I moved out fairly young. My mother was schizophrenic as well as epileptic, much less her traumatic childhood, mine was no less easy. My mom and I would have passionate disputes; however, my mother also didn’t care for females much. While my father wasn’t around, which was often, I was the next most stable person in our household. My brother was just a bit older; organically I was a caretaker for us in many ways. So if you needed someone to pack your lunch, or get you up in the morning, I would be the person to do it. In so many ways, I felt like a single parent, incidentally in my own childhood home as I grew up. Needless to say, I wasn’t perfect.
I think this bothered my mother, since she was a pioneer despite her ailments. To an extent, I think it pissed my mother off that she couldn’t be more there for me, and at the same time punished me for it. I should point out that I am also an INTJ female, ennegram type one. You know who else has this rare personality, especially for a women, Hillary Clinton and people either love her or hate her. I think that perfectly sums up how folks respond to me. I joke with those few close friends who can stand me that I am ambidextrous, O neg, RH neg, dyslexic, female INTJ; I couldn’t be any more of a unicorn. This isn’t to say that I am special; in fact people would argue that I am far from it. Maybe this means I am completely demented. I don’t care. This is to point out that it’s difficult to relate to me apparently and nothing more. Given that I have Pisces on my MC, more times than not people project their feelings on me. It’s a reflection of them that they despise me. It has taken my entire life to pull all these pieces together, the solution, well, you tell me? I haven’t figured it out yet.
I am by no means perfect; should you decide you dislike me, please first be certain it’s for a valid reason I have earned, and not something within yourself. To be fair, most people are not going to analyze their feelings or thoughts on this level. I’d say in my experience they are more prone to be emotional, and therein lies the problem. I am not any of these things, at least, not until you dig deep. This is certainly not my surface response.
Alas, my mother knew all these things about me, at least intrinsically. Yet at the same time, she had her issues with females, and more specifically, a strong willed one who helped her when she despised being weak, me. Needless to say, it was a complex love/hate relationship. I grew up as strong as she was, and in a way she should have been happy to have me in that capacity. Be that as it may, mom brought drama to me whether I liked it or not. Given my temperament, I loathed it with a passion. (Sun sextile Moon) I could not escape it, so it taught me a lot about myself long before I even stepped foot into the adult world. Considering my 4th house Saturn, I think it perfectly sums up my responsibilities as a child, and better yet, my relationship with my father. Since dad wasn’t around, he returned to witness, or hears tales of this drama.
To my detriment, he easily blamed those “crazy women” and didn’t think much more of it than that. I couldn’t avoid her drama, she pushed it on me. I was backed into a corner. Despite my dad’s thoughts, I very much despise confrontation, though it was obviously inescapable. For being an INTJ, I have a peculiar quality about me that sets me apart from most you may encounter. My natal Mars conjunction Jupiter helps to perfectly sum up the fact that I am not at all passive.
Most INTJ’s do not like confrontation, I am no exception. Though If I am faced with adversity I will tackle that son of a bitch head on, and will not hesitate nor will I grow tired in doing so. I should say, I am a formidable opponent, and otherwise not shy of the shady part of life that needs sorting (Sun sextile Pluto). In fact, it was only recently I learned people know this about me. All along I thought it was a mystery, turns out that is not the case, and apparently people are immediately uncomfortable with me because of this. The irony, if you consider it all. I hate drama, but won’t hesitate to diffuse a bomb if I have to, and my level of confidence alongside any projections folks have gets me every time. For this reason, I had to move out rather young. I was lucky I didn’t get put in foster care as a child to be honest, and frankly, I was an orphan to an extent as it was. I often times stayed with my friend’s families, as we moved every few years it seemed. I adopted a new family that I would spend substantial time with, only otherwise attending to what I had to at my own home. This did nothing for my level of closeness, and as soon as I was out of there I wouldn’t look back nor was I welcome.
The problem with moving out young is having not a damn thing to your name. My mother, for whatever reason, even argued I shouldn’t take my bed with me in packing to move out. I took the damn bed, but not much else and started from scratch with shady people for roommates. It didn’t last long before they cut and run, and I struggled to make ends meet myself. For this reason, any given lemon I drove at the time had a limited shelf life. One in particular I loved dearly. A 79’ Cougar, this thing was a damn tank and proved to be life saving later. Though broke, one way to have fun back in the day was to hang out with friends and not play on cell phones. I believe we did an array of activities one night. I hung out with my future ex husband and several friends. We hung out at the bowling alley, sat around the parking lot, went to a small diner to eat. I honestly couldn’t tell you what we did. We didn’t do much of anything, but we laughed and screwed around most times.
Earlier in the day I noticed my battle ax Cougar wasn’t stopping on a dime, considering it was as old as I was, I wasn’t expecting it to be perfect. It was noticeably a problem this evening. So after a night of shenanigans with friends I decided I would stop by my parent’s house for the night. They weren’t too far from where I was in town and I thought it would be safer to sleep on their couch until I could sort out my break situation. Through the night with friends, I had to pump the break to get the car to stop. I’d slow down well in advance, and slowly pump it to a stop. It became incredibly worse throughout as the evening wore on.
I had dropped off my then boyfriend and made my way to their place. At the time, my parents obviously lived in the same city and state, which hasn’t always been the case. They were still married at the time, though only barely so, and lived in a townhouse at the end of a cul de sac where my older brother also stayed. I can’t count the number of years my brother has lived with both, or one of my parents to be honest with you. Nor could I tell you the number of cars my parents have given him, much less home, or other such novelties. I suppose his personality is more likable than mine, though ironically he is also an INTJ. To be fair, and to his defense, I am probably to most extroverted introvert there is, my own bit of torture (mercury quincunx ascendant). I would say I am not shy, but I don’t enjoy small talk, keep it real.
Certainly not all INTJs are cut from the same cloth. He has a social anxiety disorder. Meanwhile, my father always complained that my grandfather favored my aunt; ironically in the same way my dad does for my brother. It’s unclear if I am that unlikeable, or if my dad is just over compensating. Regardless, the whole posse was in place for what was about to occur.
As I headed to their town home, I began to pump my brake as I had been throughout the evening. Their townhouse was literally at the very end of the cul de sac, down a slight hill. Traditionally, I would pull up all the way toward the end of the parking lot surrounded by town homes. If all the parking spots were taken, I would put my car in reverse and park across the street. In this case, I had planned to do just that. I looked at my speed, I was doing a crawling 15 mph and wasn’t on the accelerator. As I began to ease on the break I noticed the car wasn’t slowing however. I began to pump the brake as I had been earlier in the evening, the car wasn’t responding at this particular moment as it normally had. Though the drive wasn’t long I had every inclination to respond appropriately. I shifted the car in reverse, the car didn’t respond. I put on the emergency break, the car didn’t respond. I made a hard right in an effort to pull the car into the grass, the car didn’t respond. The car didn’t respond to my hard right in part because just in that moment I hit the curb that was just several feet from the neighboring town home to my parents.
Hoping the curb would stop my car, it did not. In fact, it caused my extraordinarily heavy vehicle to go slightly airborne, and with that I hunkered down as I headed into the townhouse. Before I knew it, I was half way deep into my parent’s neighbor’s home. As if something you would see in National Lampoons, steam came out of the hood of my car, as bricks all around me fell slowly one by one on and around my car. The car covered in dust, as I sit there and stare at a wall where a family portrait fell to the ground. My first thought, I’m going to jail. My next thought, for how long, is anyone hurt? Just then, a man who could easily pass for a 70s porn star came bolting toward my from inside with his curly hair asking if I was ok? On the heels of his inquiry, his wife, equally mane bushy in her nightgown, yelling “You could have killed my children!” I felt 2 inches tall.
The couple’s children peeked at me from atop the steps, they had literally just gone up, as the mother and wife who lived next to my parents reprimanded me. All the while, neighbors circling the homes all came out to see what was the matter, including my parents. I looked over to my dad hoping he would come over and help me sort this out. As I sat, there, my dad shook his head as if to be disappointed, as I watched my mother, father and brother walk away closing the door. Somewhere in this chaos, I ran into my parent’s home to call my boyfriend. From there, he called all our friends who had hung out with us that evening. On the heels of the police and paramedic arriving, so did my friends, with their cameras in tow, all taking pictures as the police conducted field sobriety tests on m e. Odd indeed, I have this tendency to attract some very eclectic people (venus sextile Uranus, 2)
I apologized profusely to the women of the house, as the tow truck removed my car. I had a secondary fear that my car was completely destroyed, and from there, how would I go to work and make a living? To my surprise, the only damage to my car, besides my breaks, was that the hood ornament had broken off. To be fair, with the age of the car, I was surprised that this was intact before the accident. Thankfully, no one was injured, I didn’t go to jail, and the complex later put up guard rails to avoid this incident from occurring again. To be fair, when my parents first moved in, my exact thought was, I hope it’s not that* townhouse, it seems at risk for a car driving through it. That’s Neptune sextile Pluto for ya. It turns out, I was leaking brake fluid, and that was the culprit. This, in my family is what we refer to as the “T factor” (Tracy factor), you may know this as something akin to Murphy’s Law.