I spent last weekend at my MIL's house (well, not in her house, but near her house. I can't stay in her house because she was babysitting my BIL's dog, which I am allergic too). It didn't go badly. I didn't get angry and upset. Anxiety, sure. But it wasn't horrible. But I have no doubt any longer that she is a narc.
I questioned myself for so long. I wondered if I was seeing "narcs" around every corner. She is not malignant. She is not out to get anyone. But she will throw anyone under the bus in order to get what she wants. Anyone and everyone is dispensable, if there is something in it for her.
She is obsessed with attention. She has to have all of the attention on her. She will deflect any negative attention onto the nearest person. She has to have all of the attention on her to shore up her constructed reality of herself. She believes she is kind, and generous and of the most importance to her family. She is the hub around which we all orbit.
In order to maintain this image she has created for herself she uses all sorts of tactics. The first being to constantly draw attention to herself. She is constantly pointing out how great she thinks she is. How my niece said she is the BEST cook ever. How my son couldn't WAIT to get to her house (to play with the toys, but she doesn't seem to register that). She's like a school girl hollering out to my husband "Do you like my flag!?" It's a fucking flag lady. Planted right in the way of entering onto the front porch. But she is tittering and giddy and cackling like a teenager. She tells stories in a way that make her look the hero. (For example, when my nephew fell off of a tire swing that she put him on-he's 2, much too young to hold on himself, and she walked away-she ran to my BIL and told him how she was running to get him and just wasn't fast enough. SHE put him in a dangerous situation and then tried to take credit for almost saving him from falling backwards and cracking his head off the ground.) She's constantly feeding her image. Last Christmas, she made a HUGE deal about how she "only" wanted family portraits from us for Christmas (never mind the expense of a family portrait session, or that it was three weeks before Christmas, or that I didn't want family portraits in the snow). She made herself sound like she ONLY wanted this simply little gift. I finally gave her one when I got our portraits done. I went looking for these portraits she made such a big deal of when I got to her home. Guess where I found them? Down the dark hallway. And BIL and SIL didn't even give her a family portrait (like she told us they did.) It was clear to me she cared less about the damn picture than looking like she was thoughtful and simple. She even had DH duped (she asked him-and only him- for the portrait in the first place, complete with instructions to get together with his brother and coordinate frames that went with her home) into thinking it was a simple request....until I pointed out all of the work I would have to do to give her the damn picture.
I've mentioned before how she likes to give me tons of worthless compliments. She compliments my toe nail polish or the scent of my home. She compliments me, thinking I'm such a sad sap (projection?) that these worthless comments will make me like her more. But the thing is, all of these compliments mean nothing. Toe nail polish? Any monkey can point to a bottle in the store and pick a nice color.
What I've discovered is that she never compliments me on anything of substance. On anything that could actually be attributed to me being worthy. At least not to my face. She tells my husband, when I'm not around, what good parents she thinks we are, how great my kids are, how well raised they are (and even then, notice that it is not a specific compliment to me, but to both of us....really, just him). When I have "out shown" her in some area, she minimizes it ("WELL, you make a good lasagna, but I make REALLY GOOD spaghetti"). She has to be the best mom, the best cook, the best Christian, the wisest and the smartest. And any compliments I have in this area threaten her. This is also the reason that she never asks my opinion (and BIL actually argues against my expertise) in areas that I actually am quite knowledgeable about (like the field of study I worked in for 7 years, have a degree in, and have a minor in. They all know better than me if I offer an opinion and they NEVER want to know what I think. This from a family that values each other's opinions over fact). She only compliments me on things she thinks she can compete with me on. And then she does.
In her campaign of images, she also has decided she needs to define everyone else's "image" (or roll) in the family too. So, she uses subtle techniques like mentioning (for the 100th time) that my SIL doesn't cook. She has actually spent a lot of time telling my husband (privately, hello triangulation!) about what a deficient mother SIL is. How BIL does ALL of the cooking and cleaning and child care. She implies SIL is spoiled and lazy. She implies SIL is a bad mother. This has a two fold effect: it makes SIL look bad, and it makes MIL look good by comparison. It also always MIL a way to discuss how she has to step in and help out. MIL asks me questions about how I parent....and then points out that she feels BIL and SIL do it wrong. I suspect she hopes that I'll bring it up to them and "teach them". I've mentioned that she tell them herself if she feels so strongly. She tells me that she doesn't "want to be that MIL."
SIL is one of her favorite "bad guys". Because in her mind, if she is the good guy, then someone has to play the bad guy. But anyone will work really. When I questioned my son being given choking hazards (in general, not really to her specifically; three adults were sitting there), she jumps to defend herself, "Well, I asked DH and he said it was OK!!". Who knows if she actually did. God forbid she get up and get a knife and cut the damn things in half. She's blamed DH a lot when she wasn't watching my niece and nephew. It's always someone else's fault. It was my BIL's fault that her household and children were crazy when they grew up. He had a mental illness and she had four boys and well, it was all due to them....not due to the fact that she couldn't get her shit together. It was DH's fault my niece slipped under water TWICE and had to be dragged out of the pool by me, despite the fact the MIL was in charge of her and DH and I were watching our own kids. It was MIL's sister's fault that they became estranged because her sister has mental problems and is under a lot of stress.
She's an expert at positioning people to look inferior and to blame. She makes lots of "concerned" comments about how other people do things. She shares gossip. When she mentions my youngest BIL has a new girlfriend, she and FIL started the conversation with "What have you heard about BIL's new girlfriend." Note: she said "WHAT HAVE YOU HEARD" not, have you heard he has a girlfriend or just simple stated it as a fact. And for the record, the girl is a VEGAN. I have a feeling this was meant to be a slight, but I changed the subject.
She sets me up to be the bad guy all of the time. She offers my children things and then I have to say no. She sneaks things to them. She waits until I'm out of the room to make her move. I walked into the house to find her huddled on the couch with DH, offering to take my children for the day. She does not offer to babysit my kids to my face. She often offers DH to take the kids. She knows that if she talked to me directly, I'd tell her I think she's too spacy and unsafe to watch my kids. So, she waits until I'm out of the room. Then she whispers. She offers up something she thinks that I'll like as bait (to convince him, not me. I brushed her off when she tried earlier in the morning to "sell" me her idea). She tries to get DH convinced of something before I get any say so. And then if I say no, she knows that I'll look like the bad guy. She makes me out to be the "rule enforcer" with my kids. When I am trying to get my kids to go to bed or to leave, she doesn't say good bye and help me. She continues to play with the kids and ignore me. When I tell my kids no, she says to my son, "I would love to do that with you, but your mom said no." She loves to point out that she would do something if I hadn't said no. And she usually offers these things up before she talks to me. Purposely. She bribes my kids with toys but then won't give them to them right away. So, I have to listen to my kids ask repeatedly why they can't have the toys right then. I would tell them to go ask her, but she loves that attention. So, I get to deal with the fallout.
Basically, she is a master manipulator who has trained her flying monkeys so well, that they often don't even know they are doing her work. She is a puppet master who whispers little suggestions in people's ears who then end up thinking that the idea was their own. She thinks it is her job to define everyone in the family and assign our roles. Clearly, me and SIL are at the bottom (as the biggest threats. My other SIL is a non-entity, as she is so emotionally broken and desperate for family she'll do anything.) I rank below the dogs. (That was one of the things that ticked me off. When her dog died last fall, she swore to my husband they wouldn't get another one because I am not able to be in her home with the dogs. It has long been a point of contention because she has subtly blamed ME and implied I only use it as an excuse to avoid her home. She has never bothered to learn about my asthma or allergies or what she can do to make me more comfortable - like by putting the dog outside, something she doesn't do unless asked. So, when the dog died, she was supposed to put me first. Guess what? She keeps BIL's dog most of the time because he can't handle it. She says it's temporary, but I know that's a lie. And really it doesn't matter, if she allows the dogs-other BIL has three- in her home frequently, the dander will always be there.) Anyway, she is busy ordering how and where everyone gets to fit in. She's already decided my older son is the golden child. Even DH can see that she "has a thing for him." I'll be DAMNED if I allow that and I won't be allowing her blatant favoritism anymore (she found some toy to give my older son when we were there, but had nothing for my toddler. This has happened more than once.)
I know, I know, what am I still doing hanging around her, you ask? Well, it's complicated. I consider it a victory that I'm not so rage filled after the visit as I used to be. The woman just doesn't get to me any more. Annoy me? Yes. Piss me off? Yes. But her power to manipulate me and make me feel badly is waning. I avoided falling into her gossip traps. I (mostly) avoided her negative talk (she really does know how to rope you into speaking negatively about people, and then she takes the "high road"). I had my wits about me a bit more and I was able to question her on things. I took an opportunity to "teach her" about gardening (she thinks she's an expert. She's the type of person that assumes she knows everything and can't fathom there is knowledge beyond what she possesses. I'm no expert, either, by the way, but I know more than her...by a lot.) I know she didn't listen to me. I know she didn't hear me. How? Because I've told her this shit before. And she's the type of person who just wants to be told some sort of "action" and wasn't interested in the explanations for things I gave her. But it gave me an opportunity to point out she didn't know what she was doing and wasn't the phenomenal gardener she pointed out to my husband when we arrived ("Did you see my plants! Aren't they great!!")
Really I would walk away from this woman in a heart beat. I don't think my kids would miss out. I feel badly saying that because I know it would hurt my husband. But seriously, my kids can't even remember her name (they call her my step mother's name, despite seeing my MIL constantly. How's that for ironic?). But my husband isn't willing to let go of his family. He's not willing to let go of his father (and neither am I really. I do love my FIL.) So, I'm stuck.
She's not overt enough or mean enough to point to anything. DH knows she's crazy and admits she can be hard and is not connected to his kids. He has never insisted that she babysits and doesn't make me leave my kids with her. He works really hard to help me by keeping her away from me. He doesn't make me have her stay in my home (except once) and tries to arrange things so that I have minimal exposure to her. He agrees she has narc tendencies and tries to protect the kids from her boundary violations. He has begun to see the reality of what BIL is. His feelings towards his brother and his coming out of the FOG with him is hopeful.
But he still makes excuses for his mother. He tells me I think about these incidents too much after we leave (do other people not process visits at all?). He has taken to blaming his brother for taking up all of his parents time and for the fact his parents spend less time with our kids. He feels that it's because BIL pawns off parenting on the grandparents. Which he does. But MIL allows and enables it (in fact, I believe she encourages it). He is struggling to see how manipulative she is. He does not see how she sets things up. I've actually seen him go into a sort of automatic mode where he covers for her (once, she told an obvious lie to him. Instead of calling her on it, he says he must have lied or misheard. My husband DOESN'T lie, so that's b.s. and he couldn't have misheard something as big as what MIL said. It was shocking to see him throw himself on the grenade so easily, so to speak.) He did it again this weekend. When I confronted him about not giving the boys equal gifts, he claimed some little thing she allowed my son to have was his gift. This is despite the fact that I heard MIL tell her that it was just some extra thing my son had found in a bag.
The last time I was around them, things went better too. DH seemed to think it was because they were better. I'm not sure why. They haven't done any work, they haven't changed. I have done all of the changing. I've learned to control my reactions and anxiety regarding them better. He just can't see her for what she is. None of them can. She has everyone convinced she is this eccentric, sweet, kind woman who is just a bit weird. He does not believe that she is purposely manipulating things in her favor. He doesn't confront her (or my BIL) at all. I know why, it's because if he does, they'll walk away. And he's not ready for that.
Watching someone take the red pill is hard. Enduring the bullshit while I wait is hard. I wish so much that he could see it all, but I know that no one can FULLY see until they are ready. I feel fortunate, in some ways, that I have my own fucked up FOO, because I can sympathize with what he is going through. I know how the process goes. I'm sure he will get there....I think. He's come so far already.
He asked me how I felt about the weekend. He thought it went well. He told me I did well. I know it was important to him. I know he doesn't want to cut himself off from all of his childhood hometown, family, and friends. (Frankly, I'm not going to let MIL run us off from all of that. They are not all flying monkeys). But when I brought up my concerns, although he says he heard me, I don't think he really believes me. I don't think he can see how truly manipulative she is. I think he thinks we might be able to get along one day. Well, fuck that, I'm not dumb. She's out to get me. You can't be friends with someone you don't trust and who would sell you out in a heart beat.
I've spent three days now (and lots of paper, my computer was down. Writing my hand sucks.) trying to think of an email to send him to express my thoughts. I've got MIL's number and I need him to hear what I have to say. But I also want him to understand what I say about her. To connect the dots. But I don't know how to show him. Even though he knows it in his head, agrees with what I've said, he doesn't really believe it in his heart.
Showing posts with label conditioning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label conditioning. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Friday, October 19, 2012
Obsessive Worrying
Jonsi's post the other day about Spaghetti got me thinking about how that issue translated into my life. (Hey look at me, I linked a post!). Anyway, food was never a big issue for me as a kid. Sure, my mother made a big deal out of herself that she cooked. She praised herself a lot for it. She still likes to think that serving a meal is a substitute for love. I know, for her, food was scarce when she was a kid. I know providing meals for her kids felt like a big victory. I know I felt loved when my mother made a big meal on Sunday. But it never was a huge issue for me as an adult.
My mother's biggest substitute for love was worry. If you love someone, you need to worry about them. Incessantly. And constantly. And obsessively. My mother was always worried about someone. Always concerned for their well being. And she always took it to the extreme. "But what if they DIE?". The more you worried about someone, the more you cared, and therefore, the more you loved them. My mother spends hours worrying about things. It consumes her. She was telling me just yesterday that the stress and worrying was causing her health problems.
Although I don't remember it being as much of an issue as a kid, I know worrying was there. I know I worried far too much for a kid. I know that I was pressed upon with issues far beyond my years. I know that I shouldn't have had to carry the burden of a lot of those "adult" worries. My mother over shared with me. My mother expressed her anxieties about too many things with little me.
When my parents divorced, was when I really remember worrying coming into my life. My sister, although always a "difficult" child, became out of control. And my mother made me her keeper. I was my mother's partner in worrying about my sister. She recruited me as co-parent, substituting me in for my father as her partner. I was expected to worry and stress about the increasingly out of control things my sister was doing. And in addition, my mother unloaded her worry onto me.
This was difficult for so many reasons. First and foremost, there was nothing I could do about most of my mother's worries. I had not control over my sister, I had no say in my mother's choices to parent her, and I was forced to watch and worry as a silent witness. Most of these issues were so far beyond the cope of what a person in their late teens could deal with. I felt helpless. I couldn't help my sister and I couldn't help my mother. And frankly, I don't think my mother wanted to give up her worrying. She just wanted me to worry along with her.
It has been this way for years. My mother worries, and stress, and she expects me to keep her company. The really difficult part is that my mother thinks she needs to decide how much worrying is enough. Like she carves out a worry pie, and doles me out half. She decides how much worrying I need to take on (half of what she has, if not more.) And here's where worrying is my spaghetti and meatballs: if I refuse that worry, I'm considering uncaring and unloving. I'm cold. I don't love my family. I don't support them enough. Not worrying enough about my family makes me a horrible person who doesn't love them. She's serving up an unhealthy habit, and if I refuse, I'm a bad daughter or sister. And then, on the flip side, if I do worry, if I spend time with the anxiety, then I'm weak. Or a stress case. In essence that's how she needles me for being "fat" for eating her "food". I'm not strong enough like her, or able to deal with things like her. She takes it as a moment to cut me down, insult me, and boost herself up at the same time.
I've spent years trying to get out of the worry rut. I could not shake that if I didn't worry obsessively about my family than I was uncaring. Somehow, I felt my worrying did some good for them. It proved I loved them, it proved I cared. God forbid, I do something good in my life, when someone else was suffering so much. It's carried on, even today. NM expressed that NSis made some remark about my "perfect, fairy tale life" and how it was a reflection on NSis. I really didn't push the comment, as it felt like a path I didn't want to go down. But I'm sure that NSis feels that by not worrying about her, by not sacrificing what's going on in my life, by continuing to live my "perfect life" that I've somehow slighted her. That it is a symbol of my "unlove" for her.
Around six years ago, I started having severe panic attacks. I worried obsessively day and night. What if DH gets run over by a car today? What if I get a disease? What if NSis dies? They were over dramatic worries. This is when things started to change. I went on some medication to stop the attacks. I got some help. I started to change my life. I started to really examine what was going on with me.
It's not perfect, but I've gotten better. I still worry more about my kids and DH than I probably should. I am fearful of loosing them. But I've been able to start to let go. I've decided that I don't want to waste my life worrying.
When my younger child was born, I realized I wasn't worrying about him as much. I was much less "cautious", much more easy going. It scared me for awhile. I felt like maybe I didn't love him as much as my older child. I must not care for him as much if I'm not worrying about his safety at every damn second of every damn day. I've really had to work to retrain my brain to stop these thoughts. I am convincing myself that hyper vigilance does not equal love. That I love both my kids. That I, in fact, love my family. But I don't have to destroy my mental health to express my love.
My mother's biggest substitute for love was worry. If you love someone, you need to worry about them. Incessantly. And constantly. And obsessively. My mother was always worried about someone. Always concerned for their well being. And she always took it to the extreme. "But what if they DIE?". The more you worried about someone, the more you cared, and therefore, the more you loved them. My mother spends hours worrying about things. It consumes her. She was telling me just yesterday that the stress and worrying was causing her health problems.
Although I don't remember it being as much of an issue as a kid, I know worrying was there. I know I worried far too much for a kid. I know that I was pressed upon with issues far beyond my years. I know that I shouldn't have had to carry the burden of a lot of those "adult" worries. My mother over shared with me. My mother expressed her anxieties about too many things with little me.
When my parents divorced, was when I really remember worrying coming into my life. My sister, although always a "difficult" child, became out of control. And my mother made me her keeper. I was my mother's partner in worrying about my sister. She recruited me as co-parent, substituting me in for my father as her partner. I was expected to worry and stress about the increasingly out of control things my sister was doing. And in addition, my mother unloaded her worry onto me.
This was difficult for so many reasons. First and foremost, there was nothing I could do about most of my mother's worries. I had not control over my sister, I had no say in my mother's choices to parent her, and I was forced to watch and worry as a silent witness. Most of these issues were so far beyond the cope of what a person in their late teens could deal with. I felt helpless. I couldn't help my sister and I couldn't help my mother. And frankly, I don't think my mother wanted to give up her worrying. She just wanted me to worry along with her.
It has been this way for years. My mother worries, and stress, and she expects me to keep her company. The really difficult part is that my mother thinks she needs to decide how much worrying is enough. Like she carves out a worry pie, and doles me out half. She decides how much worrying I need to take on (half of what she has, if not more.) And here's where worrying is my spaghetti and meatballs: if I refuse that worry, I'm considering uncaring and unloving. I'm cold. I don't love my family. I don't support them enough. Not worrying enough about my family makes me a horrible person who doesn't love them. She's serving up an unhealthy habit, and if I refuse, I'm a bad daughter or sister. And then, on the flip side, if I do worry, if I spend time with the anxiety, then I'm weak. Or a stress case. In essence that's how she needles me for being "fat" for eating her "food". I'm not strong enough like her, or able to deal with things like her. She takes it as a moment to cut me down, insult me, and boost herself up at the same time.
I've spent years trying to get out of the worry rut. I could not shake that if I didn't worry obsessively about my family than I was uncaring. Somehow, I felt my worrying did some good for them. It proved I loved them, it proved I cared. God forbid, I do something good in my life, when someone else was suffering so much. It's carried on, even today. NM expressed that NSis made some remark about my "perfect, fairy tale life" and how it was a reflection on NSis. I really didn't push the comment, as it felt like a path I didn't want to go down. But I'm sure that NSis feels that by not worrying about her, by not sacrificing what's going on in my life, by continuing to live my "perfect life" that I've somehow slighted her. That it is a symbol of my "unlove" for her.
Around six years ago, I started having severe panic attacks. I worried obsessively day and night. What if DH gets run over by a car today? What if I get a disease? What if NSis dies? They were over dramatic worries. This is when things started to change. I went on some medication to stop the attacks. I got some help. I started to change my life. I started to really examine what was going on with me.
It's not perfect, but I've gotten better. I still worry more about my kids and DH than I probably should. I am fearful of loosing them. But I've been able to start to let go. I've decided that I don't want to waste my life worrying.
When my younger child was born, I realized I wasn't worrying about him as much. I was much less "cautious", much more easy going. It scared me for awhile. I felt like maybe I didn't love him as much as my older child. I must not care for him as much if I'm not worrying about his safety at every damn second of every damn day. I've really had to work to retrain my brain to stop these thoughts. I am convincing myself that hyper vigilance does not equal love. That I love both my kids. That I, in fact, love my family. But I don't have to destroy my mental health to express my love.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
In and Out of the FOG
The F.O.G. (fear, obligation, guilt) is eating me alive. I am struggling. Struggling in my desire to protect myself, my family, my life from being swallowed by the chaos of my sister's life. Struggling to put my new found skills to use. Knowing in my head what I should do. But feeling in my heart and stomach and body such an ache. Such stress, and anxiety, and hurt.
I finally sent my sister a quick email. I didn't want to call. I didn't want to play her games, listen to her sob, knowing that it was all a bunch of unloading. I know that she has either not called, or talked little with, my parents. She still hasn't communicated with me at all. Which is crap. She needs to be an adult. I'm tired of chasing her around, throwing myself at her, desperate to have her let me help her. So, I emailed. I told her I had heard she had health problems (because no one still knows what the actual diagnosis is and she STILL hasn't made a follow up appointment, even with NM on her back). I told her to let me know if she needed anything. That I was thinking of her. I felt good about the message. I wasn't playing into anything, but felt I was extending myself to her, but wasn't wading into the pool of crap. She responded with "I am. I would like a friend." And that's it. I don't even know what to do with that. She still didn't address anything directly. I'm sure that there is anger and annoyance and b.s. in the reply. I'm not sure what effect she expected the reply to have on me.
This was my one really "fun" week of the summer. My family knew that. I have had to fight them all for it over and over. I doubt that this is too much of a coincidence that it is dropped on me now. I don't have the time or the energy or the will to devote anything to this. This week was supposed to be about my family. Having fun with my kids. I feel attacked by this. And I'm sure my FOO would say I was being selfish. And how could I just go on with my life when they are struggling so (this is a theme in my relationship with them). I feel guilt. Guilt that I'm not calling. Guilt that I am happy in my life. Guilt that I let their toxicity seep into my life and that it makes me stressed. And angry. And that I am less patient and tolerant and available for my kids. That is effects the type of mom and wife that I am. That I feel guilty for even thinking about myself and how this effects me. That I struggle with what a "healthy" family member's obligation to all this would be, compared with my feelings of trained obligation. That a lot of me just wants to ignore it and hope it all goes away. But that in doing that things would be irreparably changed. That it is taking a big step. That I'm angry. That I'm struggling with my feelings at all. That I often feel just the "fight or flight" feeling. Like a chicken with my head cut off, panicked, and I'm struggling to remain calm. Struggling through the constant emails and texts and implications that I'm not doing enough.
I'm just struggling and sinking and trying desperately to stay afloat.
I finally sent my sister a quick email. I didn't want to call. I didn't want to play her games, listen to her sob, knowing that it was all a bunch of unloading. I know that she has either not called, or talked little with, my parents. She still hasn't communicated with me at all. Which is crap. She needs to be an adult. I'm tired of chasing her around, throwing myself at her, desperate to have her let me help her. So, I emailed. I told her I had heard she had health problems (because no one still knows what the actual diagnosis is and she STILL hasn't made a follow up appointment, even with NM on her back). I told her to let me know if she needed anything. That I was thinking of her. I felt good about the message. I wasn't playing into anything, but felt I was extending myself to her, but wasn't wading into the pool of crap. She responded with "I am. I would like a friend." And that's it. I don't even know what to do with that. She still didn't address anything directly. I'm sure that there is anger and annoyance and b.s. in the reply. I'm not sure what effect she expected the reply to have on me.
This was my one really "fun" week of the summer. My family knew that. I have had to fight them all for it over and over. I doubt that this is too much of a coincidence that it is dropped on me now. I don't have the time or the energy or the will to devote anything to this. This week was supposed to be about my family. Having fun with my kids. I feel attacked by this. And I'm sure my FOO would say I was being selfish. And how could I just go on with my life when they are struggling so (this is a theme in my relationship with them). I feel guilt. Guilt that I'm not calling. Guilt that I am happy in my life. Guilt that I let their toxicity seep into my life and that it makes me stressed. And angry. And that I am less patient and tolerant and available for my kids. That is effects the type of mom and wife that I am. That I feel guilty for even thinking about myself and how this effects me. That I struggle with what a "healthy" family member's obligation to all this would be, compared with my feelings of trained obligation. That a lot of me just wants to ignore it and hope it all goes away. But that in doing that things would be irreparably changed. That it is taking a big step. That I'm angry. That I'm struggling with my feelings at all. That I often feel just the "fight or flight" feeling. Like a chicken with my head cut off, panicked, and I'm struggling to remain calm. Struggling through the constant emails and texts and implications that I'm not doing enough.
I'm just struggling and sinking and trying desperately to stay afloat.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
My Relationship with NMIL
I am going to apologize for the ramblings I'm about to do. I have so many thoughts swirling in my head, and I'm guessing it will all come out sort of jumbled. So, hang on and bear with me.
As DH and I have embarked upon this narcissistic journey, it's been a rough road. And although he can see my points about NM and conceeds that I have validity in what I saw about NMIL, he still can't see the big picture. He's still missing the larger ramifications, effects, legacies. He can't see the forest for the trees. All he can see is the trees, lined up individually. And when he sees the trees, he can't understand why I feel lost so deeply in her forest. He can't see how all those trees have stacked upon each other to form one black wall. Some of the trees seem so far in the past to him, he can't see why they still bother me, or I'm even still thinking about them. But for me those trees are all linked together. That farthest back tree is the foundation, the start of the forest, the moment I entered the deep woods. And he has asked me, several times, in a very sad way if I hate her. I don't hate her. I've tried to explain that I hate the way she treats me. I hate the way I've never stood up for myself. I hate that he always has dismissed her, excused her, trivialized what I have said.
I can remember vividly staring at my reflection as I closed my car door. I was about to meet DH's parents for the first time and I was shaking. I wanted so badly for them to like me. I wanted so badly to fit in. I loved him dearly already, and I wanted him to be proud of me. I was young, naive, and had no real identity in myself. I was locked in a horrible time with my mother and felt very alone and outcast. I had few girlfriends because I rarely trusted them. And the ones I did, I always wound up hurt. Not surprisingly, I was often the third wheel in a trio of friends (hello, NM and NSIS all over!) and I always felt hurt as i was locked on the outside. But I wanted to impress. I wanted to be liked. I was young.
NMIL was a church going-type lady. She sang in the choir, was involved in all kinds of groups. She was a no nonsense lady who was raising four boys. She was a bit tom boyish. She hadn't changed her hair style since the late 80s (this was in the late 90s) She was little, but round. She had a big laugh and ruled her kids with a tight rein. Her home was rowdy and boisterous and chaotic. But it was decorated in dainty florals and old victorian furniture. I learned later that the home had been her mother's. She clearly hadn't changed a thing in the 20 years she lived there...literally. For many, many years, not a picture changed on the wall, furniture never was rearranged, and even knickknacks that had been there for decades sat in the same spots in the bathroom.
And I wanted to fit in. So, I kept my mouth shut and went with the flow. I ignored how the family all lacked boundaries about walking around in their underwear, assuming it was "family of boy thing". I went to sporting events and family picnics. I met extended relatives and watched my mouth. I talked little about myself, but just tried to assimilate. I got the feeling, early on that that was expected of me. To assimilate. I smiled through gritted teeth as I was continually embarrassed by the family's loud, obnoxious behavior at restaurants (oh, this is just how we are!). I ignored the teasing, and the name calling and the meanness, as I again took it for "a family of boys". Boys will be boys.
I tolerated being made fun of and picked on for my small breasts (according to NMIL) in a very public way, on several occasions. And I was aware this was a family joke that ran behind my back. In fact, I became uncomfortable aware that ALL of me had been discussed by family members while not in my presence. I sucked it up when my boundaries were violated and things were asked of me that I really couldn't afford to give. I remember once an aunt telling her daughter to ask me for my hair barrettes that the daughter wanted. Because I should've just handed them over. It didn't matter that I was poor, or loved the barettes, or couldn't afford to replace them. I was just expected to give them because her daughter wanted them.
I tried to fit in. I became a "Christian" because I knew it was very important to NMIL. I even got baptized at her...um, insistence, I'll call it. I took her along to wedding planning events and stood dutifully as she plopped a tacky, large wedding crown on my petite head. I politely declined it, despite her insistance and offer to pay for it. I explained it wasn't my style. I argued as politely as I could that it just didn't go with my style. I tried to not take it personally when she mocked and commented negatively about what I had chose. I listened to all the family war stories over and over and laughed at the jokes. I took a very, long road trip with her to see DH and tried not to notice her almost bitter attitude as she dropped me off at his home and left for her hotel. I pretended that DH and I maintained all sorts of Christian pureness. I went along with lies when she bought (now SIL and BIL) and DH and I a hotel room on a family vacation and stated we had to sleep girls with girls and boys with boys. Absurd, weird, and gross now that I think about it. And I went on family vacations and went along with everything and tried to fit in.
The first red flags came when I dared to disagree with some of her Christian ideology. She had a very strict, literal view of things and it hadn't occurred to any of her sons to dispute her. They took her word for it that that was how things were. When I started to dissent, and offer up altneratives, I was ridiculed and put down. I remember feeling very badly. Not that she argued against me. She had BIL #2, who was to be the minister do that. She just told me that God had told her messages to give me. I found this odd.
NMIL raised her boys with the objective of getting it done. In fact, that is how she always did everything. It didn't matter how it got done, just that it was done. She asked me once to help BIL4 with homework, a paper. Having a teacher's soul, I sat down and began helping him. Asking him questions, helping him form sentences. But I would never have written it for him. I had to many ethics to do that. I knew that this kid's freshman teacher would never believe that he had written what I, a college educated and pretty literate person, would have written. I thought he needed to do it himself. I clearly remember her snatching the paper from me and complaining that she'd just "help" him herself. I apparently was taking too long. She never seemed to be interested in teaching her kids. She just corrected after the fact. And if she could find someone else to do part of it for her, she would. She often commented how DH's coach in school had given him discipline. She used teasing and yelling and name calling to keep her kids in line. She herded them like cattle towards the finish line. DH explained that she had it rough with four boys. It was hard to control them. She just was doing her best. Maybe she was. But she also seemed to have the philosophy of just throwing whatever at them and seeing what stuck. It was chaotic and pieced together and frantic. She never seemed to actually be in control despite always demanding to be in control. And she hardly ever let them do things for themselves. She explained this under the guise that she was helping them, but in reality I think she just wanted to take the easy way out. Just get it done as fast as possible. Not actually teach her kids to fish, but just throw fish at them and pat herself on the back for being a good provider. She picked paths for her kids and shoved them down them. She picked all three of DH's brothers' career paths (only one stuck, and that one is in jeopardy at the moment. I remember her hiring a resume writer for DH when he graduated college. She claimed this lady was the best, but that was her typical m.o. It didn't matter if the credentials were valid, as long as the person told her they were. So, she made some lady to type up a basic resume. She bought him some suits and some work clothes. She dressed him up and pushed him out, expecting the world. In image, her kids always looked the part of prepared grownups. Unfortunately, she never gave them the actually skills to be grown ups. And then she criticized them for their short comings and failings. (And luckily, DH didn't need her help, succeeded on his own, and didn't take her hand holding.) Again, she always wanted the result with out any work.
BIL3 has mental problems (learning and behavioral). He was the whipping boy and family joke. He took the brunt of the teasing and family stories about BIL3 were a favorite past time. They still are. And what I took for family reminising at the time has really started to bother me as of late. He was held up as the "different one". The reason the family was seen as crazy in the eyes of their town. He was the shield they all hid behind, allowed themselves to feel "normal" behind. I remember once suggesting that all of the family (except EFIL) had this particular disorder they liked to label BIL3 with. You'd thought I'd accused them all of murder. I assumed they all knew. They were shocked that anyone would suggest they were like him.
After DH and I got married, NMIL ratched up the push for grandkids. She bugged me all of the time. She had begun to push her way into my and DH's life by buying us season tickets to a sporting event...with them. So, we saw them all the time. It used to be one of our favorite things to do as a couple, but it got taken over. Ironically, DH got his season ticket bought for him for his birthday. I had to pay for mine myself. DH always explained it was just that his parents spent less on me for my birthday. I offered it to be my birthday and Christmas present. NMIL always refused. I don't think this was a coincidence or oversite. Regardless, she used these games to start pushing me. She hounded me for a grandkid (apparantly her son had no say, and it was all up to me, as she never bugged him.) She whined that all her friends had grandkids. She refused to here me as I said that we weren't ready (we were working through a lot at the time, including starting our careers and starting to come to terms with his family). She stated that BIL and SIL weren't ready for kids when I suggested she bug them, as they'd been married just as long as we had. I was irritated she believed she knew who was ready and who wasn't. She evesdropped and butted into conversations I had with friends at the tailgate parties before hand. She pushed me to "snuggle" under her blanket with her. She pushed and pushed. She expected to get my extra tickets if I didn't go to the game to give to her family or friends, but she never offered to pay me back for it. I was feeling more and more smothered and overwhelmed. She pushed for this relationship with me. Wanted us to be friends. But she never wanted to do the work, never wanted to get to know me. Always wanted to rush to the end where we were this super close daughter and mother-in-law. Just get it done.
Her grip of control started to tighten. As DH and I grew up and away from her into independence, she seemed to ramp up. She continued to plan big family vacations and functions and expected us to act as one unit, with her at the helm. I attributed it at the time to the other brothers still being young. She was still in that "mother of kids" mode. I figured she'd grow and adapt to the way things were. But she didn't. She continued to cling to the idea of how things used to be. And I believe she began to see me as a threat. She began to see me as a threat to her idea. She began relegating me to a "secondary" position in the family. She determined a hierarchy. It had always been there, but she began to make it much more clear. Showing clear favoritism towards her kids when giving gifts. Treating me as just another thing to get done when Christmas rolled around. She made ornaments with all of our names on them. "First Tier" family got big ornaments towards the top of the tree. SIL, me, the dog, and the bird got small ornaments at the bottom of the tree. And it could be argued that she ran out of big ornaments when she got to us. But even then, you can see how her thinking went. She seemed to treat me well, but it was clear to me that there was no thought, no desire to actually make me feel included or thought of. Just to give the image of the doting MIL. But behind the scenes, she started to amp things up. Snarky comments here and there. Little criticisms. Always taking someone else's side in a story. Telling cautionary tales about her SIL who disowned the family and what a horrible, wretch of a woman she was. I heard that story a lot. But I got the custom pleasantries, but no depth. No true intimacy. No real work. And it was my fault, cold, frigid, stuck-up person that I was, that the relationship didn't work.
When this didn't get her the results she wanted, she changed tactics. Instead of treating me "just like everyone else", she started treating me better (or so she thought). It was a full on assault to win my trust. She started stalking me whenever we were together. I couldn't take a step or change seats in a room without her following me. She told SIL to quit spending time as a group, as I acted differently when SIL was around (which to me, was much more comfortable because I had a buffer). She began staring at me like I was up on stage for viewing taking everything in. Nothing missed her eye. And she "complimented" me on everything. Everything was just wonderful. Everything I did was the best. She took my side against DH if I expressed an disagreement. She always took my side. Always told me how smart I was. It was all so phony. I didn't believe any of it. She changed her hair. Started changing her home. Dressing in a more..."youthful" way.
It was around this time she started her "coveting phase". I've always noticed that she had no real identity of her own. She always seemed to be a preschooler playing dress up. Taking out an identity, trying it on, growing bored and trying on something else. Her home and clothes and activities expressed nothing of who she was. Even the church activities were passed down to her. All relics of her parents that she just took on like a turtle's shell. Then, for whatever reason, she began to adopt the identity of DH and me. We went to Europe, she went to Europe. We got into wine, she got into wine (although we were "alcoholics" and "wine snobs" at first.) Anything we did, she did too. We got a new house, she remodeled her kitchen. It all felt very icky. I had nothing, owned nothing that she didn't covet. And the jealousy came out too. If I cooked something well, she cooked something better. When I got compliments for nicely wrapped gifts, she started wrapping gifts better (or at least my gifts, which bothers me even more. Like I would be impressed by that. I don't wrap gifts nicely to impress people, I do it because I want to show them I think they are important, worthy of something beautiful and my time. So much of what she does seems to be to try to impress me.) She has always been into what was "the best". She'd believe anyone if they told her it was the best, a good deal, or worthy. She must be a salesperson's dream. She doesn't ever discern anything for herself, but takes everyone's word about things. And so to compete, she started telling us about this "best wine" that she "knew you would like!!!" or some fabulous winery or movie or restaurant that she knew we would like, even if she couldn't actually take credit for the recommendation. It was all about appearing that she was in the know. Always laughing the loudest at the jokes. Always being in the middle of every activity. She couldn't be left out of anything. She was getting on my last nerve. I no longer trusted her or her intentions in the least bit. I didn't believe anything she said was authentic. Everything seemed to be for effect. Not only with me, but everyone. She offered to do everything, for everyone, all the time. Even if she didn't want to. Even if she was going to complain about that person to anyone who would listen. She didn't want to look like the bad person. But there was always the sideways comment. The little underbelly, passive-aggressive dig. They snarky looks. The temper if you called her on anything. When overt control had no longer work, she went underground. She started suggesting things, expressing the utmost concern to one brother about another. Planting seeds. The phoniness, the disingenuous nature of it all, it all being so much more work than it should've been, always feeling on guard.
And so it pretty much stands today. Me, walls up, on guard, distanced. Her always looking for a way to plow through my walls. Always feeling stalked, and cornered, and bullied. Lots of false talk and phoniness and shallow relationships. Lots of attempts at manipulation, offering "trips", "gifts", talking about how they are setting us up financially.
DH and I have come a long way since the beginning. He hardly ever took my side in the beginning. If I couldn't get along with his family, then I shouldn't let the door hit me on the way out. I wondered, briefly, why I put up with it then. But I know that it's because that's how life had always been. Get alone, sacrifice, sit down and shut up, or get the hell out. But he slowly started to listen. He started to actually believe me. He put down a lot of his excuses. He still uses "that's just the way she is. She won't change. She doesn't think of it that way. I'm sure she didn't mean it. We always tease in our family. She doesn't think before she acts. You read too much into her. You are too sensitive. You always look for things that aren't there. She doesn't do that on purpose. She's just excited/hyper/unorganized." but I get these excuses far less. He still jumps to defensiveness, but I can at least rationalize with him once the initial moment has passed. He is willing to listen to me. When I presented him with the 25 characteristics of narcissists with detailed notes about how NMIL fit them, he spent over an hour reading them all. And he believed me. And said I had some valid points. It's a long way from the beginning. But a long way from where I want to be. But I'm determined. I want him to see so he can lay down some of the legacy she's given him. So he will let go of some of the toxic ways she taught him to be a parent (and for the record, he is an amazing father, but struggles with some of the narcissistic traits and toxic parenting models we all do). To put down some of his defensiveness.
As DH and I have embarked upon this narcissistic journey, it's been a rough road. And although he can see my points about NM and conceeds that I have validity in what I saw about NMIL, he still can't see the big picture. He's still missing the larger ramifications, effects, legacies. He can't see the forest for the trees. All he can see is the trees, lined up individually. And when he sees the trees, he can't understand why I feel lost so deeply in her forest. He can't see how all those trees have stacked upon each other to form one black wall. Some of the trees seem so far in the past to him, he can't see why they still bother me, or I'm even still thinking about them. But for me those trees are all linked together. That farthest back tree is the foundation, the start of the forest, the moment I entered the deep woods. And he has asked me, several times, in a very sad way if I hate her. I don't hate her. I've tried to explain that I hate the way she treats me. I hate the way I've never stood up for myself. I hate that he always has dismissed her, excused her, trivialized what I have said.
I can remember vividly staring at my reflection as I closed my car door. I was about to meet DH's parents for the first time and I was shaking. I wanted so badly for them to like me. I wanted so badly to fit in. I loved him dearly already, and I wanted him to be proud of me. I was young, naive, and had no real identity in myself. I was locked in a horrible time with my mother and felt very alone and outcast. I had few girlfriends because I rarely trusted them. And the ones I did, I always wound up hurt. Not surprisingly, I was often the third wheel in a trio of friends (hello, NM and NSIS all over!) and I always felt hurt as i was locked on the outside. But I wanted to impress. I wanted to be liked. I was young.
NMIL was a church going-type lady. She sang in the choir, was involved in all kinds of groups. She was a no nonsense lady who was raising four boys. She was a bit tom boyish. She hadn't changed her hair style since the late 80s (this was in the late 90s) She was little, but round. She had a big laugh and ruled her kids with a tight rein. Her home was rowdy and boisterous and chaotic. But it was decorated in dainty florals and old victorian furniture. I learned later that the home had been her mother's. She clearly hadn't changed a thing in the 20 years she lived there...literally. For many, many years, not a picture changed on the wall, furniture never was rearranged, and even knickknacks that had been there for decades sat in the same spots in the bathroom.
And I wanted to fit in. So, I kept my mouth shut and went with the flow. I ignored how the family all lacked boundaries about walking around in their underwear, assuming it was "family of boy thing". I went to sporting events and family picnics. I met extended relatives and watched my mouth. I talked little about myself, but just tried to assimilate. I got the feeling, early on that that was expected of me. To assimilate. I smiled through gritted teeth as I was continually embarrassed by the family's loud, obnoxious behavior at restaurants (oh, this is just how we are!). I ignored the teasing, and the name calling and the meanness, as I again took it for "a family of boys". Boys will be boys.
I tolerated being made fun of and picked on for my small breasts (according to NMIL) in a very public way, on several occasions. And I was aware this was a family joke that ran behind my back. In fact, I became uncomfortable aware that ALL of me had been discussed by family members while not in my presence. I sucked it up when my boundaries were violated and things were asked of me that I really couldn't afford to give. I remember once an aunt telling her daughter to ask me for my hair barrettes that the daughter wanted. Because I should've just handed them over. It didn't matter that I was poor, or loved the barettes, or couldn't afford to replace them. I was just expected to give them because her daughter wanted them.
I tried to fit in. I became a "Christian" because I knew it was very important to NMIL. I even got baptized at her...um, insistence, I'll call it. I took her along to wedding planning events and stood dutifully as she plopped a tacky, large wedding crown on my petite head. I politely declined it, despite her insistance and offer to pay for it. I explained it wasn't my style. I argued as politely as I could that it just didn't go with my style. I tried to not take it personally when she mocked and commented negatively about what I had chose. I listened to all the family war stories over and over and laughed at the jokes. I took a very, long road trip with her to see DH and tried not to notice her almost bitter attitude as she dropped me off at his home and left for her hotel. I pretended that DH and I maintained all sorts of Christian pureness. I went along with lies when she bought (now SIL and BIL) and DH and I a hotel room on a family vacation and stated we had to sleep girls with girls and boys with boys. Absurd, weird, and gross now that I think about it. And I went on family vacations and went along with everything and tried to fit in.
The first red flags came when I dared to disagree with some of her Christian ideology. She had a very strict, literal view of things and it hadn't occurred to any of her sons to dispute her. They took her word for it that that was how things were. When I started to dissent, and offer up altneratives, I was ridiculed and put down. I remember feeling very badly. Not that she argued against me. She had BIL #2, who was to be the minister do that. She just told me that God had told her messages to give me. I found this odd.
NMIL raised her boys with the objective of getting it done. In fact, that is how she always did everything. It didn't matter how it got done, just that it was done. She asked me once to help BIL4 with homework, a paper. Having a teacher's soul, I sat down and began helping him. Asking him questions, helping him form sentences. But I would never have written it for him. I had to many ethics to do that. I knew that this kid's freshman teacher would never believe that he had written what I, a college educated and pretty literate person, would have written. I thought he needed to do it himself. I clearly remember her snatching the paper from me and complaining that she'd just "help" him herself. I apparently was taking too long. She never seemed to be interested in teaching her kids. She just corrected after the fact. And if she could find someone else to do part of it for her, she would. She often commented how DH's coach in school had given him discipline. She used teasing and yelling and name calling to keep her kids in line. She herded them like cattle towards the finish line. DH explained that she had it rough with four boys. It was hard to control them. She just was doing her best. Maybe she was. But she also seemed to have the philosophy of just throwing whatever at them and seeing what stuck. It was chaotic and pieced together and frantic. She never seemed to actually be in control despite always demanding to be in control. And she hardly ever let them do things for themselves. She explained this under the guise that she was helping them, but in reality I think she just wanted to take the easy way out. Just get it done as fast as possible. Not actually teach her kids to fish, but just throw fish at them and pat herself on the back for being a good provider. She picked paths for her kids and shoved them down them. She picked all three of DH's brothers' career paths (only one stuck, and that one is in jeopardy at the moment. I remember her hiring a resume writer for DH when he graduated college. She claimed this lady was the best, but that was her typical m.o. It didn't matter if the credentials were valid, as long as the person told her they were. So, she made some lady to type up a basic resume. She bought him some suits and some work clothes. She dressed him up and pushed him out, expecting the world. In image, her kids always looked the part of prepared grownups. Unfortunately, she never gave them the actually skills to be grown ups. And then she criticized them for their short comings and failings. (And luckily, DH didn't need her help, succeeded on his own, and didn't take her hand holding.) Again, she always wanted the result with out any work.
BIL3 has mental problems (learning and behavioral). He was the whipping boy and family joke. He took the brunt of the teasing and family stories about BIL3 were a favorite past time. They still are. And what I took for family reminising at the time has really started to bother me as of late. He was held up as the "different one". The reason the family was seen as crazy in the eyes of their town. He was the shield they all hid behind, allowed themselves to feel "normal" behind. I remember once suggesting that all of the family (except EFIL) had this particular disorder they liked to label BIL3 with. You'd thought I'd accused them all of murder. I assumed they all knew. They were shocked that anyone would suggest they were like him.
After DH and I got married, NMIL ratched up the push for grandkids. She bugged me all of the time. She had begun to push her way into my and DH's life by buying us season tickets to a sporting event...with them. So, we saw them all the time. It used to be one of our favorite things to do as a couple, but it got taken over. Ironically, DH got his season ticket bought for him for his birthday. I had to pay for mine myself. DH always explained it was just that his parents spent less on me for my birthday. I offered it to be my birthday and Christmas present. NMIL always refused. I don't think this was a coincidence or oversite. Regardless, she used these games to start pushing me. She hounded me for a grandkid (apparantly her son had no say, and it was all up to me, as she never bugged him.) She whined that all her friends had grandkids. She refused to here me as I said that we weren't ready (we were working through a lot at the time, including starting our careers and starting to come to terms with his family). She stated that BIL and SIL weren't ready for kids when I suggested she bug them, as they'd been married just as long as we had. I was irritated she believed she knew who was ready and who wasn't. She evesdropped and butted into conversations I had with friends at the tailgate parties before hand. She pushed me to "snuggle" under her blanket with her. She pushed and pushed. She expected to get my extra tickets if I didn't go to the game to give to her family or friends, but she never offered to pay me back for it. I was feeling more and more smothered and overwhelmed. She pushed for this relationship with me. Wanted us to be friends. But she never wanted to do the work, never wanted to get to know me. Always wanted to rush to the end where we were this super close daughter and mother-in-law. Just get it done.
Her grip of control started to tighten. As DH and I grew up and away from her into independence, she seemed to ramp up. She continued to plan big family vacations and functions and expected us to act as one unit, with her at the helm. I attributed it at the time to the other brothers still being young. She was still in that "mother of kids" mode. I figured she'd grow and adapt to the way things were. But she didn't. She continued to cling to the idea of how things used to be. And I believe she began to see me as a threat. She began to see me as a threat to her idea. She began relegating me to a "secondary" position in the family. She determined a hierarchy. It had always been there, but she began to make it much more clear. Showing clear favoritism towards her kids when giving gifts. Treating me as just another thing to get done when Christmas rolled around. She made ornaments with all of our names on them. "First Tier" family got big ornaments towards the top of the tree. SIL, me, the dog, and the bird got small ornaments at the bottom of the tree. And it could be argued that she ran out of big ornaments when she got to us. But even then, you can see how her thinking went. She seemed to treat me well, but it was clear to me that there was no thought, no desire to actually make me feel included or thought of. Just to give the image of the doting MIL. But behind the scenes, she started to amp things up. Snarky comments here and there. Little criticisms. Always taking someone else's side in a story. Telling cautionary tales about her SIL who disowned the family and what a horrible, wretch of a woman she was. I heard that story a lot. But I got the custom pleasantries, but no depth. No true intimacy. No real work. And it was my fault, cold, frigid, stuck-up person that I was, that the relationship didn't work.
When this didn't get her the results she wanted, she changed tactics. Instead of treating me "just like everyone else", she started treating me better (or so she thought). It was a full on assault to win my trust. She started stalking me whenever we were together. I couldn't take a step or change seats in a room without her following me. She told SIL to quit spending time as a group, as I acted differently when SIL was around (which to me, was much more comfortable because I had a buffer). She began staring at me like I was up on stage for viewing taking everything in. Nothing missed her eye. And she "complimented" me on everything. Everything was just wonderful. Everything I did was the best. She took my side against DH if I expressed an disagreement. She always took my side. Always told me how smart I was. It was all so phony. I didn't believe any of it. She changed her hair. Started changing her home. Dressing in a more..."youthful" way.
It was around this time she started her "coveting phase". I've always noticed that she had no real identity of her own. She always seemed to be a preschooler playing dress up. Taking out an identity, trying it on, growing bored and trying on something else. Her home and clothes and activities expressed nothing of who she was. Even the church activities were passed down to her. All relics of her parents that she just took on like a turtle's shell. Then, for whatever reason, she began to adopt the identity of DH and me. We went to Europe, she went to Europe. We got into wine, she got into wine (although we were "alcoholics" and "wine snobs" at first.) Anything we did, she did too. We got a new house, she remodeled her kitchen. It all felt very icky. I had nothing, owned nothing that she didn't covet. And the jealousy came out too. If I cooked something well, she cooked something better. When I got compliments for nicely wrapped gifts, she started wrapping gifts better (or at least my gifts, which bothers me even more. Like I would be impressed by that. I don't wrap gifts nicely to impress people, I do it because I want to show them I think they are important, worthy of something beautiful and my time. So much of what she does seems to be to try to impress me.) She has always been into what was "the best". She'd believe anyone if they told her it was the best, a good deal, or worthy. She must be a salesperson's dream. She doesn't ever discern anything for herself, but takes everyone's word about things. And so to compete, she started telling us about this "best wine" that she "knew you would like!!!" or some fabulous winery or movie or restaurant that she knew we would like, even if she couldn't actually take credit for the recommendation. It was all about appearing that she was in the know. Always laughing the loudest at the jokes. Always being in the middle of every activity. She couldn't be left out of anything. She was getting on my last nerve. I no longer trusted her or her intentions in the least bit. I didn't believe anything she said was authentic. Everything seemed to be for effect. Not only with me, but everyone. She offered to do everything, for everyone, all the time. Even if she didn't want to. Even if she was going to complain about that person to anyone who would listen. She didn't want to look like the bad person. But there was always the sideways comment. The little underbelly, passive-aggressive dig. They snarky looks. The temper if you called her on anything. When overt control had no longer work, she went underground. She started suggesting things, expressing the utmost concern to one brother about another. Planting seeds. The phoniness, the disingenuous nature of it all, it all being so much more work than it should've been, always feeling on guard.
And so it pretty much stands today. Me, walls up, on guard, distanced. Her always looking for a way to plow through my walls. Always feeling stalked, and cornered, and bullied. Lots of false talk and phoniness and shallow relationships. Lots of attempts at manipulation, offering "trips", "gifts", talking about how they are setting us up financially.
DH and I have come a long way since the beginning. He hardly ever took my side in the beginning. If I couldn't get along with his family, then I shouldn't let the door hit me on the way out. I wondered, briefly, why I put up with it then. But I know that it's because that's how life had always been. Get alone, sacrifice, sit down and shut up, or get the hell out. But he slowly started to listen. He started to actually believe me. He put down a lot of his excuses. He still uses "that's just the way she is. She won't change. She doesn't think of it that way. I'm sure she didn't mean it. We always tease in our family. She doesn't think before she acts. You read too much into her. You are too sensitive. You always look for things that aren't there. She doesn't do that on purpose. She's just excited/hyper/unorganized." but I get these excuses far less. He still jumps to defensiveness, but I can at least rationalize with him once the initial moment has passed. He is willing to listen to me. When I presented him with the 25 characteristics of narcissists with detailed notes about how NMIL fit them, he spent over an hour reading them all. And he believed me. And said I had some valid points. It's a long way from the beginning. But a long way from where I want to be. But I'm determined. I want him to see so he can lay down some of the legacy she's given him. So he will let go of some of the toxic ways she taught him to be a parent (and for the record, he is an amazing father, but struggles with some of the narcissistic traits and toxic parenting models we all do). To put down some of his defensiveness.
Friday, April 20, 2012
My Baby
My NM (narcissistic mother) told me for many years that she didn't want to become a grandmother yet. She was too young. As a side note, she had a similar reaction when I called to tell her I was engaged. I was so excited to call and tell her I was getting married. "What?! I can't deal with this. I've been so stressed that I will be turning 50 next year. I can't deal with this. Talk to your step-dad." And she got off the phone. When she finally did get back on to talk to me, she clearly wasn't happy about it.
But back to the point. One day, she declared she was ready to be a grandmother. This didn't influence me, as I was already planning on having a baby. Before my son was born and during the first year, she spent thousands of dollars on stuff. Junk mainly. And I was never grateful enough. My father and she had been young and had less money when I was born. I'm sure she felt, in fact I know she felt, she was a great savior. That she was providing for us all that she had to do without. Never mind that I didn't want, or like, most of what she bought. Or that my husband and I were perfectly capable of providing for my son.
When Jake was born, she became obsessed. "Obsessed" was my step-father's word. And she was. He consumed all of her thoughts and mind. She completely ignored me when around him. In the middle of a sentence, she would interrupt and start talking to the baby. She would just stare at him as he ate, ignoring her own meal. In fact, she stared at him all the time. She was obsessed too with being the "favorite" grandparent. She told me repeatedly that she would be closest to my son, as I parented so much like her, and we sounded so much alike. It was weird.
But it got weirder. She would often refer to herself as "mom". A typical slip up. But she would refer to me as "grandma". Not a slip up. She started to try and isolate my son from his father. If she was holding him, she'd say "Tell daddy no! No daddy" when Paul tried to take the baby. She'd do this when my husband would give an instruction about my baby. I would always stop her, but she acted as if it was a game. Like she was being funny. She bought my son TONS of toys. She never went anywhere without buying him tons of crap. She waltzed in one time with my (then two) son's first big boy bike. He couldn't even ride a tricycle at the time. I was saddened. I had wanted to get my son his first bike. I had wanted my SON to pick it out. I had wanted to make it a special event for my son, when he was ready. She stole many such moments. She had to pick out the first Christmas outfit. She bought him a Christmas stocking. None of these things would have been such a big deal on their own. And in fact, in trying to explain why it bothered me so badly, I just sounded superficial and controlling. But if felt like she was trying to have him be HER son. Like she was purposely imposing on every big moment.
She told me a story once about a man she met on the plane. He had told her that if she fed the baby when he was very little, it would bond them forever. She brought this up many times. Unfortunately for her, I breastfed exclusively. And my son refused bottles. This annoyed her so much. She would take every opportunity to rush in a head of me and meet his needs. She never noticed these needs, but noticed me about to meet them, and she would snatch whatever it was from me. The only thing she wouldn't do (or at least often) is change diapers. She hated this.
When my son began to grow up and get ideas of his own, things started to change. It got worse when my second son was born. These are the incidents that really stick out in my mind about this time:
*My husband, son, NM, and I were having dinner. Jake was just under 3. He wanted so desperately to be a big boy and join in the "conversation" at the dinner table. He was telling a somewhat involved story and he was laboring a bit over the sentence structures. Paul and I found it endearing and adorable. He'd been going on for about five minutes when, apparently, she became bored. She interrupted him and started telling her own story. Hubby and I were used to her doing this to us, but it shocked me she would do it to him.
*My husband and step-father would spend a lot of time together. When they would come home, before they even hung up their coats she would be at them. "Jake, show them what grandma taught you". And then she'd make him perform like a circus seal all the tricks she'd taught him. She didn't encourage him, she out and out told him what to say and do. I told her to knock it off once. "What? I'm just proud of him. I want them to see what he can do". I felt so helpless.
*When Caleb was born, Jake was understandably shaken up. I was gone for 5 days in the hospital and life was chaotic. He was also under NM's care alot. By the end, he was tired, cranky, and just off. I felt so badly for him and said as such to my mom. "He needs some attention," I said. "He's gotten enough attention! I've given him plenty of attention." Well, he needed his MOM's attention. She was not a substitute for me and it annoyed me she thought she was. He was scared and jealous. All understandably so. And she had absolutely no empathy.
*While she was here during my son's birth, I made some plans for special outings for fun, as I knew I wouldn't be able to do a lot with Jake once she left (surgery and all). NM made it clear she thought this was a bit ridiculous of me (catering to my child), but went along. Most of the time she was "exhausted" and grouchy by the time we came home, even though she did little of the actual work. It was clear going to the playground and such were not want SHE wanted to do. When we got home one day, I was unpacking the car and Jake wanted to ride his tricycle. I asked her to take him around the block and let him play for a few minutes. Within about five minutes, Jake was running through the door crying. What happened? I asked. She said simple "He didn't want to get off his bike." and she smirked. This incident haunts me. I still have no idea what happened. And even the fact that she could only spare five minutes bothers me. Five minutes was it because she was "old" and "tired". For her precious grandson who had been her obsession for so long.
*We were talking about my son starting preschool. He was SO excited and we were talking it up. "Oh, Jake, I can't believe you're going to preschool" she said. "That makes grandma SOOO sad!". "MOM!" I chastised. "Why would you say that? You'll confuse him. This is a good thing. He won't understand why it would make YOU sad". Again with the smirk. And nothing else. But at least she shut up.
*She bought a train table for my son's 2nd birthday. One that I had to put together, I might add, because she "wouldn't have time" when she arrived. We had just moved and I had a million other things to do, but I dutifully put it together. More for him than her, but still. A year later, she was at our house and he hadn't been playing with it all that much. "Why don't you play with that table I bought you?" She pestered him about it over and over. Because he's 3. Because he has other things to play. Because he has a mind of his frickin' own lady! Leave him be.
*I asked her to help my son with a puzzle. My son became distracted by a cartoon for a moment. She literally ripped the puzzle piece from his hand because she knew where it went. She then finished the puzzle by herself. A CHILD'S 60 piece jigsaw puzzle by herself. And she was so smug and proud when she did. She seemed so childish and immature.
She makes me nervous. I don't trust her. Everyone says she's the doting grandma. She says all the right things. I always wonder how much I'm seeing through the lens of my own feelings about my childhood. She sure as hell never treated me like she does him. But everyone says she's just excited or just loves him so much. They all act like it's normal. Just another thing that makes me feel off balance. Another way I don't trust myself to perceive reality.
But back to the point. One day, she declared she was ready to be a grandmother. This didn't influence me, as I was already planning on having a baby. Before my son was born and during the first year, she spent thousands of dollars on stuff. Junk mainly. And I was never grateful enough. My father and she had been young and had less money when I was born. I'm sure she felt, in fact I know she felt, she was a great savior. That she was providing for us all that she had to do without. Never mind that I didn't want, or like, most of what she bought. Or that my husband and I were perfectly capable of providing for my son.
When Jake was born, she became obsessed. "Obsessed" was my step-father's word. And she was. He consumed all of her thoughts and mind. She completely ignored me when around him. In the middle of a sentence, she would interrupt and start talking to the baby. She would just stare at him as he ate, ignoring her own meal. In fact, she stared at him all the time. She was obsessed too with being the "favorite" grandparent. She told me repeatedly that she would be closest to my son, as I parented so much like her, and we sounded so much alike. It was weird.
But it got weirder. She would often refer to herself as "mom". A typical slip up. But she would refer to me as "grandma". Not a slip up. She started to try and isolate my son from his father. If she was holding him, she'd say "Tell daddy no! No daddy" when Paul tried to take the baby. She'd do this when my husband would give an instruction about my baby. I would always stop her, but she acted as if it was a game. Like she was being funny. She bought my son TONS of toys. She never went anywhere without buying him tons of crap. She waltzed in one time with my (then two) son's first big boy bike. He couldn't even ride a tricycle at the time. I was saddened. I had wanted to get my son his first bike. I had wanted my SON to pick it out. I had wanted to make it a special event for my son, when he was ready. She stole many such moments. She had to pick out the first Christmas outfit. She bought him a Christmas stocking. None of these things would have been such a big deal on their own. And in fact, in trying to explain why it bothered me so badly, I just sounded superficial and controlling. But if felt like she was trying to have him be HER son. Like she was purposely imposing on every big moment.
She told me a story once about a man she met on the plane. He had told her that if she fed the baby when he was very little, it would bond them forever. She brought this up many times. Unfortunately for her, I breastfed exclusively. And my son refused bottles. This annoyed her so much. She would take every opportunity to rush in a head of me and meet his needs. She never noticed these needs, but noticed me about to meet them, and she would snatch whatever it was from me. The only thing she wouldn't do (or at least often) is change diapers. She hated this.
When my son began to grow up and get ideas of his own, things started to change. It got worse when my second son was born. These are the incidents that really stick out in my mind about this time:
*My husband, son, NM, and I were having dinner. Jake was just under 3. He wanted so desperately to be a big boy and join in the "conversation" at the dinner table. He was telling a somewhat involved story and he was laboring a bit over the sentence structures. Paul and I found it endearing and adorable. He'd been going on for about five minutes when, apparently, she became bored. She interrupted him and started telling her own story. Hubby and I were used to her doing this to us, but it shocked me she would do it to him.
*My husband and step-father would spend a lot of time together. When they would come home, before they even hung up their coats she would be at them. "Jake, show them what grandma taught you". And then she'd make him perform like a circus seal all the tricks she'd taught him. She didn't encourage him, she out and out told him what to say and do. I told her to knock it off once. "What? I'm just proud of him. I want them to see what he can do". I felt so helpless.
*When Caleb was born, Jake was understandably shaken up. I was gone for 5 days in the hospital and life was chaotic. He was also under NM's care alot. By the end, he was tired, cranky, and just off. I felt so badly for him and said as such to my mom. "He needs some attention," I said. "He's gotten enough attention! I've given him plenty of attention." Well, he needed his MOM's attention. She was not a substitute for me and it annoyed me she thought she was. He was scared and jealous. All understandably so. And she had absolutely no empathy.
*While she was here during my son's birth, I made some plans for special outings for fun, as I knew I wouldn't be able to do a lot with Jake once she left (surgery and all). NM made it clear she thought this was a bit ridiculous of me (catering to my child), but went along. Most of the time she was "exhausted" and grouchy by the time we came home, even though she did little of the actual work. It was clear going to the playground and such were not want SHE wanted to do. When we got home one day, I was unpacking the car and Jake wanted to ride his tricycle. I asked her to take him around the block and let him play for a few minutes. Within about five minutes, Jake was running through the door crying. What happened? I asked. She said simple "He didn't want to get off his bike." and she smirked. This incident haunts me. I still have no idea what happened. And even the fact that she could only spare five minutes bothers me. Five minutes was it because she was "old" and "tired". For her precious grandson who had been her obsession for so long.
*We were talking about my son starting preschool. He was SO excited and we were talking it up. "Oh, Jake, I can't believe you're going to preschool" she said. "That makes grandma SOOO sad!". "MOM!" I chastised. "Why would you say that? You'll confuse him. This is a good thing. He won't understand why it would make YOU sad". Again with the smirk. And nothing else. But at least she shut up.
*She bought a train table for my son's 2nd birthday. One that I had to put together, I might add, because she "wouldn't have time" when she arrived. We had just moved and I had a million other things to do, but I dutifully put it together. More for him than her, but still. A year later, she was at our house and he hadn't been playing with it all that much. "Why don't you play with that table I bought you?" She pestered him about it over and over. Because he's 3. Because he has other things to play. Because he has a mind of his frickin' own lady! Leave him be.
*I asked her to help my son with a puzzle. My son became distracted by a cartoon for a moment. She literally ripped the puzzle piece from his hand because she knew where it went. She then finished the puzzle by herself. A CHILD'S 60 piece jigsaw puzzle by herself. And she was so smug and proud when she did. She seemed so childish and immature.
She makes me nervous. I don't trust her. Everyone says she's the doting grandma. She says all the right things. I always wonder how much I'm seeing through the lens of my own feelings about my childhood. She sure as hell never treated me like she does him. But everyone says she's just excited or just loves him so much. They all act like it's normal. Just another thing that makes me feel off balance. Another way I don't trust myself to perceive reality.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Divorce Part II : How NM blamed it all on me
My mother went on like nothing happened after the divorce. Blissfully happy in her new family and new life. I was hurt that she could cast my sister and me aside so easily, but I still loved her so much, wanted to support her, wanted to be a part of her life. I desperately did all I could to be the good daughter.
When I went away to college, my relationship with my mom (Hilda) changed. I thought at the time that it was for the better. She called me all the time. Not to check on me really. Oh, she asked about me and "worried" and "stressed" about her poor, silly daughter, so far from home. So far from her. (And as a side note, I had somewhat intentionally chosen to go to college as far from her as possible. My releasing had began even if I didn't fully realize it.) But she never really seemed to listen or care about the things I was struggling with. Mainly because it didn't compare to the things she was going through with my sister. Those were REAL problems. This would be, and still is a theme, in my relationship with my sister and mom. Their self-induced drama and problems and chaos were always so much more important than what was going on in my life. How can you complain, Jessie? What do you have to be sad about, Jessie? If you want to know about a real problem, Jessie let me tell you about.... And, yes, the things going on with my sister were bad. She had always been a "spirited" child. But after the divorce, she went crazy. Drugs, running away, rapes, sex with boys, not coming home. On and on. And my mother would call, detailing every bit. She would complain to me and cry. I felt horrible. I felt helpless. There was nothing I could do, especially 400 miles away. My sister and I didn't even talk at this time. We would be estranged and loathe each other for a long time (mainly created by my mother, but that is another post). Hilda would tell me I was like "her personal psychologist". This made me feel important at the time. My mother needed me! After years of ignoring me, she needed me. I can see now, that it was killing me. I was so helpless and these problems were beyond my ability to fix. Not that my mother did anything either to help. She just enabled and enabled. Lamented about why she was so unfortunate to have a daughter like my sister. Years later I would suggest that maybe the divorce or her behavior had something to do with it. My mother cried and became upset, yelled that she was a horrible mother. But what did I want her to do about it. "I can't take back the past! I had to do what was best for me!" She said she was sorry, but I never believed her. I lived with knots in my stomach for years. What should've been a wonderful period of growth and discovery for me, became about her and her problems and her stress. Trips home were awful. And on occasion, she would drop my sister off with me. So she could get away and relax. These occasions terrified me. To be responsible for someone so out of control. To have someone around me who was so volatile and could wreck havoc in the little support system I had created at school. I was terrified my sister would reveal the craziness that was home to my friends.
I met my husband around my junior year. The relationship with my mom started to dissolve. When I wasn't there for her solely, she became upset. We became combative. As I found myself, and with support from my husband (then boyfriend) I began to move out of her control. I was not at her beck and call. I tried to create my own life. She became desperate. She would call and cry and overwhelm me with her constant need for attention. And when she would visit, things would get bad. They always ended in arguments. The fights always started with her being condescending, or rude, or putting me or Paul (hubby) down. She would accuse me of not being there for her in her problems with Erica. I would tell her that it was killing me and she needed to learn on her husband or call my father. My father sent her into rages because she no longer controlled him. She wanted him to parent as she was parenting. To obsess and enable my sister. And then when he didn't, her anger turned to me and she would say "It's not fair that I'm the only one dealing with Erica. I shouldn't have to do this alone. If I have to deal with it, you all should deal with it too. If I have to have this stress in my life, so should you." Why should I? I wanted to scream. I didn't create her messes. I was helpless to fix them. I had my own life. She never tried to shelter me, or protect me. She wanted to drag me down into her hole. Anyway, these arguments would happen and when I would confront her, she would play her trump card. "You're not over the divorce" she would smirk. As if this was my fatal flaw. And I never knew how to respond. Because, yeah, I really wasn't over it. I had never grieved, never mourned, never had any moment to express MY feelings. I was always so busy taking care of everyone else. But that was beside the point. This wasn't about that anger. This was about her being rude and spiteful and selfish. She would spit "you need therapy". Again, this was true. But she acted as if I got "fixed" then all the problems would disappear. We would no longer have conflict. She refused to see that she had ownership in anything. And as these fights layered on each other, my frustration grew. And she would amp things up with each fight. And then one time, she told me she had gotten the divorce for Erica and me. My dad was poor and angry and depressed. And she felt that Hank would be a better father. She blamed ME for it all. I couldn't even fathom how she concluded this. How she spun things to make herself seem the hero, making the selfless sacrifice for her daughters. Never mind that my Dad wasn't as horrible as she made out (he was hard and angry but definitely not some loser father) but I never could have "replaced" him. I loved my Dad. Never mind that SHE benefited the most from this event. Never mind that she repeatedly told me she had done this for her "freedom". When cornered, she turned around and blamed me. I began to harden towards her. And finally, after one argument, where she berated me that I needed to get over things, I needed to let go, I needed to fix myself, I lost it. Hell yeah, I was angry. Hell yeah, I was hurt. "You abandoned me and Erica when we needed you so that you could go and fuck Hank." Silence. I was small and sad and tired in the back of the car. I'd felt like a beaten, caged animal. She had pushed me too far. I instantly felt horrible, guilty. But I also felt a little better. And that made me feel guilty. She had been pushing me to say this for so long. I had resisted because I knew she'd only use it against me. Hold a grudge until the day she died. But there it was. She burst into tears. Demanded Paul take her to her hotel. Paul suggested we go sit down, talk this out. No, she screamed. We took her to her hotel. The next day she showed up at my door to drop off my blow dryer she had borrowed. She stood expectantly on my doorstep, waiting for an apology. I gave her none. And she gave me none. Just gave me a hug, stated that she loved me, and moved on. And we've never talked about the divorce since.
When I went away to college, my relationship with my mom (Hilda) changed. I thought at the time that it was for the better. She called me all the time. Not to check on me really. Oh, she asked about me and "worried" and "stressed" about her poor, silly daughter, so far from home. So far from her. (And as a side note, I had somewhat intentionally chosen to go to college as far from her as possible. My releasing had began even if I didn't fully realize it.) But she never really seemed to listen or care about the things I was struggling with. Mainly because it didn't compare to the things she was going through with my sister. Those were REAL problems. This would be, and still is a theme, in my relationship with my sister and mom. Their self-induced drama and problems and chaos were always so much more important than what was going on in my life. How can you complain, Jessie? What do you have to be sad about, Jessie? If you want to know about a real problem, Jessie let me tell you about.... And, yes, the things going on with my sister were bad. She had always been a "spirited" child. But after the divorce, she went crazy. Drugs, running away, rapes, sex with boys, not coming home. On and on. And my mother would call, detailing every bit. She would complain to me and cry. I felt horrible. I felt helpless. There was nothing I could do, especially 400 miles away. My sister and I didn't even talk at this time. We would be estranged and loathe each other for a long time (mainly created by my mother, but that is another post). Hilda would tell me I was like "her personal psychologist". This made me feel important at the time. My mother needed me! After years of ignoring me, she needed me. I can see now, that it was killing me. I was so helpless and these problems were beyond my ability to fix. Not that my mother did anything either to help. She just enabled and enabled. Lamented about why she was so unfortunate to have a daughter like my sister. Years later I would suggest that maybe the divorce or her behavior had something to do with it. My mother cried and became upset, yelled that she was a horrible mother. But what did I want her to do about it. "I can't take back the past! I had to do what was best for me!" She said she was sorry, but I never believed her. I lived with knots in my stomach for years. What should've been a wonderful period of growth and discovery for me, became about her and her problems and her stress. Trips home were awful. And on occasion, she would drop my sister off with me. So she could get away and relax. These occasions terrified me. To be responsible for someone so out of control. To have someone around me who was so volatile and could wreck havoc in the little support system I had created at school. I was terrified my sister would reveal the craziness that was home to my friends.
I met my husband around my junior year. The relationship with my mom started to dissolve. When I wasn't there for her solely, she became upset. We became combative. As I found myself, and with support from my husband (then boyfriend) I began to move out of her control. I was not at her beck and call. I tried to create my own life. She became desperate. She would call and cry and overwhelm me with her constant need for attention. And when she would visit, things would get bad. They always ended in arguments. The fights always started with her being condescending, or rude, or putting me or Paul (hubby) down. She would accuse me of not being there for her in her problems with Erica. I would tell her that it was killing me and she needed to learn on her husband or call my father. My father sent her into rages because she no longer controlled him. She wanted him to parent as she was parenting. To obsess and enable my sister. And then when he didn't, her anger turned to me and she would say "It's not fair that I'm the only one dealing with Erica. I shouldn't have to do this alone. If I have to deal with it, you all should deal with it too. If I have to have this stress in my life, so should you." Why should I? I wanted to scream. I didn't create her messes. I was helpless to fix them. I had my own life. She never tried to shelter me, or protect me. She wanted to drag me down into her hole. Anyway, these arguments would happen and when I would confront her, she would play her trump card. "You're not over the divorce" she would smirk. As if this was my fatal flaw. And I never knew how to respond. Because, yeah, I really wasn't over it. I had never grieved, never mourned, never had any moment to express MY feelings. I was always so busy taking care of everyone else. But that was beside the point. This wasn't about that anger. This was about her being rude and spiteful and selfish. She would spit "you need therapy". Again, this was true. But she acted as if I got "fixed" then all the problems would disappear. We would no longer have conflict. She refused to see that she had ownership in anything. And as these fights layered on each other, my frustration grew. And she would amp things up with each fight. And then one time, she told me she had gotten the divorce for Erica and me. My dad was poor and angry and depressed. And she felt that Hank would be a better father. She blamed ME for it all. I couldn't even fathom how she concluded this. How she spun things to make herself seem the hero, making the selfless sacrifice for her daughters. Never mind that my Dad wasn't as horrible as she made out (he was hard and angry but definitely not some loser father) but I never could have "replaced" him. I loved my Dad. Never mind that SHE benefited the most from this event. Never mind that she repeatedly told me she had done this for her "freedom". When cornered, she turned around and blamed me. I began to harden towards her. And finally, after one argument, where she berated me that I needed to get over things, I needed to let go, I needed to fix myself, I lost it. Hell yeah, I was angry. Hell yeah, I was hurt. "You abandoned me and Erica when we needed you so that you could go and fuck Hank." Silence. I was small and sad and tired in the back of the car. I'd felt like a beaten, caged animal. She had pushed me too far. I instantly felt horrible, guilty. But I also felt a little better. And that made me feel guilty. She had been pushing me to say this for so long. I had resisted because I knew she'd only use it against me. Hold a grudge until the day she died. But there it was. She burst into tears. Demanded Paul take her to her hotel. Paul suggested we go sit down, talk this out. No, she screamed. We took her to her hotel. The next day she showed up at my door to drop off my blow dryer she had borrowed. She stood expectantly on my doorstep, waiting for an apology. I gave her none. And she gave me none. Just gave me a hug, stated that she loved me, and moved on. And we've never talked about the divorce since.
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