Status Update

So, here is a very abbreviated version of what has been going on with the narcs.  I provide this update, so that it'll be easier to write out my next couple of posts.

In-laws = BIL and SIL have been a bit MIA.  They have been circling me wide at almost every event (which has been rare) that we've seen them out.  To my advantage, they've pissed off a few mutual friends, so we've been around them less.  We did see them lately, when SIL stood to he side, waiting for me to approach her to tell her how good she looks (with her skinny new ass and her big new boobs).  BIL skirted around me, but did manage to put DH on the hook (in order to relieve his own embarrassment at he situaion) by asking him what he thought of his wife's "fake" boobs.  Nice, really, nice.

The parents-in-law are coming for the weekend.  The whole weekend.  MIL invited herself (and then booked a hotel room, as no one offered up their house) and announced the whole weekend as a celebration for FIL.  We were initially invited to dinner.  Then, hints came in suggesting other activities.  It irritates me to no end that MIL makes these proclamations and then "suggests" we entertain and give up our weekend for them.  No thoughts or consideration to anyone else's plans.  And she is so damn good at covertly hinting at things to DH that he feels obligated to spend time with them.  It's a hard line, because I really have seen very little of them lately and DH wants to see his father, but on the other hand, I feel like then I'm encouraging MIL's bad behavior.  I'm anxious.  Very anxious.  But I'm remembering to breathe and that helps.  I've got lines prepared and some strategies at the ready.  Cross your fingers for me.

NM has been quiet.  She has not called me in almost a year.  I didn't ask her too.  I did tell her that conversations on the phone, for extended periods were hard due to always having children underfoot.  She must have taken that as a hint and stepped off.  I'm sure I'll pay for it come accounting day.  But for right now, it works for me.  She texts and emails a lot (every couple of days) and when it doesn't cost me too much, I reply.  If she baits or goads or hints, I just don't respond.  It has been working well.  But I'm suspicious.  Very suspicious.  She did pull a very mild stunt, to get at DH, but it was so small I ignored it.  Luckily, NM doesn't scare me.

I flew my family and I down to see my father a bit back.  It was a last minute deal, which luckily minimized the regret I first felt.  I had just gotten away from a visit from NM, and then had to deal with my father.  I stressed endlessly.  I do have a post in mind to detail some of the tactics I used to get through it all, but I'll save that for later.  For right now, I'll say the visit actually went very well.  I felt good leaving the visit (there were even other family visits mentioned, which I'll talk about below).  Step mother and I actually had a really good visit.  She was well-behaved and even offered me some moral support about my sister.  I've down graded her from narc to just an extremely overbearing, controlling, somewhat black and white, very opinionated, and a bit self-righteous person.  But she has a heart.  I saw it.  It's in there.  My father, is also a control freak, angry, self centered person who can be very irritable, but he is not a narcissist either.  And the visit really did go well ;).  Dad behaved himself really well and even managed a lot of self regulation.  He was kind and good to my children.  I actually got to see grandparents who are not trying to just get supply in return from the grand kids.  The distinction is subtle, but it's there.  There was an ease to it that I never feel with NM or NMIL.  I always have to have my ear to the ground with them.  There may be a post in this too; the differences in grand parenting.  But I felt good leaving the visit.  I held my ground, I was grown up, I didn't slip (too much) into feeling like a bullied child.  We had fun, the kids had fun, I survived airport security and two flights with two toddlers!

During the visit, I had a visit with my uncle and his wife.  It was wonderful and I felt like I belonged.  Like a little peace was place back in my heart.  This didn't last long.  We had all talked about a family reunion.  I offered to start an email chain to talk about it.  This didn't sit well with family members who felt a reunion had already been planned...yet they hadn't TOLD anyone about it.  Long story short, one extended family member, whom I've only met once, ripped me a new one for being ungrateful and in the wrong, although she never mentioned me.  Several relatives called me or my dad to discuss how horribly this family member had spoken.  But no one said anything.  No one.  The just let it die.  And so, I guess some reunion is planned, but no one will talk about it and lots of family members were given no voice in it.  One of my aunts kind of talked out of both sides of her mouth, and as the get together is at her house (and her DIL is the one that got on me)I don't think I'll go.  The damn thing was going to be complicated to attend as it was, and then when it all fell apart, I just gave up.

This reunion was the second time NSIS turned up the heat on me.  She sent me a quick line suggesting that this other woman was a peach.  I replied, "yes, she is."

My sister and I haven't spoken on the phone since 2 days after my younger son's first birthday.  At that time, she called, complained for over an hour about her boyfriend (and her subsequent fears of commitment due to our horrid childhood), and never ONCE mentioned my son, his birthday, or anything else that might be going on in my life.  I let it go, as I usually do, because I was actually surprised that she was exploring how her past was effecting her future.

Several months later, I heard (as readers may recall) from an extended family member that my sister (very young sister) had cancer.  Lots of drama ensued.  I fielded lots of calls from hysterical NM and my upset father.  NSis had announced, late at night, that she had cancer and then quickly took it down.  She did not call me or my father and had not mentioned it once to NM, who had visited just weeks earlier.  There was a lot of confusion.  I refused to call my sister, as I felt that she needed to call me.  I wasn't trying to be a brat.  I wanted to respect her privacy, allow her the time to reach out to me, or just plain give her breathing room (which I surmised is what I would have done with any other grown up who had chosen not to call me.)  I waited for awhile and sent to separate communications telling her I was available if she needed me.  I didn't push or pry.  She replied back vaguely.  I knew that she expected me to hunt her down, pry things out of her, and let her play the victim.  Still to this day, I have no idea if she even had cancer.  But let me say, the circumstances around the event are sketchy at best (I have not spoken to either of my parents about this since November, as I wanted to quit having them be the middle man.  To my knowledge, neither of them really knows the truth either, although they both tried to help and both offered to visit.  She declined all offers of help except money.).  At the same time, NSis was going through significant problems with her boyfriend (violent issues) that were resulting in her possibly being evicted.   From what I saw, these issues with NSis's boyfriend seemed to be at the fore front of NSis's priorities.

Around late fall, NM called me, again hysterical, claiming Nsis was having surgery.  While NSis did appear to have some sort of medical procedure, the procedure NM called me about was not it.  NSis, in the midst of this NSis called me (While ignoring NM's calls.  My parents had become increasingly frustrated that NSis often was difficult to get a hold of, wouldn't return phone calls, and was clear with information.  She had also called my father several times in a screaming, hysterical fit of anger.  One time, out of concern for her safety, he had called the cops.  Oh, and also during this time my grandmother had a heart attack.  NSis was in such a rage at one point that she didn't even hear my father tell her this, but continued to scream like a banshee at him for all the wrong he'd done.  Then, NSis tried to play the "good girl" game and "reach out" to my grandmother.  She also had texted me at this time -in the middle of the night, the same night my father had told her the information - that grandmother had gone to the hospital.  Of course, I already knew this information and it annoyed me that she would text it to me, especially at 3 a.m.).  When NSis called, I was actually attempting to call my husband.  I accidentally picked up her line and immediately hung up.  When she called again and again, I was trying to call husband at the same time, and I believe I hung up on her twice again.  I was frantic to speak to DH first and calm myself down before I talked to her (she induces HUGE anxiety in me.  She is mean and volatile and screams at me.)  I finally answered, and what do you know, she laid into me.  Raged against me for not being there, ignoring her, blah, blah, blah.  I'll admit, she got to me.  I tried to rationalize.  I told her, calmly, that I would not allow her to verbally abuse me like she had my father. This ENRAGED her to a point, that I couldn't deal with it.  I told her to fuck off and hung up. (She later claimed I told her to fuck off and die.  Funny how narcs can add or delete words to amp things up.)

She continued to try to reach me.  I informed her that I would be contacting her through email only.  I told her that I would email her when I could to explain my feelings.  She harassed me with texts all through Thanksgiving.  Telling me she missed her sister.  Blah, blah.  Give the kids a hug for me.  Blah, blah.

I did send her an email.  A thoughtful, calm email in which I stated some basic things that had led to me moving away from her (I avoided details, as I felt that it would just bog us down in that, which wasn't the point.  It was the patterns of her behavior which I needed to address).   She replied that she was stunned.  She laid into me with blame, shame, and anger.  Told me how horrible I was for not supporting her medical bullshit.  How dare I criticize her, she wanted to know, when she was struggling so hard.  She told me that she would get back to me more when she could wrap her head around the craziness that I had emailed her.  (For what it's worth, I had two fellow bloggers read and edit this email and help me create it in a way that was as calm, collected, and adult as I could.  I tried very hard to eliminate any accusations and just clearly establish boundaries.)

For months, my sister chose to not follow up with her thoughts she had promised.  She sent a quick reply text to one I sent for her birthday.  There may have been a quick text at Christmas.  I don't remember now.

Shortly after NM visited in February, I received the email she'd promised.  This email was coincidentally timed after my mother's visit, when I am certain that NM relayed the news that my family would be visiting my father.  This email too was wretched, really.  Again full of gas lighting, crazy making, shaming, projections.  She played the victim and the martyr too.  If I wasn't worried about being found out, I'd publish her emails in entirety  as they are such text book examples of narcissistic communication.  Alas, you'll just have to take my word for it (there are a few other of my blogger friends who have also weighed in on these emails and have come to the same conclusions as me about them.)  At the bottom of the message, NSis got to her real point.  She ordered me to at least "respect" her enough to not discuss our issues with mom and dad and make them go betweens.  This part is so laughable but so clearly outlines her fucked up thinking.  I had not discussed NSis with my parents since November and I had, in fact, clearly told my parents that I would no longer be discussing NSis or accepting any information about her.  If NSis wanted to reach me, she could.  NSis's accusations that I had been discussing her behind her back was pure projection and an attempt to control triangulation for her own uses.

I replied that I would be responding to this email, but later.  She replied, "thanks. I appreciate that." or something similar.  Two minutes later, she sent another email asking if I liked a piece of furniture she wanted to buy.  WTF?  Last I'd heard, she was broke.  And beyond that, how the hell did we get back to playing pretend and offering up sisterly advice on furniture?  I supposed that since she had gotten all of her feelings out and raged against me, she felt better and it was over for her.  She got "back" at me for not supporting her and then moved on.

The trip with Dad went well, as described above, and we actually never mentioned NSis. I did talk to step mom one night, not really discussing NSis, but telling step mom how hard it's really been for me and that I hoped my father could understand that I am trying to protect myself (he has always stated I owe NSis nothing and am not responsible for her.)  Step mother was kind and supportive.  During this trip, the family reunion came up.

First, NSis sent the "peachy" remark.  Then, NM stepped in as a flying monkey, describing how sad NSis was that she couldn't go to the reunion, as she didn't have a ride.  The stench of obligation was all over the email.  I could guess what she was hinting at.  I ignored this email.  NSis brought up on the family email chain that she didn't have a ride either.  I ignored this too.

Last week, NSis sent me a text saying she'd sent my kids a package and to let her know when it gets there.  Strange....(not really).  She hasn't sent (or even acknowledged) my kids on their last two birthdays for one and one birthday for the other or on Christmas.  One Christmas she told me that she was too broke for gifts for the kids, but then spent hours on the phone agonizing over what to buy her boyfriend.  And it's not about the gifts, but the total lack of thought for them.  So, the "gifts" arrive.  This reeks of lame attempts to get me back into the fold.  And I'm angry that she thinks sending a package will somehow make me forget that she's treated me like dirt, very recently.   I text her back saying we received it, the kids enjoyed it, and thank you.

Two days later (the email was sent in the middle of the night, I suspect she'd been drinking), I received an email demanding all of the family photos be sent to her.  That I was keeping her "childhood" from her.  That I had no right to keep them and that NM had given them to me expecting me to "do right" by them.  Um, OK. NM did give me the family photos, as she was sick of storing reminders of her ex-husband and I am the responsible one.  NSis has destroyed or lost many family memories before this.  And besides, I had never suggested that I wouldn't give her her share.  Again, this was a clear manipulation tactic.  And I bit.  I'd been trying to figure out a way to communicate to her a response to her email, and this was a clear opportunity.

I wrote back an email, clearly stating my boundaries again.  I pointed out her manipulations and gas lighting and stated I wouldn't be falling for her accusations and guilt trips.  I explained that, despite her insistence that I was being sneaky and "hiding" from her and being passive, that I was merely taking my time to sort through things.  And that this time had allowed me to see that, no, things still haven't changed.

NSis wrote back a scathing email, degrading me and verbally abusing me.  She told me what a piece of shit I was and how disappointed she was with me due to what I've "become".  I didn't get this email until a lengthy texting chain which started with her calling me a "nasty bitch".  I was able to ignore the first few texts and phone calls.  Then she told me I was ridiculous and demanded I call her that day.  I took this as an opportunity to tell her that I actually do have other things going on in my life (I actually was really busy, but that shouldn't matter) and I don't need to drop everything in order to allow her time to scream at me and call me names.  She told me that she wouldn't call me names.  Um, you just texted me that I'm a nasty bitch. Between the email and the texts, she called me abusive, told me I was scum for reducing her beautiful gestures of amends to fake crap, told me I'd turned into a horrible person, accused me of triangulation (I told her I'd give the pictures back to my mother.  I mean, it's a HUGE box full of photo albums.  I'm not really going to send that shit), told me I was horrible for ranking her "out" of the family and pushing her out of the family.  Somewhere in there, she accused ME of withholding the children she never makes an effort to communicate with.  She told me I've turned into a horrible person and she's disappointed and saddened by it.  My friend Kara summed it up by saying she threw every narc trick at me but the kitchen sink.  As Jonsi said, it was "textbook" narc.    NSis finished up with a text saying that her only intent was to have a friendly call and "catch up" about "good and positive" things.  Was she deluded?  SHE started the communication chain by accusing me, basically, of stealing the family photos out from under her.  She called me nasty names, verbally abused me, harassed me, refused to stop when I told her I was done, and blamed it all on me and my defective personality.  What amazed me was her ability to shift tactics with in minutes.  It was like talking to Sybil.  One minute she was kind and nice and wanting to make amends, the next she's raging at me and telling me I'm worthless (she even threatened during one early email to not have a relationship with me.)I do wonder if there are other factors (bipolar or borderline) that play into her behavior, but regardless, she is dangerous to me.

So, that in a nut shell has been my life since Christmas.  I'm exhausted.  And tired.  And the thing is, I'm disheartened to know that it is never going to stop.  Even if I go NC with NSis, she will never let me go.  She'll always be there, waiting, to jump on any opportunity to get me.  I hate that, even with NC, ACoNs are left looking over their shoulder, waiting for the boogie man to jump out of the shadows.  That, even with boundaries, we jump at a phone ringing or get sinking feelings (instead of happy ones) when an unexpected package shows up.  I'm tired of the fact that every damn birthday or holiday or anything wonderful has to be mired with drama and crap.  Even if I've stayed out of the fray or walled me and my FOC off, they are still there, on the other side of the fence, waiting to engulf us at all times.  I'm tired of mending fences and using my sheer will to hold them up, only to have MIL barge through them again.  Any crack in the wall, is an invitation to engulf us again.  I'm pissed off that I've had to make decisions about my future based on what I can deal with from these people.   Or that we've had to bow out of things we loved, because the narcs took over.  This shit SUCKS.

I will say, on a positive note, that even as tired as a I am, I'm stronger.  And better.  They may be wearing me out, but I'm holding my own.  I'm not in a ball on the floor in tears.  I'm not wandering around like a zombie, unable to participate in life.  I'm not beating myself up at every opportunity.  I'm not perfect, I still have a lot to learn and do, but it's getting better.

Family

When I was little, family was the most important thing to me.  I was aware of my feelings in a way I doubt other kids think about their family.  I remember always wanting to be with my family.  I passed up on social events to stay home and hang out with my family.  I am allergic to animals, so I actually couldn't go to other people's houses as much, which just compounded the problem.  But I didn't mind.  I LOVED spending time with my family.  I loved my mother.  I idolized her.  I have a book I wrote about her, in which I embellished a small act on her part into her "saving my life" (I remember that's how she had conveyed the seriousness of the event at the time).  I wrote poems about her, poems about my family, homework assignments spotlighted my family.

I loved family get-togethers.  We frequently got together with my father's family and I loved it.  The cousins, my grandma, the aunts and uncles.  I loved being around different people.  We rarely got together with my mother's family, at least not all together.  But we saw them.  My parents had a couple of friends we saw.  I loved that too.

My little sister was my constant companion.  She went every where with me (except the times she went with her friends).  I watched her on every holiday and summer break.  We were in the same classes (mom putting me in the younger age group, so we would be together.  Always even.  Also, it helped NM not have to run around to double the activities).  My sister always expected to share my friends (and later boyfriends).  We were close.  She was violent.  I was afraid of her and her temper.  But we were "close".

But none of us was really close.  Not really.  I can look back and see how we all kind of just floated together.  Like boats, tethered together on the sea.  Bouncing into each other and near each other, but not really connecting.  We did lots of things together.  But I don't remember a lot of glowing memories.  I don't remember feeling that was of love.  NM and NSis were close, completely enmeshed.  And on occasion, they would let me hang out too.  Lots of times I was relegated to dad.  Working in the garage.  I spent a lot of time alone.  I read books, I played in my room.   I remember pulling together for my sister's homework as a team, but I don't remember anyone really being excited by anything I did.  I was just there, a constant.  I remember being asked a lot to accommodate my sister so she didn't tantrum.  She got her way a lot.  NM recently told me that sister had told her she was a big softie with us.  NM loved that she was referred to this way.  She liked being the nice parent (she used my dad as an enforcer).  NM was a softie, with my sister (and for what it's worth, the soft treatment wasn't preferential and most likely fucked my sister up completely.).  I was NM's assistant, her helper, her little me.

But I felt almost a desperate desire to be around them.  When the divorce hit, I was stunned.  I was 14 (ish, I really struggle to remember the exact order of things and dates.  It's all a blur).  I remember feeling like my family had exploded.  Like it had died.  We all seemed to be blown in different directions.

I was devastated.  I struggled so much with the complete dissolution of my family.  Everyone (except me) went crazy for a time; some longer than others.  I tried so desperately to hang onto the pieces.  To hold it together.  I remember feeling very alone.  Forgotten, abandoned.

Through my twenties, I did everything I could to improve the relationships with my family that were so rapidly deteriorating.  Every interaction with my sister and mother ended badly.  Fights, arguments  lots of tears.  I racked my brain about how to fix it.  My dad has always been distant, and continued to be (My father, not a narcissist, but a very self-centered person, recently asked me why I wasn't eating the eggs he'd made for breakfast.  I informed him, as I have on every visit in the last few years - around 5- that I have hated eggs since I was 2.  I've never eaten eggs.  Anyone close to me knows this.  He doesn't know it.)

I hosted my family.  I bought thoughtful gifts.  I supported my sister through every drunk, tearful, 3 a.m. phone call, and the various sob fests in between.  I watched her repeatedly create such horrific havoc in her own life - and consequently that of her "family."  Then, she would demand support, endless hours to vent or unleash, long tirades about how unfair it all was.  But no change, no attempts to grow up and make things better.

I had glimmers things would get better.  Moments that I thought things were getting better.  Break throughs.  And falls back wards.  Lots and lots of slips backwards.

I find it ironic.  Ironic that it is me that they accuse of not being there for my "family".  Of not living up to my obligation.  It's ironic that they accuse me of being "cold", and "calloused", and completely uninterested in family.

It's the same way with my in-laws now.  When I started out with them, I wanted so much to fit in.  To be a part of a big, "loving", family.  But twists and turns, and I've somehow come to be the enemy to them now too.  I'm the one out to destroy the family.  I'm the one on the outside.

I just don't get it.   Can't people realize that if I hadn't been about to kill myself, I would never have had to step away from my "family"?  That someone like me, who idolizes and worships her family, would never run for the hills screaming, if it hadn't gone very, very wrong?  That I'm not interested in being right, or having my way, or controlling the family.  That it isn't about some petty disagreement.  That this is about someone finally having to step away from family before it killed me or sucked me down with it into crazy town.

NM's Reward for her Long Suffering

Reading through the blogs, so many repressed memories have come back, slamming me in the face.  So many things that I've just set aside and moved past.  Buried way back inside my head and heart.  But a few days ago, I read lifesizevision's post about discovering his mother's affair, and so many things came back to me.

I really hadn't thought about my mother's affair in a long time.  It had been so totally eclipsed by so many other hurts, abuses, and layers of pain, that it had faded into the background.  In reading lifesizevision's post I  was reminded about how much it had hurt me at the time.  How betrayed I felt.  And I struggled with why I had dismissed this offense and now, hardly even thought about it.

Mom and I had gone to pick up my little sister from a school function.  It was dark, the rain poured down, and my sister was expected at any minute.  And mom dropped the bomb shell.  The next day, my dad would be looking for an apartment.  He'd be moving out.  They were divorcing.  She didn't even have the decency to tell me this face to face, in a place I could process it.  She ambushed me, knowing NSis would be arriving shortly.  Knowing that I'd never let on, as I wouldn't want to upset her.  She offered no explanation, no excuses, no reasons.  Offered me no comfort.

I remember being devasted and scared and confused.  I sat in my room for a long time, probably a month.  I took my Dad's old T.V. from his room.  I came out of my room only to shower and eat dinner.  I remember my Dad checking on me once.  I remember, that for the most part, they left me alone.  No one came for me. I remember Dad falling apart.  My stoic, unemotional, detached dad came apart at the seams.  This terrified me.  But where was my mother?  Absent, gone....

I don't remember how I found out about the affair.  I have some vague recollection that it was my father who told me.  It's shocking to me how much I've blocked out.  Like some war veteran who only has flashbacks.   He was a man my mother worked with.  It had been going on a long time.  There were lots of secrets.  My mother wouldn't answer any questions about what had happened.  We were "children" and didn't need to know what went on, too young to be exposed to that.  Ha.  The irony must have been lost on her that we "children" had already been exposed to it and that she had expected us to grow up and deal with it like adults as we took care of ourselves because she was out cavorting around.

My sister read my dad's journal at some point and told me much later that mom had gone back and forth between this new man and my dad.  Played them against each other.  I always wondered what she had told the new man (now EStep-father, ESF).  I believe she lied and told him it was all over.  When his own daughter had an affair, and married the "new man", ESF disliked this new man greatly.  I wondered how he reconciled that with his own behavior, or how much mom had lied to him to convince him he wasn't that man.

It was another surprise attack when mom introduced us to her new man.  She often left us on the weekends to go be with him and his family.  She never took us along, because it was too early.  So she left us, two broken, damaged teenagers to our own devices for the whole weekend.  She never thought about how much this would hurt us.  How abandoned we felt.  How it was clear she was choosing this "new family" over her own.  She was having a grand old time while we drowned in the mess she left.  I played mom to my little sister.  I fed her, watched her, got her out of trouble.  And my sister was a trainwreck at 14.  Drinking, sneaking out of the house, sleeping with boys, throwing parties at my house.  Problems that would be difficult for an adult to deal with.  But they were my problems now.

So, one day mom pranced into the TV room with new man and new man's kids.  They'd had a delightful weekend.  She gave us no warning.  We were laying around when they walked in.  I remember feeling embarrassed that she had introduced us while we were just relaxing.  She acted like a teenage girl with a crush.  All giddy and smiley and happy.  And she expected us to be too.

We had many arguments about new man.  She argued that I was a selfish, horrible brat.  That I had no right to be angry with him or not like him.  That I OWED HER to be nice to him, accept him as my family, be respectful.  I was not allowed to be angry, or hurt, or upset.  I wan't allowed to have any feelings about the situation that weren't positive.  She reasoned that she had put up with years of abuse from my father and that it was her turn to be happy now.  She had found her "soul mate".  She was finally happy and putting herself first.  And how dare I suggest that she didn't deserve this.  How dare I try to deny her this happiness.  She railed against me for my betrayal of her by not being happy about it.  I see the absurdity now.  She had destroyed my family, betrayed me, my father, and my sister, forced a new man into my life, and I was expected to be HAPPY ABOUT THE WHOLE FUCKING THING.  She never once admitted any wrong doing.  She never once apologized.  What did she have to be sorry about, she reasoned?  She'd done nothing wrong except finally put herself first.  She couldn't even separate out that while her commitment to my father and her betrayal of that was enough, that she had also made a commitment to us, as her kids.  That by abandoning us when we needed her most, selling us out for her new found happiness, abandoning all of her responsibilities as a mother was even more of a betrayal.

When she married the new man, we also were expected to smile, be happy, not rain on her parade.  How dare we have any negative emotions.  This is what made her happy.  She even bullied us into singing her and new husband's wedding song.  It made my stomach hurt.  Torture.  Abuse.  Horrific memories.  She and new hubby had a secret number that they used to use to sign all of their cards.  Some secret code number.  I know, even though she refused to tell me what it signified, that this was the hotel number of the room they would meet up in.  For years, they signed all of their cards with that number.  For years, she would get us rooms at this hotel when we stayed in town.  And I remember vividly how prominently it was displayed on her wedding cake.  I remember thinking at the time how stupid she must've thought me to be.  I remember thinking what a HUGE SLAP IN THE FACE it was.  How I choked on that damn cake.  How I wish now that she had choked on that damn cake.   What a horrible wretch of a person.  Who does that to her kids?  Who betrays them and then demands that they be happy about it?  Accuses them of disloyalty and feigns hurt if the kids dare to have some negative emotions about it?  Who places the blame on her kids for not doing everything they can to make her new marriage and family work out?  Who denies their kids any right to their feelings or reactions?  My fucked up mother, that's who.

Years later, as we continued to fight about it all, she would claim she did it all for me.  She would through it in my face that I was just angry about the divorce if I even disagreed with her.  Like it was some flaw on my part.  And yes, I was angry about it all still.  I'd never been allowed to process any of it.  Never been to therapy (mom would never have taken ME to therapy, what was there to need therapy about, this was a GOOD thing).  The fallout from this one event still rained down around me.  I was being forced to go back to the "way things were", not that they were that way to begin with.  She had no idea how badly she had betrayed my trust, destroyed any notions of what I thought our relationship was, destroyed our relationship period.  She just expected me to move on and get on with things.  And so, if I dared get angry with her, I could have no valid reason, other than the divorce, which I actually had no valid reason to be angry about either.  And then, in one fight, she blamed it on me.  My dad was a horrible man, she claimed.  Angry, no job at the time (he'd been laid off and was going back to college, and was working).  She wanted a "better" life for me and my sister.  New hubby would offer security (monetary).  I was in shock to think that she thought she could just trade out one man for a new man as my father like it was a new pair of shoes.  That she thought I could just disconnect and except the substitute and move on.  That, when backed into a corner, she'd somehow placed all the blame on me.

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.

Choosing An Identity

This topic had been on my "list of things to write about" for awhile now, but this morning I saw something on Jonsi's blog about why she choose her name and I felt compelled to do the Post now.  Thanks Jonsi for the inspiration!
Choosing my "pen name"  for this Blog was surprisingly emotional for me.  It took me days.  I struggled with the courage to even do it.  It was like the first step in this process and it scared the crap out of me.  I can remember shaking as I punched things into Google, looking for the right name.  I somehow knew that once I made that choice I would be committed.  Something in me would be reborn.  I can only imagine how many other people would find this truely ridiculous.  But for me, it was about finding my identity.

I wanted a name that describe what I was trying to accomplish.  When I came across the name Sheridan, I found that it meant "seeker".  I had been seeking the truth, seeking me, seeking a way out of this hell hole, so this seemed perfect.  (Side note, as I google it today, I find it means "life long treasure".  Hmm. Interesting).  Jesse (I changed it to the -ie) meant gift, offering to God, and one who is.  Perfect.  This blog was my prayer to God, my offering for change, and my attempt to just be.  I liked how the two names sounded together, as it implied a bit of the location that I'm in (my identity does have lots of influence from where I'm from).  I also liked that it sounded a bit like an outlaw.  Some gunslinger from the West.  I felt like an outlaw.  But one of those who steals from the rich and gives to the poor.

And just a random thought on the issue of names.  I spent a lot of time finding the perfect names for my sons.  I wanted them to have names with limitless possibilites.  It was important to me that they have names which grounded them in a sense of family, provided them a foundation (we gave them each a family members name whom we loved), but also a name that would allow them to be whomever they chose to be.  A name that sounded good on a toddler but wouldn't embarrass a grown man.  A name that could be for a lawyer or an artist.  A name unique enough to not be "one of the herd" but not so crazy that they stood out like a freak.  Of course, NM suggested variants of her name if the babies had been girls.  I thought, how weird.  I NEVER would've suggested or implied that someone name a baby after me.  Besides the obvious that I didn't like her name, nor did she deserve this honor, but that she would even have the arrogance to suggest it blew me away.  NMIL had the middle name of my first born son all picked out already.  It was a "tradition" and it never occured to her that we wouldn't use it.  I remember her telling us that she had paperwork for us to give the baby on why we gave it this "tradtional" name.  I remember being blown away that she would just make this assumption.  This story is such a hallmark of my NMIL.  Most of the time, it NEVER OCCURS to her that someone would have other ideas, thoughts, or opinions.  I think having so many sons, she just herded them around and they followed her like mindless robots.  She just the expectation that everyone will fall in line.  Maybe that's why she's not more underhanded.  She's never really had to use such tactics to keep the troops in line.  They've been so brainwashed, they do it naturally.  Until now.

Anyway, sorry for my rambling.  I tend to get off track.  But back to the thoughts on identity.  I don't remember my parents allowing me hardly any opportunity to develop one as a kid.  Maybe not that they didn't allow it, but they certainly didn't encourage it.    Like NMIL, I don't think it occurred to them to cultivate my own personal sense of identity.  I just was to be what they had been.  This was how it was, how it'd always been, and how it would always be.  Little clones producing more little clones.  It's not that they stifled my "other" interests.  They just didn't acknowledge them.  They went through the motions, but never encouraged them.  They didn't really pay any attention to them at all, beside the obligatory parental requirements.

My family did have labels for me.  I was "smart".  I was thinking the other day that this was one of the positive things I took from my childhood.  At least I knew I was smart.  I had the achievement tests to prove it.  But as I really thought about how my parents viewed my intelligence, it was never as a credit to my character.  First and foremost, my intelligence shackled me to expectations of perfection.  I was not allowed to get anything but As.  I was better than that.  I didn't matter that I really did struggle in some subjects.  I was too intelligent for that (and not that they helped me, or asked about school, or knew what in the hell I was doing beyond the end result).  I could bring home straight As forever, but man, that one B...well, that would be the end of the world.  Dad also used to say that I was book smart, but naive.  "Some of the people who are the smartest with books, are the dumbest in the real world."  While this may be true, he always used it to take me down a peg.  My mother was jealous of my intelligence.  She still is.  My intelligence was a direct insult to her.  As if I did it to her on purpose.  She liked to throw it in my face that I somehow had something she didn't and I should feel sorry for her for it.  Still to this day, she likes to "correct" me (although she's usually wrong) and when backed into a corner, she'll pull the whole "you're calling me stupid" card out. I don't remember ever being told I was pretty.  I did get compliments for my outfits (usually one that NM picked out or if my hair looked nice.  But I always got the distinct impression that I was not the pretty sister. Good behavior, good grades, basically anything beyond perfection were critized and judged.  However, when I attained these goals, they were treated as if I'd just done what any kid would be expected to do.  My opinion was rarely asked, by parents never knew what I thought, and I get the distinct impression that I annoyed them more than anything.

Today, I'm often labeled my family as controlling, anxious, oversensitive (I got this ALL the time as a kid too.  I was not allowed to be upset about anything), inflexiable, anal, a worry wort, and compulsive.  They see me as an organizational freak who must control everything and won't allow any dissension (projecting much?).  I am the "bad" family member.  They one who isn't there enough, doesn't call enough, doesn't do enough.  The laughable part is that I AM that family member.  I always call, check in, send cards, remember birthdays, acknowledge accomplishments, put thought into gifts, send thank you cards.  I get the distinct feeling that with them, I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't.  My dad likes to see my efforts at being a good hostess (providing dinner at a good time, showing were things are, providing entertainment) as controlling.  I'm anal if I announce that we should head to dinner by a particular time.  I'm anal because I planned the friggin meals (someone has to buy all the groceries for 10 people, so yeah, I had to plan it.)  Here I think I'm being thoughtful and making things easy, but no, I'm anal and a control freak.  Any advice that I won't take is because I'm a control freak.  NM's husband loves to point out that he thinks I'm a compulsively anal control freak.  If I state that my son likes something a certain way, he'll say "I wonder who he gets THAT from".

My in-laws also have labels for me.  I'm rigid, inflexible, organized (this is one they actually admire, except when it puts them at a disadvantage or makes them feel jealous), stuck-up, snobby, and just plain odd.  They have no idea who the real me is, other than what they've decided me to be.  They very rarely ask my opinion, unless they already know it will be similar to theirs.  They fully ignore any topics in which I'd have a differing thought.  In the early days, anything I brought up about myself was turned back to them.  I'd tell NMIL that I had danced as a kid.  "OH, you did.  Well (DH) won a dance contest once!"  And then on and on about the dance contest...once...that she didn't even go to.  And for the record, husband is a good dancer, but not a dance contest winner.  I used to write and was in speech, well hubby was a speaker at a state contest.  I used to think she was just trying to connect.  Now, I think she had to one-up me.  The things she does take an interest in, she covets.  I like to wrap Christmas gifts.  I like to take a glass of wine, watch a Christmas movie, and layer ribbons, wrapping, etc.  I find it relaxing (I'm fully aware most people don't).  Kind of like arts and crafts.  NMIL's packages always looked like they'd been through the garbage disposal.  But what do you know, now she spends all this time on her gifts.  They still look like they've been through the garbage disposal, but it looks like she did it on purpose.  Anything that I do well, she has to do to.  If I have a nice pair of earrings, she exclaims that she wants them too.  She's always asking where I bought stuff.  I know, imitation is the greatest form of flattery.  Except when you feel like someone's trying to steal any sense of identity away.  And if she can't compete directly, she just figures out a way to minimize what  I do.  She can't ever just thank me for the damn Christmas card.  She has to comment on how she simply just didn't have time (the woman who is retired, has no kids at home, no hobbies, didn't have time.)  My favorite was when she heard through friends that I make a good lasagna.  So, I made it for her once.  I thought I was being NICE.  Her comment: "Well, you make a good lasagna...BUT I MAKE REALLY GOOD SPAGHETTI".  WTF is that?  I'm still trying to explain to husband why this comment irritated me so bad, and continues to irritate me.  Needless to say, I haven't cooked for her since.
But I think the worse for me with the in-laws (and my family in general) that they don't know me at all.  With the in-laws I feel like a bunch of "tags" (I think Jonsi referred to it this way).  Mom of their grandkids, wife of their son.  I'm a label.  I fill the slot (not that I fill it well, and in fact, I often feel like the round peg in the square hole).  Anything that they don't like about me, they simply ignore.  I'm a 2-dimensional character that they don't give a crap to really know.  I am not appreciated, loved, or accepted for me.  My family doesn't know who the hell I am.  Again, labels, projections, images in their head, is all I am.  I can't be me, I can't share me, because they'll use it against me.  Use it to hurt me.  Use it to further their own little agendas.

So, I'm searching.  Who the fuck am I?  What is my identity?  What can I live with in myself?  It's weird to be 30-something and finally trying to decide what I am.  To quit being the labels and just be human.

Horrible Days and Being a Good Parent

It has been a tough few days for me.  I am feeling so overwhelmed, anxious, lonely and sad.  I am angry and don't know how to direct my anger.  I know that my little hiatus from my in-laws and NM is shortly coming to an end.  I don't feel strong enough to deal with them.  I really just want to sleep, and stare at the sunset with a glass of wine, and hide away.
But I can't, because I'm a mom.  It's been a rough couple days with my kiddos too.  They've been sick, not slept well, and have been cranky.  My youngest is teething.  My oldest is testing all my limits at an attempt at independence.  All of these things would be difficult for the most healthy of parents.
But as an ACON, I struggle with parenting.  I struggle to find that balance.  I don't even really know what 'good parenting' looks like.  Where to draw the boundaries between myself and my kids.  I have good 'parenting strategies'.  I've read lots of books.  I've been a teacher.  But on the days that I'm just at my limit, I struggle.  I struggle with the choices I make (or don't make).  I struggle with the line between being an involved parent and protecting them too much.  I struggle with finding the time for myself and not feeling like I'm abandoning them and making it all about me.  My 3 year old is really struggling with respect.  He has been pushing every button: name calling, spitting, hitting, tantrums, defiance.  I struggle to teach him respect for me and for our home.  How do I do this without demanding it "because I'm his mom"?  Even explaining the concept of respect is hard.  I don't want him to do things because I tell him to...but sometimes (like not running in the parking lot) he does need to follow my instructions immediately.  He's really been pushing and doing things that are dangerous.  And in the moment, it's hard to not just yell "because I said so" when I'm terrified for him (or the cat, or his brother).  I want him to respect me as the parent in this home, but I don't want to crush his spirit and be some dictator.  But I do need to be in charge.  It's all just so confusing and gut wrenching and tear producing.  It's all so extremely difficult.

Blood is Thicker Than Water- Repost

I read this on Jonsi's blog "Open your eyes and see", who reposted it from Upsi's "You don't have to dance for them" and it is too powerful not to repost.  I hope they don't mind terribly.  What wonderful insight (and brilliance in research) on Upsi's part.  I never would've thought twice about this.

I've been researching the origins of the expression "blood is thicker than water" and it turns out it means exactly the opposite of what people use it for. People use it to mean family ties are the most important, but really the saying comes from the idea of a blood covenant - "blood of the covenant is thicker than water of the womb" - in other words, the bonds we make in faith are stronger than those of family.

The bonds we forge in choice, with all our hearts and all our faith, with those we make a promise to stand by and honor, are thicker than the water we're born in - stronger than the bonds with the family we're born into. Because we choose to make those covenants. What we choose for ourselves is stronger than what is chosen for us.