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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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!