This picture below is what I have to do to get my mother, THE DIABETIC, to stop drinking sugar soda. She refuses to drink diet soda, because she says it all tastes like "prune juice" (and prunes are good, so what she is talking about?). But, and here is the funny part, she cannot taste most things or smell them. So, um, what is she even talking about? It's a mind over matter thing. It's all in her head. So I bought her her favorite soda, which is A&W, and got "zero sugar" instead of regular diet, which tastes so much better. And we, my kids and I, ripped off all the bottom sections of the bottle labels so she can't see the "zero sugar" label. I am going to tell her that they were sold cheaper since the labels were damaged at the store. HA! And honestly, I do not know how this will go, esp. since my son will probably blab to her that it's diet, but we'll see. Maybe he won't? LOL
If not, I'll drink it, because it's fucking delicious. So it's a win-win, no matter what.
This is the lengths we go to in order to keep my idiot mother safe from her own stupid choices. Sigh.
When you have a parent with NPD and dementia, you honestly can't always tell the difference. I guess it's more of a judgement call, than anything, and it depends on how much it matters or not. Small, stupid non-truths aren't much of a big deal, but they do add up over time (and they get exhausting). But the bigger non-truths need to be dealt with, especially if they are negative things being said to others about you. And how you deal with it depends on the situation. If you are low-contact, you don't need to deal with it at all. If it's something that can affect your life, then you need to deal with it at whatever end it's doing the most damage.
Mostly, I deal with the small, stupid non-truths. I could, and most likely should, say they are caused by dementia. But at the same time, she's always done this. Told little white lies about the past that just aren't true. She thinks her memory is top-notch and has gaslight me into believing her several times, where I am questioning my own memory. But now, after dealing with it head on for the past year and a half, I can clearly see that about 98% (my own estimate) of what comes out of her mouth is an non-truth. Even when she argues until she's blue in the face about it. I used to think her adamancy towards her truth meant she was right. Now I know it's a narcissistic tactic meant to undermine me (or others) into believing whatever crap she's saying.
We recently had a huge sewer line back up into the house and had to have both bathrooms gutted (which they are still are as of this writing). And mother went on and on about how when our basement was flooded when I was a teenager, how the insurance paid to have the entire basement fixed and how they put a new floor in and blah blah blah. And I looked at her and said "No they didn't ma, they didn't fix anything at all. It was my bedroom and I had a concrete floor after that. I had nothing replaced, and nothing was fixed. But you guys still got the insurance money." She said "Oh yeah, that must be because it wasn't a sewage leak." I just shook my head and left it alone, because that sentence made no sense. Getting my floor replaced, or any of my stuff or even getting a new bed (the pipe burst right over my bed and ruining it) had nothing to do with sewage water. It was the fact that my parents took all the money to spend on themselves, and I got nothing. But I wasn't going to say that to her, because there is no reason now to even care about it. But still, she likes to make up complete lies about the past, and remember things that totally didn't happen, all because it sounds good in her mind. And she's done that since I've been a child.
But again, confusion or lies, when it comes to stupid little non-truths like that, what does it matter? I just correct her and move on. Sometimes I don't even correct her, because it doesn't matter (though I do usually, because I have aspergers and I don't really like people speaking non-truths when I know they are wrong). Though I normally do it in a polite way, so I don't spark an argument with her.
Except when she's being stupid and/or bossy.
Like earlier this year, when she was throwing a fit about planting, telling me I wasn't allowing her to plant anywhere in the yard, and I said "You get every single part of the yard in the back and the front, ma. You're being ridiculous. I am the one who's not allowed to plant anything. Last year, you didn't even let me plant my own food plants in the garden. You even got angry with me for planting my lilac bushes last year, because you wanted to plant something where I planted them. You told me that I should have told you that I was planting them, because now you can't plant anything there." And she literally screamed in a rage, while stomping her feet (I am serious, she stomps her feet when she wants to really make you believe in her anger) "I DID NOT!!" And I knew it was true, because it had been less than a year since it happened. And all of a sudden, I realized, when she is adamant about her "truth" she's screaming at you, she's still lying. She's just trying to push you hard enough to make you shut up. But I didn't. And I replied "You did, too, ma. Stop trying to make believe something you can't remember correctly. You're the one with dementia here, not me." Yes. When she's being utterly ridiculous about lying, I do throw that at her. But in a joking way. Even though I actually mean it. I am not trying to be mean in these instances, but I don't run around in my life thinking I am always right. If fact, I am usually the first person in a conversation to back off if someone else thinks they are right. Even if I know I am right. But I am so sick of that. Sick of letting the know-it-alls and narcissists of the world pretend they know everything when they just don't. It makes you feel small, to always be told you're wrong. But so much of the time I am not wrong. And I say nothing. So now I don't back down anymore, if I know I am right about something. It's not about it being important to be right. It's about the fact that's it important to not always back down to others. To show yourself that your words are worth standing up for. Not every single time. But more than never doing it at all. So sometimes, I jokingly remind my mother she has dementia when I need to. She laughs, which lightens the mood in our conversation (but not always). Sometimes she needs to remember that her memory is not always right. And it also helps her not to feel stupid for mixing things up like she does.
She the replied to my comment with some off-the-wall explanation that made zero sense as to why I was wrong, and I just rolled my eyes at her and said "Whatever you say. Even though you're wrong." And I walked away, leaving her to fume by herself.
I didn't have to add in the last part, but I cannot stand having her always believe she's right. I mean, if I didn't live with her, it'd be so much easier to not give two squats. But dealing with her every single day, day in and day out, it really wears on a person's nerves. And so I get my relief by never letting her think I believe her bullshit when she's blatantly wrong. I don't argue with her. I just acknowledge the truth and leave it at that. I don't argue. I just say my peace and either don't answer her or move onto some other topic of conversation. Because it does no good to argue with someone who is wrong.
Which is why I never understood why atheists and Christians ever have debates (like Bill Nye and Ken Hamm). You can't argue against something you don't believe in. Which is why I never do, even though Christians try to goad me into debates all the time (even strangers!). Granted, things that happened that you can remember is a very different subject than non-belief vs. belief. As the first is a usually a truth vs. non-truth (though sometimes we can remember things wrong). And belief isn't really about truth, as much as it's about belief. But still. If both sides think they're right, then move on and let both sides think what they want. There is no use in debating or arguing about it.
Which is how I feel about most conversations with narcissists. What is the use in falling prey to their games? Why let them get you into a debate over something when you can't express yourself because they most likely won't let you? So just walk away. For as much as I say I don't let her get away with lying to me, I normally don't even engage about the rest of it. I just say "Okay, mom. I'll look into that." Or "That sounds cool." Later, she usually forgets she bothered me about something. I do correct her lies, but just in case she's confused due to dementia, I do it nicely, because I honestly can't tell anymore. But more often than lying to me, she's trying to pull me into her drama about something she wants me to do that doesn't make sense to do, and I just say "Okay, that sounds good." Or "I'll look into that later." Like this bathroom thing. I don't know how much repairs will be. And I said if they are too much, I'll do it myself. And now she's having a fit about it. It's not her money. And nothing of hers got broken. So I don't know why she thinks she needs to involve herself in the decision making. But instead of saying that, I say "Oh, we'll see." And "I'll have to see how expensive it will get." And so forth. It's not working too well, but she does keep quiet for a little bit about it.
The entire point of this post is to ask, how do you know if your aging narcissist with dementia is lying or confused? And the answer is that it just doesn't matter. If they are wrong, they are wrong.
I know how hard it is to feel like you're always being lied to. Because we have been lied to, for our entire lives. So I get that feeling of "ARRRRGGHGHHHH! They are lying again!! Will they ever stop???" But there comes a point when you have to learn to say "It's okay if they are lying, because it doesn't matter anymore. I look at them with pity, as an old, feeble, human being who doesn't have much time left. One day, sooner as opposed to later, they will not be here anymore, and I will be left to deal with what they left behind. So right now, I am going to concentrate on the truth, and my mental wellbeing, over caring if they are still lying to me or not. Because by caring if they are lying to me, they win. And I am sick of losing."
Their entire existence is wrapped up in bothering and hurting others. So stop letting them win. And just know you're right and let that be enough and walk away. You will mentally and emotionally be so much better off for it.
Know that I am also reminding myself of this as much as I am telling you this, too. I need to just let it all go, all that negative behavior of hers. I do, for the most part, but sometimes I still get hung up on stuff, due to being triggered from childhood. Something I have been working on lately and doing a lot better at.
I am getting some shadow work and IFS workbooks and the such and I'll be posting some exercises here on the blog, that I hope you join me in doing, as well. Until then.
Today I was watching Patrick Tehan on YouTube, as he's one of my all time favorite YouTubers when it comes to healing from parental narcissism. Here is the video I watched:
9 Recovery Tools For Childhood Trauma - YouTube
And I really liked all of them, but then we get to number 1, and that's to get out. Meaning to get out of the living situation and/or relationship with your abuser. He argues that you cannot heal if you are still being abused.
And that hit me like a ton of bricks, because I still live with my narcissistic mother. Not only do I live with her, she still abuses me, albeit so much less than she did earlier in the year, but even so, she still does it. Not only that, even when she's not abusing me, I find myself reacting to her internally as though she still is, which is not good for my mental health.
And the only way I healed from my father's abuse was because I was finally ready twelve entire years after his death. So, um, am I truly fucked here? Do I need to move in order to start healing?
Here's the issue: I am actively working on my escape plan for my family, which I have been for many months now. Which is something Patrick says to do. But from what I can gather, and I may be wrong here, he seems to be saying that working on healing useless until you are you in a safe place away from your abuser. And I just don't agree with that.
I mean yes, you cannot fully heal while you are still being abused because you need to process your current abuse before you can heal. But there is no such thing as "fully healing". We are all in a lifetime process of healing our childhood abuse. We can be healed enough that our wounds do not always reopen, but there will be times when they do, for the rest of our lives. Trauma sticks with us and never fully leaves us. And that's okay. It's as much a part of us as our eye color or our freckles, though maybe not always as noticeable. It doesn't make us broken or bad or shameful. It makes us strong and wiser. But it also makes gives us the unique opportunity to help others going through the same thing.
But you can learn to love yourself and heal from childhood trauma even if you are still living with your parents or other abuser. Especially if you build boundaries to the point of them backing off a bit from their normal behavior (which is not always possible for everyone--and can sometimes makes things worse, depending on the narcissist in your life).
Don't get me wrong, I am so ready for my family to be living our own life away from her, and will be as soon as our finances allow us to (and as soon as we have RV's or something similar to escape to, which you can read about in my next blog post, which has the details of our escape plan). But I can still work on my healing, so not all hope is lost. In fact, I have healed while living here. I have also been retriggered out the anus, but I taught myself through being retriggered from all my childhood trauma, that I am now able to control the situation. Whereas as a child, I could not.
It's been super healing in that way. As a child, I had to endure. And when we first lived here, I also thought I had to endure, because I totally reverted back to my old, abused self. But after dealing with it in an adult and appropriate way, I found that I don't have to endure shit! I can walk away. I can talk back. I can speak my fucking mind. I can do whatever the hell I want to, I am a grown ass adult (though I do not act reactionary to her, as that will make me the bad guy, and I am not the bad guy here). I do not have to endure her bullshit for one more second. And I let her know that, when I have to. Do you realize just how healing that is? I didn't until just now. I mean, I experienced it but I didn't think about it until this very moment. That me being able to step into my childhood self, as I did when we first moved in (oh god, I restarted old anxiety symptoms I hadn't experienced since childhood), and then be able to step out of that role as helpless child and then step into my role as a forty-four year old adult women has been miraculous. And I think it will speed my recovery from her abuse, and it won't take me twelve years to move on after her death, as it did with my father. I may never be able to forgive her the way I did with my dad, but I don't feel that matters anymore. I could forgive my dad, because he felt remorse for every single bad thing he did. Doesn't excuse it, but at least he had a human response to it all. Whereas my mother has zero remorse (she does have shame though, which keeps her acting the way she does). So I don't need to forgive her. But if I do, I'll take that, too. Whatever happens, happens.
Now, not all people have the ability to have the same situation I have going on for me. Some people are still stuck in a financial whirlpool with their abuser, where they are dependent on them. And we were financially dependent on her for a very long time, so I know exactly how that feels. You are trapped. But while you are working on a way to untrap yourself and become free of this person, do not think working on healing yourself is useless. And I don't think Patrick meant that, by any means, but the way he said it, it really freaked me out for a moment, thinking I was trapped all over again. But I am not. I can free myself by working on me while I am waiting for us to make our escape from her.
Here are some books Patrick suggested to help with your healing (from another video of his), as well as a few of my own that have helped me (not affiliate links):
Inner Child Books:
On Adulting
The Voice of Knowledge: A Practical Guide to Inner Peace: Don Miguel Ruiz, Janet Mills: 9781878424549: Amazon.com: Books (this book changed my life, and I should read it again soon)
No One Is To Blame: Freedom From Compulsive Self-Defeating Behavior: Bob Hoffman: 9780831400576: Amazon.com: Books (this one is out of print, BUT you can get it from Scribd for nothing if you get their free subscription)
Parts Work: An Illustrated Guide to Your Inner Life - Kindle edition by Holmes, Tom, Eckstein, Sharon, Holmes, Lauri. Health, Fitness & Dieting Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com. (I cannot recommend this book, and all other IFS books enough!!!)
So while I will still update my mother's behavior here, as like I said, this blog is for keeping a record of what's going on with her, I need to switch back more into healing mode, as I was when I was no contact with her. I do not need to wallow in her inanity, just because I live with her. I am important, too. As is my healing. So I will be working within these books to bring us some great healing exercises that you can do, too.
I think concentrating on healing while you are living with your abuser is important, because it keeps your mind on what matters the most: your healing, rather than on them. But also concentrate on your escape plan at the same time. Because that is just as important, too.
Good luck, my friends. And let me know what's going on in your life below.
For my entire life, I have been labeled as lazy. Mostly because I am disorganized, but also because I have always been seen as "not a hard worker". When I got pregnant, my father told my in-laws and myself that he hoped my labor was hard, so I could actually know what it was like to work at something. He also told them he hoped I stayed married to their son, because I quit everything I try.
As a kid, my parents always said I never did chores or cleaned my room. Which was blatantly untrue, as I did do the chores I was asked to do, even though the second part is true, because I did organize my room, but it was an organized mess, so why would I want to clean it and not know where my stuff was? I was content in my mess. And for some reason my mother thought that a) by picking on me for it, it made her feel better about her hidden messes, and b) it was something she could use against me to shame me to her friends and our family. "Have you had your shots yet?" was her go to question to anyone venturing near my room. As though saying it for years on end wasn't enough to make anyone want to scream.
But the message was clear: my mother was so ashamed of how my room looked that she would be willing to embarrass me just so she it didn't look bad on her.
See, my mother wasn't clean in the least. She was a closet hoarder. She shoved everything into drawers and closets, until they were bursting at the seams. She had zero idea of how to organize, but on the surface, everything looked put away and bare. I mean, minus the fact that our house was completely filthy growing up. It was like she was too busy smoking and drinking with my father to bother cleaning the carpets or washing the nasty walls. You had to wear shoes in my house, or else your socks or feel would turn black in a few minutes. And it smelled. Like cat piss and thirdhand cigarette smoke. But my room was the thing to be embarrassed of. Even though my room wasn't dirty, just messy, and it didn't smell bad at all (I was the only person lucky enough to have wood floors and not carpet).
She is the biggest hypocrite on the face of this earth, though then again, what narcissist isn't?
Anyways, because my room was messy and I was more of a dreamer than a doer, I was labelled as completely lazy. Never mind if my parents were raking the yard, I'd come out to help and they'd go inside to drink and leave me to finish it (and I always did). Never mind I mowed both the front and back yards myself as I got older (which took two hours). Never mind every time my mother left the house I'd clean the entire house for her (and when she'd come home instead of saying thank you, she'd say "You left streaks on the hall mirror", as if she never did). Never mind I'd do hours and hours of homework every single night (in high school) and could not do chores, even if I had wanted to. Never mind I was never asked to wash the dishes, not once, or do laundry (though I taught myself how when I was in middle school because she kept ruining my clothes--and never let her wash my clothes again). Never mind I taught myself how to install doorknobs, fix electronic stuff around the house, and learned to build things. Never mind all that shit. I had a messy room and didn't finish a lot of the projects I started because I had undiagnosed ADHD. So I was fucking lazy.
My father died believing this about me. He also died never apologizing to me for being a total asshole for most of my life. And my parents belief that I was a lazy filtered over into my adult life, with a messy house and my first husband used to call me lazy, too. Never mind he never once lifted his chubby little fingers to do shit, like vacuum, dress his children, or do the laundry. It was my home life all over again. But that's what we seek out, those of us who grew up in toxic households. We seek out more of the same toxicity, because that's all we know. And not to mention, the entire time my ex shamed me calling me lazy, so was my mother, who had a key to our house and barged in whenever she liked, screaming at me about the state of my house. What about her house? It smelled like piss and farts until my father died. And then she used his insurance money to renovate the house. Why didn't she think my father, who paid for our house, who's name was on the deed, wouldn't want to see his house livable when he was alive? What good was doing that after he died. But I digress, because we're talking about a narcissist here, and nothing they do ever makes any sense.
So I had it coming at me from all sides. Getting called lazy from this way and that.
And I had come to believe that they were all right. I mean, if my mother called me lazy, my father called me lazy, my husband called me lazy, and his parents, too, then how was I not?
Turns out, I am just disorganized because I have ADHD, which means I have horrible executive functioning skills. AND I have found out, at the age of forty-four, I AM NOT FUCKING LAZY. Not in the least. Yes, I tend to put things off (another executive functioning issue), but when I do something, I do the shit out of it. I built railings for my mother on the back porch, so she wouldn't fall off. I didn't have any plans, I just came up with an idea and did it. I created a HUGE garden this past summer, and many of the plants I grew from seed inside the house. I even had a schedule that I made for each plant, knowing when they would best start sprouting and whatnot. Could a lazy person do that? I also manage all of our finances, build savings for the house (which we always end up spending because shit breaks), and am in charge of building everyone's credit scores. I also create content for my various blogs, almost daily, and I finished FOUR around three-hundred page memoirs in a year last year. Before, with writing fiction, I couldn't finish one book in a year, and now I am writing machine. I also do the meal-planning for the house and I am the main cook, as well. I take all the pets to the vet, get their meds and give them to them when needed. I cut everyone's hair in the house, including my own, as well as our two dogs who need to be groomed (I am so much better at human hair LOL). I do 90% of the cleaning, though my mother does dishes (unfortunately, because she's horrible at it), and I usually rewash them most days. I organize the garage and the basement on the regular, and I've been systematically downsizing our belongings since moving in here in 2020. I am in charge of my mother's twenty-something medications, and in charge of making everyone's doctor's appointments. I am not completely organized, but I am so much better than I was when I was younger, as I have been on a mission since 2016 to learn how to do better (and Clutterbug.me has helped me soooooooo much!). But my lack of type-A organizations skills doesn't make me fucking lazy. It just makes me disorganized. That's it. My kitchen is organized as fuck. My bedroom is getting there. My basement is....well, it's where I have all my creative shit I do, so it's let's just pretend that doesn't exist. But still, I am getting it organized and cleaned out, so that's something.
Personally? I think I am one of the least lazy people I know. This dawned on me yesterday when I was cleaning out my basement. I worked my ass off to get done what I did, and I thought to myself "I am a hard worker, dammit. Who the hell thinks I am lazy??" I've always been hard worker, even as a child. So why on earth did they ever think I was lazy? Mostly, it was due to the fact that I was being judged by narcissists and other toxic adults, who had no idea how to be adults in the first place. Even if you aren't a hard worker, that doesn't mean you're lazy, either. You have better things to do, like use your mind to do more important things. But I am a hard worker. And I also am a dreamer, who likes to come up with ideas and projects almost daily. I don't always get them done, and some I never start. But that's the dreamer part of my personality. There is nothing lazy about dreaming, no matter how many people tell you there is.
Laziness is not a real word, do you know that? It's a word that signifies someone who doesn't do things the way others want them to do those things in a time frame that is acceptable to the person making the judgement. But that's all it is: a judgement. Nothing more. We humans put shit off for many different reasons. One being anxiety and/or depression. I put off taking a shower for two entire weeks once because my anxiety was so bad it terrified me to do so. Granted, I washed myself, I was clean, but the idea of being boxed into a little space just bothered me to no end. Another reason we put shit off is because we don't feel good. I have POTS, which is postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (look it up) and sometimes I go through periods of time where I cannot leave my bed at all due to dizziness or adrenaline surges or migraines. Sometimes we put shit off because we just plain forget. If you have ADHD, you sure know what that's like. It sucks to forget so much, and there are strategies to help us, but even so, they don't always work. And we still forget. My mother's biggest issue with me is my forgetfulness, in which she makes about my laziness. As though me forgetting means I am too dumb to get things done. Never mind all the other shit I get done. I'd go to the grocery store last year and get her everything on her list, as well as my list, too. And she'd say "You forgot my cigarettes" rather than just say thank you. She doesn't do that anymore, as I have trained her better, but it wasn't that long ago she was still getting on my case about being lazy.
But the biggest reason people look "lazy" on the outside is due to poor executive function. Here is one great video on this to help you understand what executive functioning is all about:
What is Executive Dysfunction? | Kati Morton - YouTube
But there are loads more great videos on the subject, just search it.
I can't believe it took me until yesterday for me to realize just how NOT lazy I am. I can be lazy in certain moments, but there is always reason for me not wanting to do something. Sometimes there is no good reason, but hey, we're all allowed to be actually lazy at times. The rest of the time, we actually have good reasons for not getting stuff done. And fuck anyone who wants to call you lazy. And fuck all those assholes in my life who led me to believe I am lazy.
Yesterday, as I stood in my basement, I thought to myself "I hope my father, if there is any sort of afterlife, realizes just how much he fucked me up with that label. And that I forgive him for it, because he was a child in a man's body. And so what I do care what little children think of me? Unless, they're my kids.". And he wasn't my kid. If he was still alive, he'd surely be my child, because I'd be stuck taking care of him. But most likely, I would have had nothing to with either of my parents by this point, if he had survived until now. I hate my father died so young, but at the same time, I am so much better off without him in my life. So very, very much. But I have nothing to prove to him. Nor my mother. They are both little brains in big bodies who think they are grown. And they're just not.
And I am not who they told me I was. I never was. And now it's time for me to change my mindset about who I am and what I am capable of, without their judgements.
Finally.
Today my mother had my son wake us up and ask if he can take her to the grocery store to get her friend a cake. I was going to make a cake last night, but I didn't, due to the fact that I was busy creating my book. I've been working on this workbook for a long time, and recently found out that Canva deleted over 100 pages of my work.
I am trying not to be angry about, since what will that do? So instead, I just decided to go with what I had. And in a way, it was a blessing, due to the fact that I realized I was putting WAY too much work into it in the first place. Though that doesn't negate the fact that I did 100 pages of graphic design that is totally lost now. But what can you do? I can't change it, so I go with it.
It's a seasonal workbook based on my mindfulness blog, and instead of being for the whole year, I ended up making it be for autumn. I'll do winter next, but I tell you what, I was stressed the fuck out yesterday and today finishing it up, because KDP is very particular about stuff, and I had to edit, edit, edit. And I forgot to make the cake.
So she wanted to go get a cake. I said fine. I do NOT like her going to the grocery store and I do not let her go anymore, due to the fact she buys nothing but sweets, and she's diabetic. Also, she buys tons of cleaners that I cannot breathe in due to allergies, which she knows, but buys them anyways.
But I said okay, but I told my son "Do not tell her how much money she has in her bank until you get there, because she's going to flip." I put $20 in her bank to keep her on track, and only buying cakes.
But, she hounded my son before they left about how much money she had and he told her and she FREAKED the fuck out! "Well, I am not going only to buy cakes!! That's stupid! I won't even go then! Tell your mom I need EIGHTY more dollars!!" No joke. She was fucking serious.
I am surprised my son didn't burst out laughing. Like I am going to give her eighty dollars to go the store and go buy candies, and cookies, and sweets, to kill herself with. Good grief.
So my son says "Well, mom just paid $350 to the vet for our animals, $350 to the first plumber to fix our emergency plumbing situation, and $350 to the second. Plus she bought $200 worth of groceries the day before. Plus she just bought you cigarettes and your vape, which around $100. And Thanksgiving is coming. She can't just give you $100 for no reason."
This seemed to calm her. And she went to the store with my son. And guess what she bought?
Fucking cat food.
She knows I tell her all the god damned time I buy the SAME cat food because switching cat food gives several of my cats diarrhea. And hers, too. And there she goes and buys some random gross cat food, a tiny bag at that (we have 7 cats), for a majority of her money.
She wanted to buy cake for her BFF, named Christmas (my name for her), since today was her 75th birthday. And the woman didn't even show up.
And this woman, who used to be my friend, too, has never once wished me a happy birthday or given me a card or even called to say hey about it. So I am glad I didn't make her a cake.
So my mother used a cake mix we had at home (why she didn't in the first place really shows her ulterior motive for going to the grocery store). And then she complained the ENTIRE FUCKING TIME at my oldest son (her current scapegoat) for not helping her make it in the way she wanted. My theory is that if she needs help making a god damned box cake she shouldn't be cooking, period.
But she did it and she was fine, she just wanted to try and guilt my son. But she can fuck off about it, because I am glad he didn't help her, because she was being a total bitch to him. And I do not deal well with her treating my kid like shit. So I've been quite the smart ass to her today.
She said "I told her your son if he leaves one more dish in the living room? He has the do the dishes!"
So I said "Oh that's nice, at least then our dishes will be clean, then."
She said "I guess I'll just mix this pudding myself!" (complaining to my son, who wasn't listening to her)
So my husband said to her "Are your arms broke? I mean, having broken arms means you need to see a doctor!"
She said, like she does EVERY FREAKING NIGHT "Oh Shay, who do you think I am? You always put too much food on my plate!"
So I said...nothing, because I was so freaking annoyed. Then I said "YOU ARE WELCOME." She replied "Oh, thank you, I didn't mean anything!" So I replied "Well, you say that every single night, ma! Just instead tell me it looks delicious." She said "Oh, it looks delicious." I said thank you.
Today she's been a bitch since she woke up. And when mother is a bitch, she gets bossy, controlling, and mean. Usually to my son. And she knows damn well I do not stand for that shit.
So today, I am going to wash the dishes, as I may for the next week. If she's going to thinks she's going to threaten my son about something so stupid, she's got another thing coming (granted, he'll wash the dishes, and do a better job than she does---I literally think she puts away dirty pots and pans without washing them--but it's not about that, it's about the fact she thinks she cant treat my son like a child and boss him around when she's angry). She hates when I do dishes, because that means she's not doing them, and if she's not doing them, she has nothing to lord over us. She LOVES to tell people that I make her do the dishes every day. In fact, I forbade her last year from doing them because she's awful at it and there is caked on food on all our utensils, plates, cups, and otherwise. But she just snuck back into it and now she does then every day again.
Granted, my husband is going to school full time and working full time, and I have POTS, so neither one of us has the stamina to get them done before morning every single day. And if I leave them until the morning, she will do them. So I am okay with her doing them, but I am not okay with her using the fact that she does against people.
A few months ago, she screamed "YOUR SON HAS MY BOWLS IN HIS ROOM!!" And he didn't. I had already looked (she loves to blame him for everything). And she kept blaming him and I said calmly back "Your bowls? I paid for them, they are mine." Oh she didn't like that, but that's how she is. She needs control like her body needs air and water to survive.
I still can't get over she was asking for $100 today. God knows it wasn't to get Thanksgiving stuff. And if it was, I would have been angry, as I am in charge of Thanksgiving this year, 100%, because when she cooks anything? She acts like today: an irate lunatic. So she's forbidden from making anything for any holiday ever again. Hell, she's forbidden from cooking, period. I fucking HATE IT when she does, as she's sooooooo mean and rude about it. Always directing it at my oldest son.
So yeah, I'm going to go plan Thanksgiving now. And relish in the fact it will be stress free, if I have to slap some bitches around for it to be so! Ha!
I am adopted. I met my birthmother when I was twenty-two, and have been friends with her since (I am now 44). She calls me her daughter, which I do not like, but I cannot say that, because I do not like confrontation. I fear irrational responses or being ignored, so I don't say anything and just suffer and complain about it. Which is stupid, I know, but when you're abused, most of the way you react to things isn't how you should be reacting. And it's not our fault, though we can fix it once we know what's going on. Though, it's not like it's an overnight fix, that once you know what's going on, you do better. It takes time and practice and hard work.
So, I used to think I was attention seeking by "needing an audience for my pain". That's what I used to call it. I'd post on Facebook or call up my friends, just to decompress about another person who was mean to me. So when I quit doing that on social media (by deleting all my friends LOL), I assumed that the flaw was inside of me (and it was, but not for the reason I thought), that I was somehow a bit "toxic" myself (and at times, I really was) or that I was "attention seeking". Someone would make me mad, someone would cross me, or someone would be super rude to me or do something nasty to me and I would immediately take to social media and post about it. And as I aged, I mellowed out and got better about that behavior. But a few years ago, I was going through some shit with my mother and posted about it online and my birthmother thought it was wise to message me to tell me that I was "spiraling out of control" and I was being horrible negative and making her feel bad, even though what I posted had nothing to do with her.
Um. What? Yeah, so the woman hardly ever spoke to me and decided to just up and message me, scolding me like a little girl. And it wasn't really nice stuff, either, what she said. It was some shit that nobody had ever said to me before, and it really, really hurt my feelings and made me feel terrible about myself (I have ADHD, so that means I get rejection sensitive dysphoria, which is a horrible reaction to negative things with either massive depression or rage...I get the depression part, and sometimes it can last all day--and we're talking horrible depression, not just being sad).
And the old me, the really young me, would have freaked the fuck out on her (I used to be more rageful). As a teenager, I was a bit toxic (okay, more than a bit). But I grew up in nothing but toxicity so I had no idea how else to function. But the thirtysomething year old me took a step back and said "I am so confused by your comment since you are not my mother, so why would you think you can talk to me like that? And if you were my mother, the same applies. Instead, you could ask me what's wrong, rather than telling me I am too "negative" for you to be friends with on Facebook anymore. That's just rude."
And we stopped being friends on Facebook anyways, but she did end up apologizing. And then she promptly went another so many years without speaking to me (during the pandemic, she never checked on me once, I had to check in on her).
But her words stayed with me until today. She made me feel broken, uneven, not right, That I was somehow "too much". Overpowering. Annoying. That I should be ashamed of who I was. And I was ashamed of myself. I had been for my entire life. And I still am about a lot of things. But her hurtful words made it so much very worse.
I am sure a lot of you out there know exactly how that feels. We, adult daughters and sons of narcissists, many of us have been accused of being "too much" since the dawn of time. Just because we have big emotions and we don't hide them from others. The funny part is that her mother, my grandmother, is a raging narcissist, and yet my birthmother cannot see it. So there she was, scolding me for feeling too much when she didn't feel much at all. She was, and is, content to live in a space of her own making, that requires her to wear rose-colored glasses and pretend that everyone around her has her best interests at heart. She's more codependent than I ever was, and has fallen for catfishers left and right on the internet. One time, she invited to participate with her online on her favorite space to be in (though outdated today, but she still uses it): Second Life, where she just sat intertwined with some random man on couch, and completely ignored me. Because that's who she is. Someone who gives birth to someone yet forgets her fortieth birthday and many other birthdays too. Who will send Christmas gifts to my kids in the mail for years, then just out of the blue stops for no reason. And she wants to say I am the chaotic one.
But while she made me angry for triggering my feelings of shame about who I am, I have to remember one thing: we are both victims of maternal narcissistic abuse. So neither one of us is going to act right. Not until we heal and understand what is going on with us.
My anger, and need for others to validate my pain, probably triggered her. And that's why she messaged me to say what she did. And she can't help being codependent. Hell, I could even make the point that she wasn't even at fault for her own stupid choices in life, but we all know that we all need to be responsible for our choices in life, whether we are at fault for what caused us to make them or not. So her abandoning me with strangers at six months old was her choice and her choice alone (and it really was...she literally fought in court for her right to do so). So that I can't really argue it away with "oh she was abused", because I was abused, and I would never abandon my child (if you're going to do so, do it at birth, not at six months old, like she did with me, and make sure they are somewhere safe). Because the minute we start rationalizing away people's choices (or our own choices) by saying "oh, but they were abused", is the minute we make narcissistic abuse okay. And we all know it's not.
But my need for an audience for my pain was never actually "needing an audience" for anything. It was always about connection. It was how I grew up. It was how I was taught to connect to others. With gossip. With complaining. With commiserating. And I craved connection so much. I also think that type of connection is addicting, because it give us a little "high" in our brains, lights up our prefrontal cortex, every single time we do it. I know this because every time someone does something bad to me? I have this URGE to tell others about it. Right now, I am addicted to complaining about every little thing my mother does to me. I finally broke my addiction in 2017 when I went no contact with her the last time (I've been NC twice with her, though the first time she was the one not talking to me). But I was still addicted to doing this with my friends. It was literally the only way I knew for my entire life how to connect with others. I've actually had friendships that revolved around talking shit about someone (a mutual friend of ours, a group of five of us, lied and said he had cancer and we created a social media group to share stories about his lies...once we were done, none of us had anything in common and never spoke to each other again).
So my birthmother's perception of me was that I was "spiraling out of control", I was just being my normal self and could not understand why she would say such thing. But something in my behavior triggered her. I think she kept and keeps control in her life by not accessing her emotions much at all. She certainly has no idea how to be my family member and could have cared less when I wrote her a poem the first time I met her when I was twenty-two about how I was grateful she walked away from me because I wouldn't have the life I had if she had made a different choice. Granted, I didn't word it like that. My point was in my poem was that she made the right decision. I still think that, but I also think she made a selfish and shitty decision to rip me out of my family home when my own grandmother wanted custody of me. But like I said, my grandma is a raging narcissist, so I guess I was always destined to this fate. And my birthmother just read it front of me and folded it up and said a very unfeeling "thanks", which hurt me beyond anything, as I am a very feeling person.
So my form of connection with others was validation. I needed to be told that what I felt was valid. That I was right to be angry. That I wasn't overreacting or being stupid. And when someone told me I was being stupid, I felt horribly crushed and most likely would stop talking to that person. But that's how I grew up. I only knew a) connection through complaining and gossiping and b) complete invalidation by my parents. So I sought my validation with everyone else. And the only way to get my mother to listen to me or not make me feel dumb was to gossip with her. So I craved that type of validation, too. Until a few years ago when I realized that gossip is just a narcissistic behavior and I needed to stop.
Now, that doesn't mean I don't sometimes still gossip. If I get around someone else who is gossiping, I will feel compelled to join in because of a "people pleasing" issue I have with narcissists. I am better than I was, but if I do it once with someone, I try to never do it again, because I don't want to fall down the rabbit hole back to who I used to be. I mean, I can't fall that far, but still. And sometimes I still have automatic negative thoughts about people (which is like a form of internal gossip), but I remember to just change my thought immediately instead to a nice one. Being human means we are always a work in progress and we'll never be perfect. But at least I don't allow others to make me feel bad about who I used to be anymore. Granted, there are things I wish I could take back that I said or did, but you do better when you know better, right?
We can not only forgive ourselves of negative behavior, but also, be more understanding with ourselves, because sometimes we didn't know any better when we weren't acting right. Yes, the act of gossiping is wrong. But the fact I used to be a gossip is not wrong, because I didn't know how to be otherwise. I can take responsibility for my actions without thinking I was broken or bad, or thinking I "needed an audience for my pain". Because I wasn't an attention seeker as much as I was just trying to find validation for my feelings. Attention seeking is something narcissists do. It's usually negative attention so they can feel victimized. Non-narcs can do this, too, because if you're raised by one, you can surely act like one without actually being one. The difference is we can change, they can't. My mother does things that will hurt herself in order to get into trouble so she can feel victimized by the person getting her into trouble (usually, me). That's attention seeking. Me connection to others by always complaining about someone or something, that's me seeking connection and validation for how I feel. Even though people label it as the same thing, it really isn't.
I have seen so many people do this, and sometimes so much worse than I ever did. And now I get it. I get why they do it and while other people look at them and say "Wow, she's nothing but drama!" (something that was said about me, too), I now understand that drama is what those people are used to and don't know how to do anything else. It doesn't make them bad people, unless they are actually narcissists. It just makes them people who need to find a new way of connecting with others.
Just like me. I gave up having human friends (haha, I say humans because I am surrounded by dogs all day, though they do seem to make better friends than people) because I thought I was broken. That I somehow I was "drama" or too "chaotic" and needed a reprieve from all that chaos. And I was right to do so. At first, it was horribly lonely, but in this, I found I am actually a HUGE introvert, not an extrovert at all. I was just addicted to the ups and downs on my friendships. And it gave me perspective. It taught me I could live without those ups and downs and without all that drama. That I could find peace within myself. But the true test will be when I get friends again, will I still be able to keep up the peace inside of me? Or will I fall right back into that chaos again?
And today, I find I am still addicted to my mother's chaos, all over again, even though I try not to participate in it. But even if I don't participate with her in it, I am participating by always complaining to my husband about it. I get that little "high" off bitching about her. Yes, she's annoying as all get out and sometimes she still does some really mean stuff, but it's like I need to complain about her to feel that "high" again. That sense of satisfaction that only comes when you feel validated when someone is commiserating with you.
It's something I need to work on, to fully break free of her chaos and narc energy. Something I would like to be able to do while I am still living with her. To let her words and actions just roll off my back. It would be nice. I didn't break free and heal from my father's abuse until 2012, twelve full years after he died. I don't want to wait that long. I know that living with her is making things worse for me to be able to heal from her. Because how can you heal while still being actively abused? I know I've written this a hundred times on here, but I just need to ignore it. But in all honesty, I just have no idea how.
But always complaining about her, while it gives me a little "high", it also makes me feel bad inside. Not complaining about her, per say, but the negative energy it brings me. My mental health is more important than dealing with her bullshit. Only a few more months until my hubby's school is at the point where can get a WAY better paying job (college is normally a scam, but when you go for the right thing, it's extremely lucrative). And then? We'll have the ability to put her in a home. It's November now. Just five more months. He may not get the job in exactly five months, but at least we'll have the ability to start looking for one. And to start getting rid of her assets so she can go in a home. Praise Jeebus.
Anyways, I finally feel a little less broken. And I believe there is hope for the future to have friends again, too. Not on social media, because that shit is the bane of humanity. But in real life. And I may be able to do things proper (or more proper) this time.
Here is the video that helped me to see what was really going on with me:
7 Types Of Invalidating Toxic Parents - Role Play - YouTube
PS: Writing this blog post helped me not be as angry at my birthmother. I was fully prepared to really lay into her about what she did to me, the choices she made, but now I have a bit of a different perspective about it. And when I can understand why people do the things they do, their actions don't hurt me anymore. Which is why I am obsessed with psychology and IFS and introspection.
This week has been, uh, interesting, to put it nicely. Up until recently, she's been mostly good and pleasant and while still annoying, she's been more bearable. Then she decided that she's going to change things up for a bit. Like she always does. Unlike me, the person who usually does the same thing most days, she thrives on constant need for undulating change. What goes up, always comes down, and will always go back up again. It's a steady, though at times a tad uneven, ride. And when you're caretaking someone like this, you can't get away from it.
And like I said, much of it was bearable up until lately. I do tend to get annoyed over things I could just let go. Sometimes I think being angry at her is a hobby of mine. I mean, I don't let it dictate the way I treat her. But I do get annoyed quiet frequently, even though to her face I am extremely nice to her (because being mean to old people isn't a hobby of mine). But god is it hard to do, because she's extremely freaking annoying. But I tell you what, I'll take annoying any day over her being a total asshole, which she was a year ago. Actually, she was a few months ago. It's only been around maybe four months she's been on her best behavior, even though that means she's not been actively plotting to make my life miserable. Then again, she still does in her own way, but it's much less than before. Which is a good thing, I guess. Or maybe the world "tolerable" is what I should be using here. Her behavior is mostly tolerable.
But lately, the past few weeks, she's been a busy beaver. She's been super hyperactive, and bossy, especially to my oldest son (he's in his almost mid 20's). And he's the type of person who doesn't like rocking the boat, so he doesn't say much to her (though he used to as a teenager, but as he's aged, he's mellowed out). But not me. I will rock that boat until everyone falls off and splashes into the water. Just kidding. I am not really like that. I actually keep my mouth shut too, for the most part. Not because of any other reason than a) I don't want to make my kids or other people uncomfortable and b) I have huge issues with confrontation. Though recently I had to say something to her, because there is only so much nonsense one person can take.
Yesterday, like usual recently, she's been a babble monster. Just yapping her cake hole for yapping's sake. No real reason. No real sense. Just yap yap yap "I must fill the silence with my YAPPING!!! AAAAHHHH!!". So. Much. Fun.
So she was yapping. Now she's taken to reading in the kitchen when I am cooking. She used to read outside, but it's been cold. She used to read inside earlier in the day. Now? She makes sure she is out there about five minutes before I get there so she can yap at me, too. She knows better. But she has a hair up her ass to get at me lately (she's been bored, so when she's bored, she tries to get on people's nerves). So now she hangs out in the kitchen. At first, she was quiet. Reading her book. Then she started in on the yapping. See, she wanted to lull into a sense of security, making me think she'd be quiet. But then she flipped the script and starting running her mouth. Why? Because my mother self-soothes by projectile vomiting verbal diarrhea all over the place. She's bored or anxious or depressed, so she has to talk until someone tells her to shush or we leave the room. It's not loneliness, either. She doesn't give two shits what anyone else has to say. She doesn't care about what anyone else wants to do, either. She walks into the room while we are watching our shows or calls out from the kitchen, knowing we're watching something, and will run her mouth continuously, just to prove she has control to make us stop what we're doing just to pay attention to her.
And my oldest pays her a lot of attention. And she just crushes him with unkind words and mean remarks and rudeness. So I don't give a fuck about giving her attention if she's going to treat my son like shit. I give her as much attention as she deserves. She has friends to call can chat with for long-winded conversations that make no fucking sense. Yesterday she went on and on and on about how she used to spit out her mother's roasts into her napkin and her mother took her the doctor and her doctor said it was okay, because she's getting nutrition just by chewing it. I said to her "That' simply not true. Chewing meat doesn't do anything at all, it's like you're chewing gum." She said "Well, the doctor said it was healthy!" I said "Your doctor was a 1950's doctor, what in the hell did he know? No, mom, you didn't get once of nutrition from that. Your doctor was full of it." Because that's the kind of nonsense that I have to listen to with her. Her spouting off knowledge that isn't knowledge at all, it's a made up farce. Most of it is knowledge she makes up in her head. This time her doctor made it up. But it's always not real. Like the other day she put all our batteries in the garage. I said "Do not put them in there, it freezes". She said "Well, you should put your batteries in the fridge or freezer, they work better that way!" I said "No they do not. Look it up. That's horrible for batteries! Then why do car batteries freeze sometimes??" She's a crazy person full of crazy bullshit that makes no sense. Granted, she didn't make that one up, either, she heard it from someone. But she never ever looks things up herself. She just stays ignorant. And then spouts that ignorance out to me, and I have to correct her.
So much fun.
Then, she was yelling at my son while I was cooking. Can I mention my son is an adult? He's not a child. But she talks to him like he's 5. And he's the one who pays her attention. See, she knows she can hurt him, so she does. I need to tell him to just stop paying her attention, she'll treat him better. But why do we have to do that in life? Change who we are in order to get treated properly? That's why I am grey rock with her. Which is the root of my depression. Being grey rock takes a LOT out of you. It changes you. It changes how you act and what you say and how you say things. I can't be me living with her. And it's taking a toll on mental health. And has for years. And I don't want to do that with my son. But he's getting hurt by reaching out to her. And I don't know why he does. But he's a nice person who wants a real grandma. Too bad all my kids' grandmas ARE TOTAL NARCCISSISTS.
What the fuck is up with that? But that's the way of the world: most people are narcs.
Anyways, she's blabbing at my son while I'm cooking, I'm getting annoyed, she's bitching and bossing him around and what do I do? I put ONE HALF CUP of brown sugar into our pizza crust instead of ONE HALF TABLESPOON. Good lord. This is why I require silence when cooking. Back in the day, she used to do the same thing, and I eventually put a stop to it and now I'm going to have to again. I am making a new/old rule of silence when I cook again. So I'm going to a) not actually cook when she's in the room. She's going back to microwave meals that I premake for her. And b) I will be wearing my huge headphones while I do it so I can't hear her. Watch how fast she'll quit "reading" in the kitchen when I cook.
It's not just the talking that's the issue. She walked up to my stove and tried to pull the lid off my pot of boiling chicken (wanna cook chicken tenderloins fast and juicy? boil em!). My son screamed "You're going to burn yourself!" It's an old rice cooker lid, with a metal handle on top, that you can't touch with bare hands. So she pulled her sleeve down over her hand to pull the lid off. I grabbed her hand and said "What are you doing? Do not touch my pots." She said "I am trying to make the bubbles stop!!" Oh good lord, that's dementia. Because I was BOILING the water, bubbles mean good. And I guess she forgot that. Next time I bet she'll use her bare hands. So yeah, no more cooking with her in the room. It's bordering on getting dangerous.
But I grabbed her hand and tried to pull it off my pot lid and she refused to let it go. So I kept pulling and she kept refusing. So afterwards I said "Do NOT do that again. Do NOT touch my food when I am cooking." She said "I didn't, I touched the pot!" I said "Do NOT touch my pots, my pans, or anything while I am cooking. EVER again." She got huffy and went to her room.
Oh, I also yelled as a joke (but I was NOT joking) "I NEED SILENCE WHEN I COOK!! NOBODY IS EVER ALLOWED TO SPEAK TO ME AGAIN WHILE I AM COOKING!! YA'LL ANNOY ME!" Everyone laughed. But they also knew deep down, I was serious. If not, I will refer to me saying this and say "Oh, I wasn't joking. Y'all need to shutup."
Then there is the smoking. First, she started smoking out front, even though we have a rule she can only smoke in the backyard. I told her to stop, so she did. But we'll see how long she'll find another excuse to smoke out front again. Then a couple days ago, she took her cigarettes with in the car and smoked twice outside the of the car, knowing damn well she would smell horrible getting back into the car. She did this for two reasons. One, she can't live without smoking anymore. And two, she's been trying to bother me as much as she can by coming around me right after she's done smoking, knowing I can't stand it. See, she picks her cherries off her cigarettes. Which makes your hands smell like sewage. And she'll come into the house and bother me. I always get upset and tell her "You need to air out before coming around me after smoking. You smell horrible." So the other day, she came right up to me and starting bothering me while I was cooking, and I said that to her and she yelled "Well, I could smell like shit, that would be worse!" I said "Not by much. You stink. You need to move away from me." She yelled "I can't help it!!" I laughed and said "Of course you can help it, ma. You're the one choosing to smoke." She got huffy and instead of stomping off to her room, she went and sat at the table, so she could bother me some more. A week before that, she did the same thing, and just refused to leave and stay right where she stood. So I left the room instead. So the other day, when she smoked in the car, my son said she stood by her door and when she heard me come out (I was picking up a record player for my son from someone on Facebook Marketplace), she ran around the car and smirked at me to show me she was smoking. I, luckily, did not respond or say one word to her. My kids (they're adults, remember) wondered why I didn't get upset with her or tell her to stop. I said "Why? If I do, she'd do it more just to spite me". And she would. It's like living with a shitty teenager. Even my own kids never acted like that. I guess her mother didn't raise her right.
Then we have the complaining. A week ago our neighbors had a garage sale. I think I spent around $60 with them, maybe less. And then they had another one on Saturday, two days ago, and my mother knocks on my door to wake me up and asks "Can I have some cash?" I said "What?" She said "Can I have some cash? They're having another garage sale." I was like, um, I just spent a bunch of money with them, why would I spend more? And the items I bought were for the house, her, or my hubby and kids, equally. I bought a turkey roaster for Thanksgiving, so we can free up our oven, for one. But I didn't have any cash. So then she says, "I'll just tell them to hold my stuff and we'll bring them cash later." I was in a state of just waking up, mixed with confusion why she's bothering me so early, and I didn't know what to say. She got upset and went in her room.
So I had to go pick up my son's record player, so I decided she'd ride with us, and then we'd stop at the Salvation Army to get clothes for her, as she's been asking to go for a bit, and we just haven't had time to take her (my hubby is in school full time and works full time, and my kids work, and I don't drive). The last excursion out into the world with her was TORTUROUS. You can read about our Walmart fun time here. And I had forgotten just how much she fucking complains when we're out and about. So the minute she hears she's going somewhere, she starts bitching. And she thinks it's up to her when we leave and starts getting on people's cases to go. I should never have told her about it until we were ready to go. Anyways, we get in the car, knowing where we were going, and starts bitching it's too far. The kids have to make a stop to get sandwiches in the grocery store, she starts bitching. And smoking outside of the car. Then we leave, and she's bitching. All. The. Way. There. Then we stop at Walmart so the kids can get sandwiches, because the grocery store had upped their prices from five to seven dollars a sub. She's bitching. Walmart literally has zero sandwiches. We get to Salvation Army, and my youngest son shops with her, as me and my older son look at men's stuff for my husband. The kids get sick feeling, because they haven't eaten. So I sent them to go get food while Grandma shops. I have severe anxiety when I am without my support people, but I didn't want my mother to freak the fuck out about the kids complaining they didn't feel good (because she has before), so I dealt with being alone with her. They were gone for a very short period of time, so I gathered up my mother and paid for her stuff. $80 later (actually I think it was closer to $90). And we went home.
And now I vow to not take her again anywhere for another month, because her bitching wasn't as bad as our Walmart trip (where my poor hubby almost went insane), but it was bad enough. And now I have to tell her she can't take her cigs with in the car again. Also, I'm buying her a Juul and we're going to trick her into wanting to smoke it instead of cigarettes. They are $2 a pack cheaper than her nasty cigs, so hopefully it will work. We'll see.
Oh yes, I almost forgot. I bought Lucky Charms hot chocolate because I thought it was funny. I bought it for the whole house and she sees my son get a pack and starts screaming "DON'T TAKE ANY!! THAT'S MINE!" I gave her a shitty look and said "Who says? I bought that for the WHOLE family ma, not just you. That's a HUGE box for just one person." Had it been my younger son, she wouldn't have said shit. In the end, she never took any, because that's how my mom is. She either gets ALL of something, or wants nothing. Same goes for the frozen brownies I brought home from the neighbor who shares food with all the neighbors every month, and she literally tired to take twelve brownies (HUGE brownies at that) for herself and my husband had to literally try to pry them from her hands!! SHE HAS DIABETES! She sure talked shit about her BFF who has diabetes and eats lots of cookies, and that same BFF's sister who also had diabetes but still drank Coca-Cola, but now that my mom does it worse than both of them, it's perfectly okay. Long live narcissism. And having to thrown down with a 70 some odd year old woman for a tray of brownies. Good grief!
I am NOT looking forward to winter with her cooped up in the fucking house. I'm getting her an outdoor heater so she can be outside all she fucking wants. Geezus.
Welcome to Healing From Her.
I am a daughter of a narcissistic mother, one of way too many in this world. If you're here, then you're probably the child of one, too. I hope by reading my words someone out there will realize they aren't alone.
