My mom has always exhibited BPD w/narcissistic and destructive tendencies; however, ever since she has effectively hobbled herself (by neglecting her health to the point where she's pretty much housebound, and has limited mobility, and IMHO a poor quality of life), and after the passing of my dad in 2008, her narcissism has continued to increase.
At first I thought perhaps she might have Body Integrity Identity Disorder, as it seems like she is hell bent on losing a leg or two. But I guess it's not BIID, not because she envisions herself without legs, but definitely she revels in the attention that her handicap provides her. So I guess it's like Munchaussens by Proxy... but without the proxy.
Usually her health crises end up piggy backing on other crises in the family. In 2008 when my dad had his final hospitalization and was selling off his truck, and gave away all his beloved pets, and was liquidating assets, mom couldn't bear life with him any longer, and was mixing and matching medications, and had a suicidal bent to her POV. It's not like she was TRYING to kill herself, but she lost the will to live and if she died in the process, so be it. So it was bad enough to deal with dad's final hospitalization, but to do so with her in the hospital w/a blood glucose hovering around 500+, and she was in a hospital then a nursing facility, well, she demanded equal time, damn it.
This past December, my grandfather died. And due to her hobbling herself, she was unable to make the hour long drive to attend her own father's funeral and burial. And right on schedule, mom's legs were getting bad. Again. Apparently for weeks, and didn't say shit to anyone about it. All she'd do is sit and cry about it. And of course, take antibiotics that were leftover from previous bouts of cellulitis (thus proving she's not compliant and doesn't finish up rounds of medication as required). Even in her vicodin induced haze, she's in constant pain. While I can empathize about living in pain, I have no more "give a fuck" for her, as so much of this could have been avoided or managed DECADES ago, when things started to slide into the land of WTF. It's obvious, she doesn't want to do anything about it.
I recall vividly when hearing her whine about how bad her legs are, and doing it in her characteristic "Pitiful Pearl" voice as well. And I replied, "Then why are you not at the hospital getting medical attention?" And on the turn of the edge of a dime her tone got nasty and clipped, and she snarled back at me, "BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO!"
Esprit d'escalier: Well fuck you. If all you want to do is whine and drain everyone of empathy, and have us worry if you live or die and you're not going to do the bare bones minimum to see to it that you don't lose your legs, then perhaps you deserve to lose your legs!
Seriously. What-the-actual-fuck?
It's kind of like watching someone commit suicide on a molecular level.
And I have no intention on being there in her last moments to hear her
snivel to me, "I was a good mother... wasn't I?" no doubt with the lower
lip pooched out and pathetically quivering as crocodile tears run down
her face.
The telephone time out continues.
Friday, June 28, 2013
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Telephone Timeout =/= Email Time Out
I just thought I'd share this "moment of WTF" from my mother, who has
had ME in a telephone time out in response to me putting HER in a telephone time out nearly three months back. She's been ignoring me for months at this point (and waiting for me to break
down and call her, because she thinks she's so essential to my
existence), hasn't sent me any ACTUAL email communication, yet passively-aggressively forwarded me one of those horrid chain mails.
I had to laugh at this one line: "Time waits for no one." What the actual fuck. I'm seriously LOLing here about this. I'll C&P the chain letter in question, because there is no doubt she intentionally forwarded this, rather than just mindlessly clicked fwd.
The aforementioned tripey chain email:
Fuck her! *DELETE!*
I had to laugh at this one line: "Time waits for no one." What the actual fuck. I'm seriously LOLing here about this. I'll C&P the chain letter in question, because there is no doubt she intentionally forwarded this, rather than just mindlessly clicked fwd.
The aforementioned tripey chain email:
Read quietly then send it back on its journey
To realize
The value of a sister/brother
Ask someone
Who doesn't have one.
To realize
The value of ten years:
Ask a newly
Divorced couple.
To realize
The value of four years:
Ask a graduate.
To realize
The value of one year:
Ask a student who
Has failed a final exam.
To realize
The value of nine months:
Ask a mother who gave birth to a stillborn.
To realize
The value of one month:
Ask a mother
Who has given birth to
A premature baby.
To realize
The value of one week:
Ask an editor of a weekly newspaper.
To realize
The value of one minute:
Ask a person
Who has missed the train, bus or plane.
To realize
The value of one second:
Ask a person
Who has survived an accident.
Time waits for no one.
Treasure every moment you have.
You will treasure it even more when
You can share it with someone special.
To realize the value of a friend or family member:
LOSE ONE.
The origin of this letter is unknown,
But it brings good luck to everyone who passes it on.
Remember....
Hold on tight to the ones you love!
Do not keep this letter.
Send it to friends & family to whom you wish good
fortune. And don't forget the one who sent it to you!
Fuck her! *DELETE!*
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
On Inner Dialogue
Anyone who has been on Facebook or Twitter for more than a day has no doubt seen an image with this text juxtaposed:
"How you speak to your children becomes their inner voice."
About a week or two ago, I'm at work and regaling a few coworkers with some real absurdity entitled, "Inappropriate things people have said to me." When the laughter died down a bit, very dryly I declared, "By the way that's not the worst things someone has said to me. Let me tell you this next story, and it will illustrate how I have zero self-confidence." Of course, they were all incredulous that I have poor self confidence. In many aspects of my life, that is not the case, but in some key parts of my life (career, for instance) I am just not living up to my potential, and I am standing in my way, and I don't know how to fix this as of yet. Both stories involve my mother.
Scenario 1:
Before my husband and I arrived at the site of our wedding, my mother proceeded to tell family members that my husband was marrying me so he could get his Green Card.
(Erroneous! His job sponsored him.)
Subtext: I have no worth, no value, and am wholly undeserving of marrying a handsome, educated, upwardly mobile man without him having ulterior motives.
Scenario 2:
As I was preparing to go to a job interview at a district court house, my mother's "pep talk" consisted thusly:
"Whatever you do, do not let them know how much you love giving head." (She then cackled like an unhinged maniac.)
(Erroneous!)
Subtext: I have no worth, no value, and am wholly undeserving of landing a job of any measure of status or bearing, without debasing myself.
ETA: Regarding that job interview? Yeah. I was so demoralized, I never even bothered to go to it.
FUCK HER!
"How you speak to your children becomes their inner voice."
About a week or two ago, I'm at work and regaling a few coworkers with some real absurdity entitled, "Inappropriate things people have said to me." When the laughter died down a bit, very dryly I declared, "By the way that's not the worst things someone has said to me. Let me tell you this next story, and it will illustrate how I have zero self-confidence." Of course, they were all incredulous that I have poor self confidence. In many aspects of my life, that is not the case, but in some key parts of my life (career, for instance) I am just not living up to my potential, and I am standing in my way, and I don't know how to fix this as of yet. Both stories involve my mother.
Scenario 1:
Before my husband and I arrived at the site of our wedding, my mother proceeded to tell family members that my husband was marrying me so he could get his Green Card.
(Erroneous! His job sponsored him.)
Subtext: I have no worth, no value, and am wholly undeserving of marrying a handsome, educated, upwardly mobile man without him having ulterior motives.
Scenario 2:
As I was preparing to go to a job interview at a district court house, my mother's "pep talk" consisted thusly:
"Whatever you do, do not let them know how much you love giving head." (She then cackled like an unhinged maniac.)
(Erroneous!)
Subtext: I have no worth, no value, and am wholly undeserving of landing a job of any measure of status or bearing, without debasing myself.
ETA: Regarding that job interview? Yeah. I was so demoralized, I never even bothered to go to it.
FUCK HER!
So She's Been In a Telephone "Time Out" Since...
I do not remember the exact date! But it's nearing three months (at current writing).
This post is pretty much the entire comment I posted over at my friend's blog. And I felt it exhibited a sufficient amount of mom's narcissism to be the "maiden post" of this blog. I plan on digging up old blog posts elsewhere, and slapping it here so I have all the related what-the-fuckery isolated in one spot. So here goes...
One day she was playing a rousing game of Telephone Roulette, calling the house, the cell and my work #, 5 calls in total, leaving identical messages on all three voicemails in her pitiful voice, but not alluding to what the call was about.
I waited it out about an hour before my conscience kicked in, “What if she’s actually in crisis?” So I broke down and called, and of course my work # is veiled so it comes up as “unknown,” so she knew I was at work.
“What was so urgent? Are you in crisis?” “Uh, no. I needed help buying a book off Amazon.” Now mind you, I had told her how they monitor my web and phone use, and here I am on the phone and on the Amazon site, thinking this is going to be a quick thing. No. She’s doped up on vicodin, slurring her speech and moving at a snail’s pace. I'm constantly minimizing my computer screen as people pass my cubicle.
I harumphfed, and she got assy and said, “Don’t get huffy with me.” And I said, “I’m at fucking work.” Turns out that book in question? It is not even available yet, and she was too stupid to figure out what PRE-ORDER means.
I blasted her, “Yanno, this could have waited until I came home. I called because you sounded like you were in crisis.” “I didn’t know you were at work! I thought you were still on furlough.” “Uh, no, you don’t listen to me. I haven’t had a Friday furlough in over a year.” And with that, I had her in a “telephone time out” for about 9 weeks before my trip to Turkey. And knowing I had her in a time out, she thinks she’s so essential to my existence, she’s spiting me (LOL!) by putting ME in a time out and refuses to call me, which, as you might imagine, just makes me blissfully happy.
I’ve actually lost track of how many weeks it’s been since I’ve called her. I’m sure it’s now bordering on close to 3 months. HEAVEN!
So the day before we leave for Istanbul, I zap her an email informing her, "just to REMIND YOU, I will be out of the country from 5/9 until 5/21. And oh by the way, Happy Mother's Day, I sent you something. It should arrive in 2 days." The only acknowledgement I got was an email reply consisting of two letters. "Ok."
While we are away, Jeanne Cooper (she of Young and the Restless fame, a soap mom used to watch EVERY SINGLE DAY for about 25 years) died. The Mother's Day gift I sent her? Jeanne Cooper's latest book. I emailed the link from NYTimes to mom saying, "Isn't this weirdly coincidental?" Yet no email responding to that or a thank you for the book.
I come home. No calls nor emails were received. Not even a "hey, how was your trip." Want to know who sent me a lovely email welcoming me home? My saintly mother-in-law. So I wait it out. Mom had it in black and white when I'd be home. Yet no call, and the subtext is that the onus is on ME to call, despite the fact that phones work both ways. No sense in calling Pitiful Pearl only to have her bukkake her misery all over the post-vacation afterglow. So I held off as long as I could. And of course, the suspense was killing me.
I decided one of us needed to be the adult, so I broke down and called about 13 days after returning. As predicted she was cold and distant and wholesale UNINTERESTED. I did not offer up any extra information regarding my trip. I haven't even so much as emailed her a link to my photo album. Why should I? She's jealous of me and the life I have, and jealous of the friendships and relationships I cultivate with others. So of course here comes the first attempt at misery bukkake:
Her: "So, when did you get home?"
Me: "You know very well when we got home."
Her: "You never told me."
Me: "I most certainly did. I emailed you. AND YOU REPLIED."
Not one word was mentioned to me about the state of her big, bloated, haggisy-bear-claw bloated fucked up lymphedema feet and legs or the cellulitis that never goes away. And I didn't bother to ask, because really, I'm not interested. And I do not have any more empathy for someone who is incapable of caring about me. I've reached the point of this relationship of The Law of Diminishing Returns has kicked into hyperdrive. No more fucks shall be given. I'm all outta give a fuck.
So here it is, roughly 24 days since the dreaded phone call. She's still not calling me. And I'm still giddy about it. I was at Sam's Club the other day and noticed the latest Janet Evanovich book is out, so I snapped it up in a moment glistening of a NORMAL, GOOD INTENT, yet remembering this NORMAL impulse is for an ABNORMAL mother. Why should I reward her shitty behavior? It's not the $15 or whatever the book costs, but I'm talking about my CARING, my THOUGHTFULNESS being the reward. In the end, I mailed off the book to a friend who I know will appreciate it.
Dealing with a narcissistic, destructive parent takes constant vigilance in maintaining boundaries. It grinds on me. It's tedious, but it's proactive (for me at least) and it beats the alternative, which is to have my self esteem, self worth and self image be ground down by someone who has been jealous of me my entire life. Fuck her.
This post is pretty much the entire comment I posted over at my friend's blog. And I felt it exhibited a sufficient amount of mom's narcissism to be the "maiden post" of this blog. I plan on digging up old blog posts elsewhere, and slapping it here so I have all the related what-the-fuckery isolated in one spot. So here goes...
One day she was playing a rousing game of Telephone Roulette, calling the house, the cell and my work #, 5 calls in total, leaving identical messages on all three voicemails in her pitiful voice, but not alluding to what the call was about.
I waited it out about an hour before my conscience kicked in, “What if she’s actually in crisis?” So I broke down and called, and of course my work # is veiled so it comes up as “unknown,” so she knew I was at work.
“What was so urgent? Are you in crisis?” “Uh, no. I needed help buying a book off Amazon.” Now mind you, I had told her how they monitor my web and phone use, and here I am on the phone and on the Amazon site, thinking this is going to be a quick thing. No. She’s doped up on vicodin, slurring her speech and moving at a snail’s pace. I'm constantly minimizing my computer screen as people pass my cubicle.
I harumphfed, and she got assy and said, “Don’t get huffy with me.” And I said, “I’m at fucking work.” Turns out that book in question? It is not even available yet, and she was too stupid to figure out what PRE-ORDER means.
I blasted her, “Yanno, this could have waited until I came home. I called because you sounded like you were in crisis.” “I didn’t know you were at work! I thought you were still on furlough.” “Uh, no, you don’t listen to me. I haven’t had a Friday furlough in over a year.” And with that, I had her in a “telephone time out” for about 9 weeks before my trip to Turkey. And knowing I had her in a time out, she thinks she’s so essential to my existence, she’s spiting me (LOL!) by putting ME in a time out and refuses to call me, which, as you might imagine, just makes me blissfully happy.
I’ve actually lost track of how many weeks it’s been since I’ve called her. I’m sure it’s now bordering on close to 3 months. HEAVEN!
So the day before we leave for Istanbul, I zap her an email informing her, "just to REMIND YOU, I will be out of the country from 5/9 until 5/21. And oh by the way, Happy Mother's Day, I sent you something. It should arrive in 2 days." The only acknowledgement I got was an email reply consisting of two letters. "Ok."
While we are away, Jeanne Cooper (she of Young and the Restless fame, a soap mom used to watch EVERY SINGLE DAY for about 25 years) died. The Mother's Day gift I sent her? Jeanne Cooper's latest book. I emailed the link from NYTimes to mom saying, "Isn't this weirdly coincidental?" Yet no email responding to that or a thank you for the book.
I come home. No calls nor emails were received. Not even a "hey, how was your trip." Want to know who sent me a lovely email welcoming me home? My saintly mother-in-law. So I wait it out. Mom had it in black and white when I'd be home. Yet no call, and the subtext is that the onus is on ME to call, despite the fact that phones work both ways. No sense in calling Pitiful Pearl only to have her bukkake her misery all over the post-vacation afterglow. So I held off as long as I could. And of course, the suspense was killing me.
I decided one of us needed to be the adult, so I broke down and called about 13 days after returning. As predicted she was cold and distant and wholesale UNINTERESTED. I did not offer up any extra information regarding my trip. I haven't even so much as emailed her a link to my photo album. Why should I? She's jealous of me and the life I have, and jealous of the friendships and relationships I cultivate with others. So of course here comes the first attempt at misery bukkake:
Her: "So, when did you get home?"
Me: "You know very well when we got home."
Her: "You never told me."
Me: "I most certainly did. I emailed you. AND YOU REPLIED."
Not one word was mentioned to me about the state of her big, bloated, haggisy-bear-claw bloated fucked up lymphedema feet and legs or the cellulitis that never goes away. And I didn't bother to ask, because really, I'm not interested. And I do not have any more empathy for someone who is incapable of caring about me. I've reached the point of this relationship of The Law of Diminishing Returns has kicked into hyperdrive. No more fucks shall be given. I'm all outta give a fuck.
So here it is, roughly 24 days since the dreaded phone call. She's still not calling me. And I'm still giddy about it. I was at Sam's Club the other day and noticed the latest Janet Evanovich book is out, so I snapped it up in a moment glistening of a NORMAL, GOOD INTENT, yet remembering this NORMAL impulse is for an ABNORMAL mother. Why should I reward her shitty behavior? It's not the $15 or whatever the book costs, but I'm talking about my CARING, my THOUGHTFULNESS being the reward. In the end, I mailed off the book to a friend who I know will appreciate it.
Dealing with a narcissistic, destructive parent takes constant vigilance in maintaining boundaries. It grinds on me. It's tedious, but it's proactive (for me at least) and it beats the alternative, which is to have my self esteem, self worth and self image be ground down by someone who has been jealous of me my entire life. Fuck her.
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