Tuesday, November 4, 2014

A Circle Completed?

Finally got level. Hope it lasts. Nearly two weeks after my last posting, I finally started to feel some sort of relief. It took the full six weeks to get there. That was a long, long time. I had to put myself in the position of feeling like shit before I could appreciate how shitty it really was.

Big step this last weekend. Went to my nephew's baptism and saw mom for the first time in nearly a year. Christ, she's so weird. I knew she was fucking weirdo, but it took the distance to really see it. No one will be shocked that absolutely nothing has changed about her. Blank eyes, a ghoulish love of sharing the misfortune of others. She is full of nothing. She was at that baptism because, of course, it was AN IMPORTANT EVENT and a CHRISTLY event that she should attend, but I not once saw her address her little grandson who was baptized except to insist that she get her picture taken with my sister and baby boy.

Directly after the event, my sister & her fam had to leave because they were having a reception at their home, which mom wasn't attending. I'm sure she would've, but no one would give her a ride there and drive her the hour and a half back to her place at her convenience. Too bad, eh? My sister was aware that I wasn't terribly comfortable with mom and lingered until I told her to go on ahead, that I would wait until mom's ride got there from "just down the road." My husband and boy went on to our car, because it was windy as fuck and not super pleasant outside, and I didn't need her fawning over my guys and being stupider than usual. So, we're standing there, and her ride doesn't come and doesn't come. I'm starting to resent standing there with her because I feel like somehow her ride didn't really want to come back and get her, and I wasn't about to offer to take her anywhere. Half an hour later, her ride arrives, after she's gleefully recited all the bad news she can possibly store in her wanting warehouse of a mind. Her ride is her brother and sis-in-law. They finally fucking pull up, and mom just stands outside with me in the wind instead of making a farewell gesture to me and walking to their vehicle. So, uncle awkwardly exits the car and gives me an awkward hug, and so does auntie, and dumbass mom asks them if they want to walk over and say hi to my family who are sitting in a car at the other end of the lot ON PURPOSE. I simply said that wasn't necessary and I needed to leave, which I did.

So, because of mom, I was much later to this family event than I wanted to be, but overall, I felt pretty positive about how things played out. She couldn't manipulate me into taking her anywhere, despite what may possibly (probably) have been a planned delay in her ride getting there. My decision to stay there with her was made to benefit my sister. Mom couldn't manipulate my guys because they got the fuck out of the way. And all I saw when I listened to her bullshit, and in the way she hugged me and whispered, "I really do love you, you know," while ignoring her grandbaby, is how ridiculous it all is. She is a shadow. She's a shell who seems to spark on the giving of bad news, the almost Munchausen-by-Proxy way she loves to tell a sad story belonging to someone else. All the drama that I've caused myself over whether I was making the right decision to go NC/LC has made absolutely no difference, except that now I see more clearly. All the feelings I attributed to her were mine. She might truly be deeply happy with me if I kicked the bucket and she got to tell a bunch of people, preferably in a church situation. Oh, the time I spent giving a shit.

"Coincidentally," a former friend of mine called me out of the blue today and asked me to go to a rock concert with her. I love rock music, but I have no compunction to body-surf with the young and gorgeous at an alt-rock concert mid-week with a person I've talked to maybe once in the past two years. Thanks, but no thanks. Strange, you know? I'm being challenged to step up and just say no to people who I rarely used to say no to. In less than 24 hours, two of 'em.

Wednesday, October 1, 2014


The last few weeks have been unfun, and I've had to take a good, hard look at myself.

For awhile late last year and earlier this year, I was all shiny-happy ridiculosity, and I'm still trying to decide if that is because of the medication I was taking or because I went no-contact, or because I was just a numbnuts. I keep fighting with myself, because I've started to believe that anyone who is consistently happy must be not very bright. This ain't nice. I know it. I am jaded and empty and sometimes more bitter than other times.

Started back on an antidepressant, which isn't really giving me happy back, but it's leveling me out. Though, if I got happy back, I'd have to think I was stupid because I couldn't see how the world REALLY is. But, if happy came back, I wouldn't give a fuck if I was dumber than a box of hair, cuz I'd be happy. Fuuuuuuck.

Maybe it's a midlife crisis. Questioning every decision I've made my entire life. Trapped. Unhappy. Not fulfilling what I should be capable of. It's my fault, so blame myself. Self-forgiveness seems a little too happy-crappy for my mindset.

I started having nightmares about my mother again when I realized that I'd have to see her if I chose to attend a nephew's baptism. I went through this same shit when my niece was baptized, but that was before I went NC. I had a dream the other night that I was walking through a big beautiful house that was my own, looking for a shower that had a curtain. All these great bathrooms, but no shower curtains! When I walked through the living room, my mother was sitting in a chair along with a woman who had been her one-time co-worker (who had also been my preschool teacher). I looked at my mother and asked, "What are you doing here?" She started talking about how she had gone to the doctor and gotten a PAP smear, the look on her face saying she was going to tell me she was dying, then she said, "I got a clean bill of health and I'm doing good." I really looked at her and noticed she was wearing shorts and her legs weren't discolored like they really are and she was standing fine and she looked physically good. I said, "I'm really glad you're doing well." Then she said she had something she wanted me to watch and turned on a TV station that was talking about people cannibalizing other people. Just the gruesome-est, most horrible story, and I asked her, "Do you know those people?" or something along that line, and she looked at me like I was an idiot and she said, "No!" Like, why would I even ask. Then I began screaming at her, saying that I have told her over and over I have anxiety issues and why was she showing me this awfulness, and she looked at me with that stupid blank look she gets and said, "You never told me that." The lady that was with her was sort of supporting her, very passively, and I told them both to get the fuck out of my house and to never come back. Christ, I was so angry, and I woke up angry, and I'm still angry enough to remember the details of this dream.

She had the audacity to come into this house (which was just what I would want, except for the shower curtains) that was MINE without invitation and begin her shit. I know what this means. It means I'm letting the bitch sneak into my brain again.

Tuesday, August 26, 2014

Can't Do It Alone

I've been weaning off of antidepressants (well, TRYING) since probably January of this year and had to go on another antidepressant to get off the 1st one. It's not working. My anxiety is through the roof and I'm sick with worry over things that I can't even define. Things that I would have been able to deal with in an appropriate manner now send me into tears. I couldn't sleep for 2 days straight, nor could I eat, and I can no longer remember why it seemed so important to me to go off of antidepressants in the first place. So, I called the doctor and got an appointment and got on a therapeutic dose of the 2nd antidepressant I was taking to get off the 1st. Oh, and something to sleep at night, until that SSRI kicks in.

The thing is, I remember this feeling as EXACTLY what I felt almost every day of my life from about 3rd grade on. This used to be my normal. No wonder I was so fucked up in my teenage years. After 10 or so years of normalcy, to go back to that was unbearable for even 3 days. No wonder I wanted to never wake up every single time I went to sleep. No wonder I was so sickly thin in my youth. Fuck. There is no way I can do that again.

I've read different internet articles wherein people speak about how you're not "living authentically" when you're on an antidepressant, that the reason you're depressed is because you need more therapy to deal with other shit you've repressed, that you should WELCOME the heightened emotions because it means you're ALIVE. Well, shit all over that. I firmly believe that the people who believe these things have not reached the same emotional depths that some of us have, the depths that have made me believe that hell is actually a state of mind.

I've done therapy, I've made the hardest change I never thought I could in going NC, I have a life that's worth living. I will be damned if I'll let my fucking brain ruin it. I will not let my faulty neurons make me into a selfish, sobbing wretch, steal me from my children, bludgeon any joy I see in this world. I will not let me be over because at some point I have convinced myself I didn't need the help that these medications give me.

I am weak, but I am going to be strong again.

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

A Few More Steps

I had a terrible, fragile weekend. All the dark things crept up on me, and they were so dark and cold. I bounced back on Monday, thankfully. I haven't had an episode like that for 10 years. The hungry ghosts wanted their pound of flesh in the most intense and lonely way. A little gift from my childhood and DNA. All I can do is stamp my foot and insist the ghosts won't take me. It's excruciatingly humbling to feel their strength. I cut the ties. I cut the ties.

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Rant 101: It Starts Young

If you are a parent, and you're not respectable, why on earth should your children respect you? Because you coupled with someone and created another human being? If you are a giant piece of shit whose claim to fame is banging more dope in a 24-hour period than all your frenemies, you have no fucking right to be up in arms when your young teenager, who's seen IT ALL in their young life, clocks you in the face and tells you they'll kill you if you ever touch them again. When that kid has seen you beat up their mom/their siblings all their life; when they know what it feels like to have bruises and emotional scars for having the nerve to be in their house; when you have never given them a second of honest affection - how can you demand they love and trust you, and above all, MIND YOU.

How can a kid respect such a stupid person? A person who didn't plan to have a family, but, whoops - the babies just happened. Or, my life sucks, so let's bring a child into this situation. A person who demands you respect them because THEY MADE YOU, you wouldn't be here because of them, in this fine, lovely, warm-and-fucking-fuzzy life they've given you. When a good night in the house is the only night both of the parents are gone - maybe with their very-important-friends, but you are not allowed to have friends because YOU ARE A CHILD. I CAN HAVE THESE FRIENDS BECAUSE I MADE YOU. I can have friends who leer at you, I can have friends with obscene criminal backgrounds, I can have friends who are STUPIDLIKEME because my child/ren don't have the right to care who I surround myself/them with. You have to feed yourself (I bought the fucking food, can't you cook it?), clothe yourself (if you don't like your 3 sizes too small clothes, fuck you!) and survive without any real humanity. And to top the shit off, YOU HAVE TO LIVE WITH ME. What a revelation.

I see this theme so often, and it hits close to home. My parents didn't bang dope, but they are/were stupid, stupid people, and I feel lots of empathy for these kids who are just trying to grow up so they can get the hell out. If their parents weren't narcissists to begin with, their addictions made them so. I'm a little tired of people using their, "I'm sick. It's a sickness." It might be a sickness, and it's not a fucking excuse.

That goes for your straight narcissists, too. No excuse.

Quit making babies you can't give love to. Just quit. You can't raise them, and you don't have any right to tell them how to raise themselves if you can't even wipe your own ass without a map.

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

What to Name It?

It's been four months since NC with the mother. I haven't missed her a bit.

I've been continuing with meditation and trying to heal myself. I've been immersing in things I enjoy, especially genealogy. My latest kick is DNA genealogy, and in the spirit, I did a DNA test to try to track down some family history. I then uploaded my raw data to a website that scans it and lets you know if there are any red flags. Turns out that, genetically, anyway, I have two mutations that are known to cause hemochromatosis, an excess of iron buildup in the body. I'm waiting for the blood tests to come back to see if I am affected, and now the burden is on me to contact all my aunts & uncles to let them know they may have this genetic thing. Oh, yeah, I've got to tell my mother, too.

So, I'm sticking with a looser version of the form letter I found on the CDC website to inform family members. They're getting a letter. I greatly fear that when mother gets her letter, she will take it as an invitation to start up again. So, I'm panicky and keep putting off sending the letters.

It's a test. I made it four months and now I'm being forced to approach the gates and whistle to see if the dogs come a-runnin'. I'm arming myself with pepper spray and a fight-or-flight prep, and I don't want to have to do this. Ssshhhhhhhhit.

Friday, January 31, 2014

It's Good

Since I sent the "gift" back to mother a month and a half ago, I haven't had contact with her. She has sent Christmas and birthday cards to my little boy and not to my older son, presumably because she feels she should do her best to make the youngest see her in a favorable light. My husband has opened these cards for the little one and screened them. It is so friggin' freeing to be able to envision an NC life. I can really feel how amazing NC is. A life without being gaslighted, sabotaged, lied to, corrupted, isolated, and inappropriately controlled is sweet.

It wasn't that long ago I was defending her and in denial about her manipulations. In a biblical phrase, which appropriate for her bible-thumping ways, "For now we see through a glass darkly, but then face to face..." (1 Corinthians 13:12) She used to say how she preferred the King James version, but I couldn't speak as to her preference now that she can't shove her beliefs down my throat.

I can just BE.