Isn't very difficult to see whyYou are the way you areDoesn't take a genius to realizeThat sometimes life is hard
It's gonna take timeBut you'll just have to waitYou're gonna be fineBut in the meantime
Come over here, ladyLet me wipe your tears awayCome a little nearer, baby'Cause you'll heal overHeal over, heal over someday
And I don't wanna hear you tell yourselfThat these feelings are in the pastYou know it doesn't mean they're off the shelfBecause pain is built to last
Everybody sails aloneOh, but we can travel side by sideEven if you failYou know that no one really minds
Come over here, ladyLet me wipe your tears awayCome a little nearer, baby'Cause you'll heal overHeal over, heal over someday
Then don't hold on but don't let goI know it's so hardYou've got to try to trust yourselfI know it's so hard, so hard, yeah
Come over here, ladyLet me wipe your tears awayCome a little nearer, baby, yeah'Cause you'll heal overHeal over, heal over someday
Yeah you're gonna heal over
- KT Tunstall
Friday, July 5, 2013
Friday, May 10, 2013
Gah! Friggin' Numbnuts.
My bullshit meter is broken. It's been abused. I know ya'll won't know the person to whom I address this, but here goes:
Hey, you. Yeah, asshat, you. I know you thought I was stupid, and I know you know better now. I know pills aren't your only habit. I know you aren't running errands out of the kindness of your heart. I know you're not telling anyone the whole truth. I've got your number, dick. I want you to know that every time I hear your goddamn name, your number comes up and it flashes red. Every dog has its day and yours is coming on. Don't underestimate your karmic load, and don't overestimate your own intelligence. Boo-yah, dawg. Now, fuck off, preferably in another state.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
A Year of...What?
It's been almost a year since I started this blog. Got to thinking about it because Mother's Day is rolling around and that's when I started looking for means of support to get through the dysfunction last year.
I can only forgive NM if I don't have to see her. That's my stance now. If I don't have to see her and talk to her and put up with her bullshit, I can at least pretend to let go of the fact that I'll never get closure from her under any circumstances. I can at least not send her vicious thoughts from inside my head on a daily basis.
Every time I've seen or talked to her in the last year (which I can easily count on both hands), it's been exactly like ripping off a bandage stuck to an old, crusty wound, and making it bleed again, and then pouring rubbing alcohol on it.
Some months ago, I started telling the abbreviated story of my life. Feels like it's time for more to be added.
I got laid off from my job during the time my parents were separating for the final time. I didn't make much money, but it was the first full-time job I'd ever had, and I was doing something I liked to do, although the job was a den of hate and mismanagement. I took advantage of a misplaced worker's program our state offered, and three months later I started college full-time.
During this first semester, I felt so much better about school than I ever had as a teenager. I was learning shit. I landed a job as a part-timer at a law office and felt like I was heading in the right direction. I never had to share any of my personal problems with the people at the place I worked at. I didn't know them and they didn't know me and I discovered I was great with starting with a blank slate.
Several months later, Mom and Dad's divorce became final within the same month my sister's apartment house burned down, Dad had a significant truck accident, and Mom had her major stroke that led to open heart surgery. This was the last week of my first semester of college.
During the time Mom was in the hospital, which was most of that summer, I only went to visit her a few times. I know this earned the ire of certain family members who couldn't possibly understand the family dynamic. I was working two part-time jobs and going to college full-time and trying to figure out what was going on with my little boy.
Mother was released from the hospital and slowly recovered, and Dad continued to try to manipulate my favor as the best parent of the two. They both phone-bombed me, usually within a couple of minutes of each other. It was fucking eerie. I hated talking to them but felt guilty about not answering, so I always gave into my guilt.
Time goes on, and I graduate from college a couple of years down the road - a modest AAS degree, but a milestone nonetheless. During this time, the father of my oldest son was recovering from his meth addiction in a controlled living situation and I kept bending over backward to get him to come see his son on his weekend furloughs, which seldom happened. He completed the drug program and got clean, then knocked up his 19 year old girlfriend. Then he moved a couple of states away, presumably to get away from the same drug culture and friends who helped him get into the drug culture before, and he was an ass to his girlfriend who moved back to the state with their kid. God, I was pissed. This was the 3rd child he had created (one before me, one after me) with a girlfriend that he fucked off after making a kid, and then irresponsibly put his needs before any of his kids.
Then he died. He was in a motorcycle accident that rendered him brain-dead, and, thankfully, his family decided to donate his usable organs. That was, bar none, the most noble thing that had come from his life. But he died happy, doing what he wanted to do. I had to tell my 15 year old his dad was dead and watch the ex's family put him on a pedestal. I had done my best over the years to stay in close contact with his family so my boy would know them. After he passed, I couldn't go visit without seeing altars to the ex and conversations about what a wonderful man he was, a HERO. I get it. They loved him. They didn't see the consequences of his actions on his kids. Still makes me want to bring him back to life and fucking smack him. And hug him. I didn't hate him, except for when he hurt my son's feelings. I just didn't understand him much at all.
At the time he died, I was married to my husband and had my little boy. My husband never really bonded with my oldest son because he never understood him, either. He loved him but couldn't relate to him on any level. It's been a long few years. I helped my dad through his final stage of living as much as he would allow it while trying to keep my protective boundaries in place. My mother had it in her head that she had to come see him and bug him, I think to make herself feel better about having affairs while married to him. She became a martyr to her cause, refusing to remember the hell he put us all through.
When I told her not to go see him, she did anyway, behind my back, and then pretended she was his current wife when she snuck into the nursing home and held his hand, then requested to talk to the nurse. They caught on and called me. I wanted to KILL her. She apologized that I was upset. So, non-apology. Dad was pretty close to gone then and I think he thought she was me since he told a nurse his daughter had just been to visit him. He still HATED her and talked shit about her to me every chance he got. But then he talked shit about me to to anyone who would listen, so whatever. All I can think is she wanted what she wanted, consequences be damned, like this was some fucking Lifetime movie where everyone kisses and makes up and she feels better about being a whore instead of being a strong woman. If he had freaked out on her, she would have come bawling to me and he would have come bitching to me, and who would have had to clean up their goddamned mess? Yeah.
As it was, she went bawling to my father's sister, the only family member I am fond of, because I yelled at her. I knew she would do it, too. I found out about that some months later while talking to this aunt. I'm sure mother thought this would get her some sympathy and have dad's family down on me for yelling at her poor, fragile self. Fucking bitch. Like this time wasn't difficult enough. She got her divorce, she got the fuck away from him, and I was left doing all the dirty work (that she wouldn't have been strong enough to handle anyway, so it was coming to this). Her getting away is not what I begrudge her. I was the one he hated for three years for having to put him in assisted living and take him to doctor's appointments and take his truck away from him. She wanted to be his warm-fuzzy there at the end after not being there for the worst of it, after all the shit both of them had put us through over the years.
Yep. Don't want to see her any more. Will I? Yes, if only to keep my relationship with my sister, whose husband thinks we are "ridiculous" and should just "let it go" as regards our feelings with Mom. I know he doesn't understand. But we weren't all brought up in loving, enlightened families, now were we?
I got laid off from my job during the time my parents were separating for the final time. I didn't make much money, but it was the first full-time job I'd ever had, and I was doing something I liked to do, although the job was a den of hate and mismanagement. I took advantage of a misplaced worker's program our state offered, and three months later I started college full-time.
During this first semester, I felt so much better about school than I ever had as a teenager. I was learning shit. I landed a job as a part-timer at a law office and felt like I was heading in the right direction. I never had to share any of my personal problems with the people at the place I worked at. I didn't know them and they didn't know me and I discovered I was great with starting with a blank slate.
Several months later, Mom and Dad's divorce became final within the same month my sister's apartment house burned down, Dad had a significant truck accident, and Mom had her major stroke that led to open heart surgery. This was the last week of my first semester of college.
During the time Mom was in the hospital, which was most of that summer, I only went to visit her a few times. I know this earned the ire of certain family members who couldn't possibly understand the family dynamic. I was working two part-time jobs and going to college full-time and trying to figure out what was going on with my little boy.
Mother was released from the hospital and slowly recovered, and Dad continued to try to manipulate my favor as the best parent of the two. They both phone-bombed me, usually within a couple of minutes of each other. It was fucking eerie. I hated talking to them but felt guilty about not answering, so I always gave into my guilt.
Time goes on, and I graduate from college a couple of years down the road - a modest AAS degree, but a milestone nonetheless. During this time, the father of my oldest son was recovering from his meth addiction in a controlled living situation and I kept bending over backward to get him to come see his son on his weekend furloughs, which seldom happened. He completed the drug program and got clean, then knocked up his 19 year old girlfriend. Then he moved a couple of states away, presumably to get away from the same drug culture and friends who helped him get into the drug culture before, and he was an ass to his girlfriend who moved back to the state with their kid. God, I was pissed. This was the 3rd child he had created (one before me, one after me) with a girlfriend that he fucked off after making a kid, and then irresponsibly put his needs before any of his kids.
Then he died. He was in a motorcycle accident that rendered him brain-dead, and, thankfully, his family decided to donate his usable organs. That was, bar none, the most noble thing that had come from his life. But he died happy, doing what he wanted to do. I had to tell my 15 year old his dad was dead and watch the ex's family put him on a pedestal. I had done my best over the years to stay in close contact with his family so my boy would know them. After he passed, I couldn't go visit without seeing altars to the ex and conversations about what a wonderful man he was, a HERO. I get it. They loved him. They didn't see the consequences of his actions on his kids. Still makes me want to bring him back to life and fucking smack him. And hug him. I didn't hate him, except for when he hurt my son's feelings. I just didn't understand him much at all.
At the time he died, I was married to my husband and had my little boy. My husband never really bonded with my oldest son because he never understood him, either. He loved him but couldn't relate to him on any level. It's been a long few years. I helped my dad through his final stage of living as much as he would allow it while trying to keep my protective boundaries in place. My mother had it in her head that she had to come see him and bug him, I think to make herself feel better about having affairs while married to him. She became a martyr to her cause, refusing to remember the hell he put us all through.
When I told her not to go see him, she did anyway, behind my back, and then pretended she was his current wife when she snuck into the nursing home and held his hand, then requested to talk to the nurse. They caught on and called me. I wanted to KILL her. She apologized that I was upset. So, non-apology. Dad was pretty close to gone then and I think he thought she was me since he told a nurse his daughter had just been to visit him. He still HATED her and talked shit about her to me every chance he got. But then he talked shit about me to to anyone who would listen, so whatever. All I can think is she wanted what she wanted, consequences be damned, like this was some fucking Lifetime movie where everyone kisses and makes up and she feels better about being a whore instead of being a strong woman. If he had freaked out on her, she would have come bawling to me and he would have come bitching to me, and who would have had to clean up their goddamned mess? Yeah.
As it was, she went bawling to my father's sister, the only family member I am fond of, because I yelled at her. I knew she would do it, too. I found out about that some months later while talking to this aunt. I'm sure mother thought this would get her some sympathy and have dad's family down on me for yelling at her poor, fragile self. Fucking bitch. Like this time wasn't difficult enough. She got her divorce, she got the fuck away from him, and I was left doing all the dirty work (that she wouldn't have been strong enough to handle anyway, so it was coming to this). Her getting away is not what I begrudge her. I was the one he hated for three years for having to put him in assisted living and take him to doctor's appointments and take his truck away from him. She wanted to be his warm-fuzzy there at the end after not being there for the worst of it, after all the shit both of them had put us through over the years.
Yep. Don't want to see her any more. Will I? Yes, if only to keep my relationship with my sister, whose husband thinks we are "ridiculous" and should just "let it go" as regards our feelings with Mom. I know he doesn't understand. But we weren't all brought up in loving, enlightened families, now were we?
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
With Friends Like These...
Hmm. Just got a text message from someone who was a close friend of mine quite a few years ago. She wanted my husband's cell number because she has a question for him.
It's true she was friends with the hubby before I ever knew her. But they haven't been close friends longer than I haven't been close to her.
There are no trust issues for me regarding my husband, so I told him she was asking for his number and asked him if he wanted me to give it to her. He made a snorty noise and sighed, then said he could imagine what she wants.
See, a good pal of hubby's recently (like in the last couple of weeks) just broke up with his girlfriend of more than five years. Part of why I am not close to this friend anymore is that she had expressed a desire to interfere with hubby's friend's relationship, and I liked and respected his girlfriend at that point more than I liked and respected my former friend. Hubby figures this woman heard about the breaking-up and wants to step in and "comfort" his friend.
Niiice. And I can't imagine texting a friend, close or former, and just asking for her husband's phone number. This kind of hot mess used to be my best pal. But, I hadn't got the memo on narcissism then, either.
It's true she was friends with the hubby before I ever knew her. But they haven't been close friends longer than I haven't been close to her.
There are no trust issues for me regarding my husband, so I told him she was asking for his number and asked him if he wanted me to give it to her. He made a snorty noise and sighed, then said he could imagine what she wants.
See, a good pal of hubby's recently (like in the last couple of weeks) just broke up with his girlfriend of more than five years. Part of why I am not close to this friend anymore is that she had expressed a desire to interfere with hubby's friend's relationship, and I liked and respected his girlfriend at that point more than I liked and respected my former friend. Hubby figures this woman heard about the breaking-up and wants to step in and "comfort" his friend.
Niiice. And I can't imagine texting a friend, close or former, and just asking for her husband's phone number. This kind of hot mess used to be my best pal. But, I hadn't got the memo on narcissism then, either.
Sunday, February 17, 2013
When My Weakness is Protecting my Strength
As so many bloggers have posted before about how the death of a family member means the N's expect you to draw together, no matter what, I do not consider my case to be anything special. One of NM's brothers passed away this week, and I got the first call from Nmom since...hmmm. It's been awhile.
I didn't answer her call since it was in the middle of the workday and my phone was in a drawer and I didn't hear it. When work was over, I checked the phone to see a text from my sis who asked if NM had called me. Frankly, until I double-checked all my little phone icons, I didn't know she had. So I sucked it up and listened to her message, the first time in about 9 months I have. She told me her brother had passed away and rambled a little about other things that were unclear, then she threw in that she was letting me know in case I was "interested." Also, she left some sort of snark about gee whiz, sorry I didn't get you guys valentines, I haven't been out of the house in a while. The message was left the day before valentine's day, and frankly, I'm a little beyond waiting for valentines in the mail.
Her brother is someone I've seen fewer than 10 times in my life. I didn't hate him, but I didn't love him, because I didn't know him. He and his wife got the hell out of Dodge to get away from his evil mother. This is the only thing I know about him, and I do like that he did that.
After I listened to NM's message, I immediately dialed her number, but she didn't answer. She was probably with other family members, and I left a very brief message that I was truly sorry about her brother and I hoped she was doing okay. I said I'd call her back, but I didn't. I popped a note in the mail instead.
The note didn't hit any of the heavy shit that's been sitting on my chest. I know she's suffering, and grinding my heel in her wounds isn't something I wanted to do. The letter was brief and honest and expressed how sorry I was for her loss and for my uncle's wife's loss. I also wrote that I was writing because it was the healthiest way for me to communicate right now, but I left it at that.
So she tries to call me today. Even though I told her I only felt comfortable communicating in writing right now. I knew her ring the minute the home phone started bleating. It's no surprise that she only wants what she wants and that she blasted past a boundary I tried to be honest about. Kinda drove it home, though, that everything I've known to be true is right.
I know from messages from my sister the family is not doing a memorial service right now. I know NM wanted me to drive several hours and bring my kids so she could show them off like zoo animals in front of her siblings, none of whom I know very well. I don't think any of them could give a fig less if I showed up or not. But I know if I'd talked to her, she would've whined and needled and made it apparent that I was taking a chunk out of her soul by not doing what she wants me to do. I know by not coming up today, there will probably be a big show sometime this afternoon wherein she breaks into tears and makes it all about her that I am not there to support her in her time of need.
I really hate her right now. I feel downright nauseous and dirty, and I didn't even talk to her. Mindfuck, indeed.
It's been a long couple of months since I posted last. I'm a real delayed reaction sort of person, and I'm trying to adjust to my big kid's new living situation and stupid hormonal shit that makes me want to rip my ovaries out and stomp on them. Hot flashes, night sweats, pms that lasts two weeks, nightmares that peel wallpaper off the walls, the whole nine yards. Perimenopause can kiss my ever-broadening ass. I must have been a man in most of my past lives, because my tolerance for this nonsense is veddy, veddy low.
I didn't answer her call since it was in the middle of the workday and my phone was in a drawer and I didn't hear it. When work was over, I checked the phone to see a text from my sis who asked if NM had called me. Frankly, until I double-checked all my little phone icons, I didn't know she had. So I sucked it up and listened to her message, the first time in about 9 months I have. She told me her brother had passed away and rambled a little about other things that were unclear, then she threw in that she was letting me know in case I was "interested." Also, she left some sort of snark about gee whiz, sorry I didn't get you guys valentines, I haven't been out of the house in a while. The message was left the day before valentine's day, and frankly, I'm a little beyond waiting for valentines in the mail.
Her brother is someone I've seen fewer than 10 times in my life. I didn't hate him, but I didn't love him, because I didn't know him. He and his wife got the hell out of Dodge to get away from his evil mother. This is the only thing I know about him, and I do like that he did that.
After I listened to NM's message, I immediately dialed her number, but she didn't answer. She was probably with other family members, and I left a very brief message that I was truly sorry about her brother and I hoped she was doing okay. I said I'd call her back, but I didn't. I popped a note in the mail instead.
The note didn't hit any of the heavy shit that's been sitting on my chest. I know she's suffering, and grinding my heel in her wounds isn't something I wanted to do. The letter was brief and honest and expressed how sorry I was for her loss and for my uncle's wife's loss. I also wrote that I was writing because it was the healthiest way for me to communicate right now, but I left it at that.
So she tries to call me today. Even though I told her I only felt comfortable communicating in writing right now. I knew her ring the minute the home phone started bleating. It's no surprise that she only wants what she wants and that she blasted past a boundary I tried to be honest about. Kinda drove it home, though, that everything I've known to be true is right.
I know from messages from my sister the family is not doing a memorial service right now. I know NM wanted me to drive several hours and bring my kids so she could show them off like zoo animals in front of her siblings, none of whom I know very well. I don't think any of them could give a fig less if I showed up or not. But I know if I'd talked to her, she would've whined and needled and made it apparent that I was taking a chunk out of her soul by not doing what she wants me to do. I know by not coming up today, there will probably be a big show sometime this afternoon wherein she breaks into tears and makes it all about her that I am not there to support her in her time of need.
I really hate her right now. I feel downright nauseous and dirty, and I didn't even talk to her. Mindfuck, indeed.
It's been a long couple of months since I posted last. I'm a real delayed reaction sort of person, and I'm trying to adjust to my big kid's new living situation and stupid hormonal shit that makes me want to rip my ovaries out and stomp on them. Hot flashes, night sweats, pms that lasts two weeks, nightmares that peel wallpaper off the walls, the whole nine yards. Perimenopause can kiss my ever-broadening ass. I must have been a man in most of my past lives, because my tolerance for this nonsense is veddy, veddy low.
Monday, December 24, 2012
Gratitude
I've gotten started on working alot of shit out with this blog. I am so grateful that this opportunity exists for everyone who, like me, have certain crosses to bear. I have more peace right now than I've had in 37 years. It's cathartic. I'm very grateful to this community for its existence. There's alot to be said for knowing you're not in it alone.
I'm not a religious person, but please accept my wish to you for a peaceful holiday season with fewer fucktards to trample the snot out of a genuine existence.
Thanks, ya'll.
I'm not a religious person, but please accept my wish to you for a peaceful holiday season with fewer fucktards to trample the snot out of a genuine existence.
Thanks, ya'll.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Creaking Onward
Saw the mother at sis's place on Friday. She greeted me with a hug and desperately hissed in my ear, "I love you." It sounds warm and fuzzy on paper, but it seemed very odd - in timing and something else I'm not putting my finger on. When she had the real opportunity to speak to me later in the afternoon, which I somewhat dreaded, though we were surrounded by other people, the only thing she wanted to talk about is how she had to turn the Kirby vacuum salesman in to the BBB. Not, how's my little boy doing in school, or how's my big boy doing because he's moving to his own place next week. Not about real things, important things. Her big important moment in the sun where I really wanted her to prove to me I'm wrong in all my feelings about her, and she just presented this strange nugget. It's about her, and it's negative. Lovely.
Otherwise, not a bad day.
I've been frantic the last couple weeks trying to get the oldest ready to move into his place. He can't understand my push to get things done ahead of time as much as possible, so I'm trying to take it as easy as I mentally can, but I'm really fucking nervous and overwhelmed. I keep being worried something will fall through and ruin his chance to live at this place, but so far so good. He's his only enemy that I'm aware of, in that he just needs to remember the things he needs to do to be happy and healthy. This place should be great - his own apartment with everything he physically needs, plus staff support. I'm mad at myself for being beside myself with nerves. One of the staff told me this is not unlike what all parents go through when a kid leaves the nest, so maybe this is normal??
Oh, yeah, and the guy that has been telling me since September he's going to get my fucking house painted "this weekend" can suck my big toe. You can't paint now that it's cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey. Dick. And I'm the numbnuts who took this long to tell you to get bent. So, yay me.
The holiday tree is up and the cats are chewing ornaments off the tree and the hubs is watching some rich fuckers play golf in Dubai in HD. The kids are upstairs farting around. And I'm really fighting myself not to go hit the vodka, but I know I've got lots of other shit to do that's more important. I just need to keep thinking about that.
Otherwise, not a bad day.
I've been frantic the last couple weeks trying to get the oldest ready to move into his place. He can't understand my push to get things done ahead of time as much as possible, so I'm trying to take it as easy as I mentally can, but I'm really fucking nervous and overwhelmed. I keep being worried something will fall through and ruin his chance to live at this place, but so far so good. He's his only enemy that I'm aware of, in that he just needs to remember the things he needs to do to be happy and healthy. This place should be great - his own apartment with everything he physically needs, plus staff support. I'm mad at myself for being beside myself with nerves. One of the staff told me this is not unlike what all parents go through when a kid leaves the nest, so maybe this is normal??
Oh, yeah, and the guy that has been telling me since September he's going to get my fucking house painted "this weekend" can suck my big toe. You can't paint now that it's cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey. Dick. And I'm the numbnuts who took this long to tell you to get bent. So, yay me.
The holiday tree is up and the cats are chewing ornaments off the tree and the hubs is watching some rich fuckers play golf in Dubai in HD. The kids are upstairs farting around. And I'm really fighting myself not to go hit the vodka, but I know I've got lots of other shit to do that's more important. I just need to keep thinking about that.
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