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.

 

Well, How Nice

So I  had to break the news to Mama that I broke up with my boyfriend. She HATES break ups and considers even the laziest serial killer to be a perfect match for me. (What I mean by lazy serial killer, is I don’t think it would bother her if he had a few body parts hanging out of the back of his truck. Or like maybe he forgot to chop up the body.) Anyway, I digress… So I tried a new tactic and said well I would tell you what happened since you asked, but I doubt you would understand. She immediately is trying to understand now…she is so oppositional she can’t help herself.  So I tell her the story and she is silent. I say, “Well I figured you wouldn’t get it.” And Mama says (drumroll please….) ” I get it that you think he is not the one for you. But its a shame because hes so good-looking and makes good money.” That’s right, Ladies and Gents, never-you-mind how he treats me. The important things in life are looks and money.

Reminds me of a joke about a Southern Belle :

SB1: Hey I came over to show you this beautiful bracelet my Daddy gave me. He taught me how to pick out the finest diamonds.

SB2: *Rocking on the front porch and fanning herself* Well, how nice.

SB1: And look at that gorgeous new mercedes he bought me! My Daddy spoils me. he taught me how to drive that car just like a race car driver.

SB2: Well, how nice.

SB1: So what did your Daddy teach you?

SB2: My Daddy taught me good manners and especially how to say “Well, how nice.” when you really want to say “Fuck You.”

Apparently. I deserve whoever I can get no matter how they treat me as long as they are gorgeous and rich.

Well, how nice.