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.

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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.

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

 

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.

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!