The Abyss

I have not written much because I have tried to keep my distance from Mama. Last night, she came to my house to make sure I didn’t kill myself. I never said I was…but she knows me well enough to know when I have had enough. She arrived, in full drama mode, with frantic phone calls to my brother. (Side note: I have 2 brothers and don’t speak to either. ) My brother comes in stating that he can’t hold his tongue and thinks it’s stupid that I would be so upset over work crap. Mama says she thinks I need a psych hospital because I am crying so much. Also, she is going on and on about me being on “too much medication.”  Here’s the kicker: I stopped taking a VERY low dose of an antidepressant about a month ago. 4 weeks later, here I am a crying mess over being chewed out and written up at work. Hmmmm. Something tells me that I needed that antidepressant due to all my stress. My Mom goes into her usual speech about me changing in the past 3 years. So, I go into my routine rebuttal that being married to a Narcissist for 11 years tends to do that. Especially when my Borderline Mom and asshole family decided to believe his lies about me. Then, my bipolar sister-in-law and her crazy ass Mom decide to add to the lies by accusing me of calling her step-father.  It gets even better: they all took his side, until he hasn’t paid a dime for his kids. Then, they admitted he is a jerk, but didn’t support me. The betrayal that I have felt with my entire family and friends abandoning me at the point where my life is falling apart is indescribable. To add to this pain, I found texts where my Mom and sister in law are talking about how crazy I am. My Mom had written her prose “To my beautiful, loving daughter in law: Thank you for having my grandchildren. I love you more than anything.” Etc. There were many of these texts, including a Christmas text written as I lay in my bed asleep on tranquilizers after being told I am worthless. I can’t describe this kind of pain. Unbearable. Unforgivable. Unforgettable.

Revival of the Unholy Spirit

Finally, I was forced to interact with The Motha aka Mama. I have avoided her since the Christmas drama (and no I don’t refer to the church play). It was the baby’s birthday and I have never had him a REAL party. So, I earned a few hundred dollars and was able to give him a Fro-Yo party. Mama was not consulted at all about the party, but I did send her an evite. The day before the event, she calls to ask who was coming and what did I plan on doing. I mean, with me being a complete idiot, I bet I couldn’t figure out how to let the Fro-Yo girlies show everyone how to dispense their frozen yogurt and add their own toppings. The party was fun but awkward in that Mama did not attempt to interact with  my two friends who attended. (There was a total of  8 people there and 2 kids other than mine.) Mama would never act like that with anyone else, but because they are my friends, she happens to think they are worthless and unworthy of common courtesy. The sad part is her complete lack of insight into her own behavior. But just like a crap cupcake with sprinkles, Mama keeps serving up what no one would possibly be able to digest.

Birthday-isms a la Mama:

“Malingan, Micnlanga, Michigan, you are really pretty. I am sorry I never can get y’all’s names right.” (Yep, you guessed it…my friend is black and her name is beautiful! Malana. Really? How difficult is that? I swear, Mama is the ultimate ignorant Cracker Attacker. UGH.)

“You have done a wonderful job with those kids. They just have the best manners. You can really tell when a Mother truly enjoys teaching her children good manners.” (An obvious jab at me and makes me wonder what that says about my Grandma…)

After the party Mama insists on coming to the house so that she can organize the baby’s toys from Christmas. She has bought 10-15 boxes to store things in and is on a mission to organize me away. Haha. We are sitting in the floor of the playroom, helping the baby with his trains when I askhim if he loved his train cake. The baby hugged me and kissed me and said it was the best cake ever. Mama looks at me in that moment and says “Where’s the $1000.00 you owe me for the house payment?” Ok the house is a whole other blog, but the short version is that we own the house together. After my divorce, I could no longer afford it because my entire salary per month wouldn’t cover it. I have offered to move out so they could rent it, I have offered to sell it, I have offered everything I can thin k of to help. Nothing changes the fact that until i finally get some child support, I can’t afford it.

It gets worse. In order to earn extra money, I have been working in a job that is well, demoralizing, to put it politely. I have to travel with men (usually older) and go with them to events and they give me gifts. I will allow your imagination to fill in the blanks. Mama knows about these trips. She also knows that the last one paid for the party. How sad that my own Mother thinks it’s okay to ask for money that she knows I earned in a difficult situation (We are talking all day, all night for an entire weekend you are entertaining, talking to, dining with etc someone you may or may not even like.)  So she starts screaming about how I need to be paying for myself and I am screaming back that I am doing everything I can working 2 jobs, but that my entire check wouldn’t cover the house payment. I pay all of the other bills, but can’t cover that much, yet. The baby starts crying and I end up making her leave. In true Mama style, she stands in the front yard for 45 minutes waving to the baby through the window. I texted her and told her she ruins every special day and that I had worked hard for the money to give my baby a party. Mama came back in and played innocent…”I don’t know why you think it’s my fault.”

We need a renewal. A revival. Something to jolt her out of my immediate vicinity.

 

Christmas Nightmare

I have given it a day before posting the Christmas nightmare. Mama was up at 4 AM (she never needs sleep..like a Vampire.) The day started as terribly as Christmas Eve had been: “You don’t have any caffeinated coffee”. “I don’t know how you stand it so cold in here all of the time.”, “I had to be up at 4 so I could cook breakfast. These delightful conversation starters were followed by her not telling me that my baby was awake, so I missed him seeing his gifts for the first time (Mama: “I know how you love your sleep.) I wasn’t asleep, I was in my room avoiding criticism.

The kids had an amazing time and loved their gifts. I opened mine and oh my, what a disaster. Mama has this thing she does where she buys me clothes several sizes too big to imply that I am fat. (She is larger than me.) So everything she bought was an extra large or an XXL, even though I wear a medium. Mama also bought me orange clothes, which, she knows is a color that does not flatter my shade of red hair. I didn’t flinch. I just said “Thank you” and moved on. She bought me a camera, but not the one I asked for (which was inexpensive.) Mama: “Your brother says that consumer reports rated this one the best. And you have to keep it in a case, not just throw it around like you do everything else.”

We ate our breakfast casserole and my son complained that he wouldn’t be getting a real Christmas dinner. That’s when all Hell broke loose. My ex called and asked for the kids early because he was cooking at his girlfriend’s parents’ home. I thought it was a fabulous idea because it meant my kids had a chance for a normal Christmas Dinner. (My parents did not see it that way, at all.)

I don’t know what happened, but somewhere between the “You’re a piece of crap” messages, the fact my kids had to leave me to have a normal day and the stress of a holiday, I broke down. I told my parents it was time for them to go and I packed up all their food and put it in their car. I am proud of myself for being calm while Mama screamed and yelled. The baby hid under a pillow on the sofa and my oldest laid in the floor and cried. It was beyond disturbing to see my babies in such distress. I took a tranquilizer and went to bed to sleep for 5 hours. I have not spoken to them since that incident. My Dad keeps calling me, but I really don’t want to talk. I wish I had something funny to write or something funny to say, but being the family scape goat for passive-aggressive Moms just sucks. No sugar-coating that bitter pill. I told her to take her resentment to someone else on the next holiday, I want no part of it.

Christmas Eve..And I’m Out of Eggnog!

So, Mama announces that she and My Dad are coming to MY house to spend the night for Christmas Eve. Never asks if  I have plans. My Mama is angry in a passive aggressive way and has basically been ignoring me for weeks. I would say that our relationship is almost back to rock bottom again. I think it will never recover. So, Christmas Eve she is staying at my house and the plan was Christmas lunch at her house. 

Did someone say plan? Well, after being avoided all day, my son decides to take matters into his own hands. He gets on his bike and rides to my brother and White Trash Barbie’s house. My son discovers that my parents are there and not answering his calls. At 7:45 PM, Mama shows up asking why I didn’t cook her a dinner. (Earlier in the day, she told me she was bringing food.) Mama immediately starts bitching about dinner. I pointed out numerous times that I had cooked BBQ pork, mac-n-cheese and baked beans. This is when she informs me that she wanted a real Christmas meal because she was only cooking breakfast tomorrow. I can only assume that the change in attitude is related to her visit with my brother and WTB.

Mama is at my house 10 minutes and starts throwing away EVERYTHING IN THE FREEZER! I just went to Sam’s Wholesale, but never you mind that pesky fact. Bronze Goddess is angry and needs control, so today it is the freezer. I have lots of new Mama-isms that I kept special for y’all…as a gift of sorts:

Mama : “This freezer is disgusting, I can tell you have just totally let it go for months or longer.”

SJ: Ok. Well (my ex-boyfriend) and I just cleaned it out.

Mama: (To my 2 year old son…after I told him he can’t dig in the freezer anymore) “I am going to put all the food you are looking for in the front so you don’t have to dig to feed yourself. I know you have to find your own food a lot.”

SJ: The food in the freezer is raw, I hardly think it’s appropriate to put raw meat where he will eat it.”

At this point I went to my room and got on the phone until the kids were asleep so I could do the Santa thing. I finally got all of the gifts arranged and came out to find she had put all of her gifts in front of the Santa gifts. Oh dear. The little things to a Narcissist are like the himalayas. Let HER climb that mountain. I am exhausted.

I’m Dreaming of a White *Trash* Christmas…

It’s kinda bizarre how both of my brothers married women who are…well…bitches. They are different kinds of bitches, but both seem to be fueled by drama of some sort. White Trash Barbie is what I call one of them: She has white blonde hair that she insists is natural. WTB and I were great friends for about 3 months. My Mama does this dance where she wants us to be friends, then became jealous of our friendship, then split us apart by telling her that I am a “bad influence”.  Mama’s “shove people together, then rip them apart” dance.

I should digress and explain that I have  Narcissist ex-husband (Clinically, not just a term I am tossing around casually.) Before we divorced, he told my entire small town that I was a crack-whore. What he meant by “crack” is that he thought I was addicted to my computer, that I used to avoid him. What he meant by “whore” is that I no longer wanted to have sex with him (for the last several years of our marriage). He failed to clear up these code words with the Town, so it is commonly thought that I am indeed a literal crack-whore. (The fattest crack whore in history, may I add!)

So, White Trash Barbie decided to kick me while I am down because she wants my parents’ money and attention. She and I had an email- text- war a month ago and haven’t spoken at all since she initiated a fight by telling me I am worthless. 

Fast forward to Thursday night, my son’s first Christmas pageant and also my nephew’s Christmas pageant. Ultimately it was White Trash Barbie’s White Trash Christmas Pageant. (Who knew?!)  I am standing in the hallway of the daycare with 200 parents and children seated and eating a celebratory dinner. I have my 9 month old niece in my arms, when suddenly I am tackled from behind. Surprise! WTB has run into me and thank GOD I didn’t actually fall (wearing high heels) with the baby in my grip! My neck is injured, but other than that, it’s fine.  WTB takes the opportunity to snatch the baby and start screaming at me (in front of everyone in my son’s daycare) that I am a liar and a bitch. She orders me to leave and I refuse. Eventually she goes to her car as I try to get my kids to hurry up and leave. My brother was silent and followed her outside to leave.

Mama Drama Warning: I call my Mama to ask her to keep my oldest son who is being rude because he’s embarrassed and angry. Mama lies to me and tells me she is at home. I inform her I am in her driveway. She then says she is in a restaurant, and I call her bluff. I am in tears, telling her how humiliating that was for my children and she interrupts:

Mama: Can I talk to you later I have to go?

SJ: What?! I am in the middle of a story and I need you to listen.

M: I heard it. You got in a fight because y’all can’t get along and now there won’t be Christmas.

SJ: Huh?!

M: I gotta go check on your brother. I am at his house and he is devastated by what you have done.

SJ: You suck as a Mom. (hanging up.)

Ring Ring.

SJ: Hello

Dad: I am at your house and we need to figure out how you can fix this so your Mother can have one of those Christmas cards like Becky sent out.

SJ: What card?

Dad: The one with all of the kids and grandkids together.

SJ: I gotta go because my neck hurts and I need to take a tranquilizer.

I came home to a lecture about how selfish I am and how I don’t care about people. Merry Christmas, Me.  Poor kids having to deal with all this shizzle.  

Christmas Train-ride to Hell

I decided to invite my parents to go with me and my kids on a Santa Train ride. I INVITED them to go on Saturday night. My Mom informs me that they have a “very important social event…So and So’s Winter Wonderland Wedding…to attend” but they can go Sunday. I have plans for Sunday night with my (reunited) boyfriend, so I plan on Sunday afternoon.

Sunday Morning Phone call to Mama:

SJ: Hey so I am planning on going at !:30, so we will meet at your house.

M: Oh. (Sigh.) I thjought we were going when we could see things.

SJ: What? We can’t see at 2:00?

M: Well, we can see some things, but we will miss all the lights.

SJ: I have plans tonight, but it’s kinda grey, so I think it will be fine. Besides, I planned to go LAST night.

Fast forward 4 hours:

M: It’s too bad we can’t see the lights from this train.

The baby: I see lights! They’re pretty.

1 Hour later on the train ride back from Santa’s Village:

M: Look at these lights, they are gorgeous! (It’s dark now.) Just imagine what the ride in would have looked like.

SJ: Ummm I can see the other side because we are just across a lake, in fact, the words over there are turned so we see them here.

M: I feel like I missed half the fun.

SJ: (Internal thought) I feel like I missed ALL of the fun. LOL 🙂

Upon Arrival at the Station where we find out there is a 2.5 hour wait to ride the train:

Dad: Look at all these people

M: I heard the lady say there were 200 girl scouts!

D: It’s packed.

M: I am SO glad I decided we should come when we did. This would have been miserable at night!

*GONG!!!!*  

Oh dear. I hope y’all enjoy these exchanges as much as I enjoy sharing them! I have to admit that instead of getting really irritated, I found myself thinking: Hey this is great for my blog!

Keep giggling!

❤ Jilly

 

Decorating the world with Drama

So not much going on lately because I am in the “ice zone” with my BPD narcissistic Mama. Sunday, she came over and watched my Dad put up a decoration that she removed from my house a year ago. Mama had a really odd reaction to my divorce. She came to my house every day for 3 weeks and hauled off a truckload a day of what she considered to be “crap.” Apparently, I am too lazy to get anything done. This cleaning included removing a gorgeous arbor my Dad made for me when I bought my house. I nearly cried when I saw it was gone. Not only was my marriage gone, but thanks to Mama, half my stuff was gone and everything was moved or redecorated to her specifications. I never said a word and chose to just accept that she was “cleaning up” my trashy existence. (in suburbia, mind you…) Anyway, Sunday she attempted to have Dad make my Arbor smaller. She also declared that there could be no decorations other than the ribbon she put on it. I wonder how it feels to think you have control over the universe. Probably very unsettling when you realize that you don’t.

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Turkey Talk

Things My Mama said over Thanksgiving weekend:

***Message: You’re dirty and a Terrible Mom***

Scenario: My boyfriend is on my way over and Mama stops by

“Are you going to clean up your house?”

Me: “No, I am just folding laundry. He probably knows I have to do that at some point.”

“I envy you. I don’t know how you do it.”

Me: “What? be a single Mom?”

“No, have someone over in your messy house. It’s amazing. Your brother inherited that from me. He NEVER lets anyone come over without his house being perfect.”

Summary: the show Everybody Loves Raymond is so close to being what my family is like. My brother, is always perfect; Clean house, and all.

***Message: You never know what your kids want and you’re a terrible Mom***

Scenario: Black Friday 10 PM on the day after I went to the Doctor for bronchitis and a double ear infection following the flu

“I think he (my oldest son) needs a tablet and an XBOX 360.”

Me: “he has a Wii and a netbook he doesn’t use”

“Kids need to change video games to feel good. They like that. Remember your brother? He always changed video games. It’s normal.”

Me: “Whatever, I don’t remember my brother’s video game habits. But, I guess I can get an Xbox.”

“He comes from a divorced family. An Xbox will make him happy. Walmart has one on sale at 10:oo, so go get in line. I tried to buy one cheap on Amazon, but I have had to buy your kids so many gifts in the past few days, I guess they (Amazon) wouldn’t let it go through because I have spent so much.” [HUH?!!]

Me: “Well, can’t we find one online? They always seem to have teasers and I don’t feel great so I hate to get there and they are gone.”

“Well I will pay for half, but I can’t afford those except at the Black Friday Sale”

Me: “Ummmm ok I guess I will go up there.”

I go to Walmart and they are sold out of Xboxes, so I call Mama to see if I should still buy the discounted games if I am not sure that I will be able to find a system.

Me: “Hey they are sold out so I guess I shouldn’t buy the games.”

“Well, the one that came with the one I bought is sports.”

Me: “What? What one you bought?”

“The one on Amazon. They decided to let me buy it this morning.” [OMFG!]

Me: “Mom, why am I in the Walmart at 11:30 Pm if you have one?”

“Amazon wasn’t sure it would let the purchase go through.”

Summary: OMG really?! Sick in the store being pushed around for her amusement. Priceless.

 
 

Thanksgiving Terror

Let me begin by saying I am thankful that my Mama is still alive.

Hopefully, that absolves me from what I am about to write. Today is Thanksgiving day. As of yesterday, I had no plans. I called my Mom to tell her that the kids and I are going to a Pow Wow. Authentic Native American dancing and music is on the agenda for a family-free Turkey Day! Well, Mama informs me that she has no plans. My brother and his wife are supposedly going to her family’s house. I am now obligated to invite her and my dad to my Family-Free Day. I owe her, though, so I feel like I am still getting a deal after all of the Thanksgiving dinners she has cooked for me.

Fast Forward to Thanksgiving. This morning, Mama and Dad are an hour late to pick us up. She has decided to not cook lunch today and instead called me at 6:30 last night to come over and eat “Thanksgiving Dinner”. Huh?!! Anyway, I went and ate and pretended like the Chinet wasn’t weird. Typically, my Mama creates a table out of Southern Living. She is the BEST cook ever and always uses linen napkins. Last night, we ate Thanksgiving dinner on Chinet…and not on Thanksgiving. 

So, This morning they are late. Mama shows up huffing and puffing, screamin’ and shoutin’ and telling us all how awful we are. She even made the baby cry and he is usually perfect in her eyes. She is obviously in a mood and what I can’t figure out is why I am the one to have the joy of dealing with it?

So we are in for a 2 hour drive, with the kids arguing in the back seat. My Mama wedged in between them (and I do mean wedged!) Meanwhile she is going on about how my oldest son needs to learn to behave and stop “being rowdy.” Ok, my oldest has ADHD and is not easy to deal with after an hour. However, he does not need a running commentary on how awful he is at everything. She is also saying a “What you need to do….” speech. Mama is known for these as she always has an opinion on what you need to do. I am just feeling sick that my poor son has to listen to how great she is and how awful his behavior is.

We FINALLY make it to the restaurant and we are required to wait an hour and a half to be seated. Two children running around, my Dad scwling and Mama trying to win at the casino. She is seriously sitting at a slot machine while telling the baby “I love you, but don’t get on the carpet or the police will get you.” HUH?!” Who stops in a casino and waits to hours to eat with 2 small kids in tow?! I am thankfully on my tranquilizer and manage to tune out until we are seated.

We are all surrounded by giant mounds of food when Mama decides it is time to share that my sis in law refused to come to Thanksgiving because of an argument we had. The Sister-in-Law texted me and proceeded to tell me how I suck. (she is from a part of my state that encompasses where they filmed Deliverance…I suspect that, anyway.) I stood up for myself and have thus, caused another family feud (there’s a reason they named that show FF!). So, in the retaurant, on Thanksgiving Day, My Mama decides to vent on me.  Oh my goodness! I don’t want to even think about Christmas!  

Don’t forget the Turkey!

So, I get a call from Mama while I am knee-deep in work drama. I  work in a crisis-oriented field and my Mama hasn’t figured out I don’t have time to chit-chat all day. Anyway, she calls to tell me she has left the Baby’s “Turkey paper” on the counter and has left a note for me.  The “Baby” is my 2 almost 3 year old son. Apparently, the Baby’s preschool has started giving homework and I have neglected my Turkey assignment. 

I wake up at 5 AM in the morning, get my sons ready and go to work by 7:15 AM. I work all day, pick up the kids at different daycare/afterschool programs and maybe get home by 6:15 PM. This night, I get to go to Hobby Lobby to let the baby pick out things to decorate his turkey paper. So, I get home at 7:15 after shopping for “Turkey Monkeys” and stopping st Firehouse for subs. Turkey Monkeys are what the Baby chose to decorate his decorate his turkey. For $4 I bought 8 glittery monkeys and assorted bananas for my 2 year old to stick on a poorly drawn turkey paper.

The note from Mama attached states: Please try not to forget to help the Baby decorate his Turkey. His teacher said she gave this to you several weeks ago. He was the only child in the class who didn’t decorate a pumpkin! (This was back in October, but serves as a good jolt when she needs it.)

This is a typical Mama Drama and contains all the essential elements:

1. My predictable inadequacy.

2. A reference to an undiagnosed form of  “Dumbass Daughter Dementia” that my Mama thinks prevents me from remembering anything.

3. A big, heaping helping of guilt. Homecooked by Mama’s love.

4. A dramatic gesture. (In this case, she drove to my house to leave the paper on the counter versus leaving it in his cubby at school.)

5. Some measure of her Goodness by which we may contrast my Badness.

I wonder how my children will ever survive me. The trauma of an inadequate Mama!