Feeling Unlovable

My dear, sweet, late mother would always say, how unlovable I am. image5 It was an awful thing to tell a child.  I grew up thinking this was true, and that’s why men cheated, lied and eventually left.

After years of therapy I finally decided to switch tapes.  You are lovable Susannah, they were just the wrong men.  Rejection, after all, is God’s protection.  Alright, that last one is a bit flimsy, but threw it in anyway.

Words, as wonderful as they are, can wound…filet you right down the middle like a Dover sole.  Parents, like mine were in such pain, they were oblivious to the harm they did to others.  My dad drank and checked out every night after 5.  He’d sit in his black leather BarcaLounger slugging Schlitz till his pupils took flight.

My mother would taunt him with insults as he got drunker and drunker making him flip off his hearing aid so she’d be like TV without sound.  He’d whisper to me, “Shrimp (my nickname) I’m off the air.” (for the record, at nine I was 5’8)

She would start drinking while she cooked, quite often burning her roast or lasagna she’d forget was in the oven.  Suddenly the house smelled like a barbecue pit, or Sicily, depending on the menu.

They weren’t happy drunks which was part of the problem.  All their anger and unhappiness came out the minute the ice hit the glass.  My dad, after supper, would switch to Seagrams and soda on the rocks, while my mother swigged wine my grandfather made in the basement.  Nothing like having your own still that’s walking distance.

But that’s when the verbal guns came out.

“Can’t you do anything right Susannah?  How hard is it to sweep a floor?”

“Did you pick up your room like I told you to?  No wonder you have no friends.”

“Where did I get you from anyway?  If I didn’t have all these veins I’d think you were adopted.”

“You’re such an unlovable kid.”

See, this is why I don’t need a tattoo.  Look at the ones I have.

When my last long-term lover stepped out with one of his employees right in front of me, I blamed myself.  We were in Florida where she lived and went everywhere with us, like gum on my shoe.  You had to be brain dead not to know what was going on, a fact he still denies.  I heard my mother’s voice…see, what did I tell ya?  You’re just plain unlovable.

One thing I knew about myself was I was thoughtful and generous, much more than my parents or boyfriend.  Even if I was unlovable, I was a supremely nice girl.

One night me and my ex were walking to his house when I stopped at a store to get berries for his morning cereal.  He screamed causing people to actually turn around, “I am so fucking sick of you being so FUCKING nice.”

I went to his place, packed my things murmuring to my mother in the netherworld…that’s the last time anyone ever abuses me again, cause you know what Mom, I am lovable and he’s just one more creep you made me think I wasn’t worthy of.

I started to like myself after that.



About Susannah Bianchi

I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves. My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Amazon.com. Thanks.
This entry was posted in Family, food, Home, humor, Love, men, parents, Women and men, words and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

38 Responses to Feeling Unlovable

  1. micklively says:

    Oh Susannah, how did you ever emerge with your sanity intact? This is the stuff of nightmares; a veritable smorgasbord for a psychiatrist. It ticks every parenting “how not to” box and then some. You must be made of adamant.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Hens House says:

    Some parents can be worst than your biggest enemy, I find parents hurtful comments scar the deepest. Thankfully, you found a happy ending knowing that you are so worth much more. X


    • 200.000 dollars later. I’ve had so many shrinks I could have a dozen baseball teams. Unworthiness’ draws abuse. I really learned that. You’re like fly paper. The creeps don’t gather as much when your self-esteem is showing. And the other tip, don’t give them your number. 🙂


  3. skinnyuz2b says:

    I had a brief one and one half year marriage before I met my Pookie. When he admitted he was cheating I found out it was all my fault. I wasn’t any fun because I didn’t do heavy (or medium) drugs. And I was too nice!
    Luckily, I came to my senses, left the creep, and returned to the opposite coast of the US. You know what, Susannah? Jerks don’t deserve girls who are nice or thoughtful.


    • I’m always fascinated how bitchy women do better than nice ones. Men like to be abused. I guess it’s some type of turn-on. I refuse to behave that way and well, I guess that makes me a bit of a bore. So be it.

      Luckily I don’t care anymore. Having companionship unless he has four-legs, doesn’t interest me too much. Have a lovely weekend Skinny…you and your Pookie-pie.

      Liked by 1 person

  4. Elle Knowles says:

    First off – thank God you realized you are lovable and how nice is too nice? Guess berries is the deal breaker and I just added fruit to H’s cereal! Uh-oh…
    Loved the phrase “I’m off the air”.
    My Dad drank Schlitz – haven’t heard that one in a coons age – not in excess, though my mother thought so…
    See…I’m not the only one who thinks you need to write an autobiography! Loved this piece.
    Hope your day is good! ~Elle


    • It used to infuriate my mother when she realized she couldn’t be heard. That’s when she’d start throwing things. Yes, berries were the deal breaker alright. That was really the beginning of the end on the heels of the little Floridian tart who I so wanted to drown.

      Memories. Like pulling splinters out of your palm.

      Liked by 1 person

  5. Beverly Giangiacomo says:

    What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger…my mantra for quite a while now…you are a survivor and fear not about being loved. Your fans, even not knowing you personally ,love you and what you share with us via your writings. When you ever decide to do the “night in New York” with Susannah thing you will be amazed at how many people, “fans”, show up to have a drink with you at that bar you go to regularly…why can’t I remember the name this AM??
    Have a great day!

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Lynn says:

    I am not a shrink but I would guess the kindness you shower on others is directly linked to the words spoken to you as a child. You are worthy Susannah, to each & every person or animal who has been touched by your kindness & your love.


    • I’ve heard it said, those kicked around as kids, either become worse than their abusers or the kindest people in the world. I’m in the latter group, no question. My mother was mean for sport and I’ve met so many others like her. I draw them to me. I do. I think for a long time I was trying to replicate our relationship so I’d finally glean her approval. There was always some mean woman in my life I’d be jumping through hoops for. I’m happy to say, the realization of that has set me free.

      Thanks for writing, and have a nice holiday.

      Love is all there is, to quote Lennon and McCartney.


  7. This is a beautifully written piece. The picture you paint with the words is creative. “filet you right down the middle like a Dover sole” says it all. It allows us to feel your pain (or former pain). I haven’t seen any posts about your parents upbringing. Did they grow up in abusive situations and carry on the tradition?

    Liked by 1 person

    • Good question…let’s see. My father sadly, inherited his father’s alcoholism which eventually killed him. His parents were not abusive at all, it was just the illness itself. And he wasn’t mean to me, just unavailable.

      Now my mother was a whole other kettle of fish. The youngest of three daughters and favored by all. She was extremely beautiful used to the attention that she’d demand if it wasn’t forthcoming. Her mother was pretty mean, so I don’t know if that affected her or not. I personally think she was just so unhappy married to my dad at 17 then without him for a couple years during World War II more or less growing up in his absence forced to stay married. I mean, you didn’t get divorced back then, you made do. There’s an expression…hurt people hurt people, and that certainly applied to her.


  8. Good for you. Btw, you are loveable…I know because I have found myself in the past wishing we lived closer and could meet. Not that I may be anything to brag about, but I don’t find myself having nearly as much to do with women who have low self-esteem as I did before the stroke.
    You are wonderful.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Low self-esteem runs rampant. Yesterday I brought someone a modest gift and she wouldn’t take it, her discomfort descending like a fog. I knew right away it was all because she doesn’t think she deserves it. I was once like that.

      Liked by 1 person

  9. Susannah, you deserved to like yourself long before that. But…I’m glad you do now. :O)

    Liked by 1 person

  10. Patricia says:

    Yay you! You not only survived you triumphed. Not easy to put the past where it belongs and live in the present, but you have done it.


  11. MIke says:

    Susannah we have never met but I love you, I even was inspired by you to write a book. It’s not very big, not real long, but you were my muse.
    Ever since 1986 I have read one book after another on sales, marketing with a lot of self-esteem building in the mix. My oldest sister said she had a box of over 300 self-help books. My dad died when I was 4, oldest sister 17, my mom had a nervous breakdown and turned to booze, she met my step-dad when I was 9, she quit drinking a short while later. Step-dad had a tough time with me and I with him, I miss him though. Mom was a saint.

    I would love for you to listen to this person “Guy Finley”, he lays out the human condition pretty well. http://www.guyfinleynow.org/public/2105.cfm

    Oh and of my four sisters, two swear by Zoloft. 🙂


  12. Been there done that but unfortunately I was the one telling myself I wasn’t worthy. All I can say is thank goodness you recognized your worth. Thank goodness you share it with the world every day through your kindness, love and badassary; and thank goodness you recognize that same pain in other people and use your worth to help them through their pain. Not everyone does.


    • It’s so hard not to take the twisted behavior of others personally…a honed skill if you will. Took me a long time and I still slip. Have a couple of things going on right now that have me by the short hair.

      Like a shrink I went to years ago said to me, Susannah, just stay in your own lane eyes forward. She was a little nutty herself but her point was well taken 🙂


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