The Afterbirth

With the birth of the post-family fuckfest wrap up comes the inevitable AFTERBIRTH: The commentary. I've come to these inescapable judgements about my sister:

JUDGEMENTS (in stream-of-consciousness order):

1. She is petty, passive aggressive, hostile, jealous and just wants to find fault with me.

2. She does not invest in our relationship. The only time I see her is if I make the effort to drive 2.5 hours, one way, to NJ. She's been to NYC countless times and never informs me of it in advance so I might plan to take the train in to have a cup of coffee and face time.

3. She cannot be bothered to extend simple courtesy to me in the form of replying to emails, texts or returning telephone calls.

4. She's perhaps even more negative than my mom.

5. She's got a very twisted perspective on reality and events as they happen.

REGARDING HER PETTINESS: 

When I decided I wanted a photo of me and my mom (there aren't all that many and hell, she's not well), I asked my uncle to snap a photo on my phone, and since my aunt was there, I asked her to be in it, because I did not want her to feel excluded. But the photo was snapped FOR ME,ON  MY PHONE.  Apparently, my sister takes issue with this that she and my niece were not invited to be in the photo, and chooses to be offended.  Complained up a a royal blue streak about it to mom.

REGARDING HER PASSIVE AGGRESSION, TWISTED SENSE OF REALITY/POOR MATH SKILLS:

She and my niece walked in, said hello to my mom and my aunt, and pretty much outright shunned me. Then had the nerve to say I shunned HER and my niece.   

She spent the entirety of the party (or while I was there) either in another room or at a distance from me, and at no point in time did she come near me to try to talk. Yet, I'm accused of the same thing.

She complained to my mother that I only come down if that every seven months (inaccurate!). Just this year alone, I've come down four times and was there visiting my sister just three scant weeks ago.   

However, let's have fun with her incorrect math skills, and let's round down my visits to every SIX months, and it fleshes out thusly: 2 visits a year x 13 years = 26 visits, and she's only been to my house a whopping 2x in that time, I'd say SHE is the one with the "visit deficit," NOT me.

IN SUMMATION/CONCLUSION:

I'm not going to any future holiday "parties." 

I haven't decided when to tell my mom that I won't come down for holiday parties anymore (yet I will still make a special trip for HER), though not right now because it's just too much. She's very upset about things as they are, and I don't want to add to it. But no. No further holiday trips will be made. I am tired of being my sister's scapegoat.

IN CONTRAST: 

Regarding my brother...

I could text him at midnight and say call me, and guess what he does? HE CALLS ME.  And in stark contrast to my sister, said very directly to our mom, "If all Maven has is one hour to give me, I'll take it. I'll be happy with my hour."

Also worth mentioning, he and I are trying to make active plans  moving forward. As I said to my brother, "It's obvious she doesn't want me in her life, and I'm done trying. So, I will focus my energies on those people who want me in their life."

I am pretty much upset/devastated about all these developments. My sister is incapable of communicating directly--and is squarely to blame for this weirdness, and I think I've hit my saturation point of "give a fuck" and won't be continuing with this dynamic in an active role.

Post-Familyfuckfest Wrap Up

All things considered, it went well enough.

My plans all fell into place, and I was able to head off to my great-aunt's home so she and my cousin could be the official tasters of the stuffed squid, which they had been very helpful and gracious every step of the way with my questions, etc.

My cousin went to great lengths to make it all very special for me. Setting the table with table cloth, china and flat ware all that were my great grandmother's. And he put out a full array of holiday cookies which over the course of a few weeks he made (and froze) in preparation for Christmas. It was all truly lovely.

Conversation was pleasant and timely and didn't dig too deep into the past, as whatever grudges and bygones are now put to rest given all the parties involved in it directly are no longer among the living. And what is inescapably apparent to me is that no one on the other side of the family either sensed anything was amiss or knew what caused it. And sadder still, in the almost 25 years since my grandmother passed away (one of the parties directly involved), no one had taken charge to try to reunite the family or become re-acquainted. 

So it is totally by chance I found my great aunt, and chose to be social, and got introduced to her youngest son, with whom I've established a friendly email correspondence. And everything has unfolded, I suspect cosmically, in its own time.

Once the squid was tasted (and I got high marks and praise on it, especially given it's my first attempt at it), two hours turned into three, and I needed to head on my way. 

I kept all this information to myself overnight. I wanted the good feeling to last. It was something truly good and lovely, and so utterly NORMAL. I didn't want to tell anyone about it out of fear of someone making a negative out of it.

In keeping with the theme of the previous blog post, and in keeping with her character, NO. My sister never replied back to my voicemails or emails, and even when in my physical presence did she give two shits enough to even ask, "Hey, you were trying to contact me.... what was it about?" Nope.

I was to have breakfast at the hotel with a friend, and that fell through, so I had a nice solo breakfast and took advantage of the time, and headed to the store for some last minute items, and headed to mom's house for some spare time before the party.  

I came in the house with a new cowl necked top for her, I thought it festive enough and in her favorite color, and thought she might wear something new since she was hosting a house full of company. She gave a glance, didn't seem all that interested in it. And at first it got shuffled off to the side, and before you know it, it found its way to the bottom of a pile of pillows, and now a wrinkled, forgotten mess. MONEY WELL SPENT! Some people are just unappreciative fucks. Oh well. Luckily it wasn't pricey--but I could have bought another skein of yarn with the cost of the blouse.

Audrey was neutral to well behaved. And I broke the news that not only did I visit her aunt (the one she's groused about in the past about not hearing from her), but that I also stayed at a hotel last night too. I just needed time to regroup after such a long drive, and being ON at the aunt's, and let's face it, I cannot convince myself to work myself up into a lather hosting a party in someone else's house. But hey, every one else feeds this delusion that she's living independently, when it's not the case. My aunt was playing step-and-fetch-it and seething the entire time.

My sister and niece walked in and acknowledged everyone--except for me. I just sat there cool as a cuke, crocheting. Very weird and awkward indeed. My brother was unable to come out to the party due to the surgical procedure he had earlier in the week.

It was weird and awkward and noisey as fuck. And now it's over. Audrey is blissed out that I made it. Which no doubt means my sister is seething about that.

I had a chat with my aunt afterwards about how unwelcome I feel around my sister, and it's obvious she doesn't want me involved in her life or her kid's. She's unwilling or incapable of articulating it, and in the interim there's this lingering weirdness.  

If I avoid everyone, I'm damned.
If I try to be there, I'm damned.

My relationship with my brother is so straightforward there is none of this garbage. And hell, I feel more of an "aunty" to the kids of friends than I do to my own nieces. 

The party itself was nice enough, but loud and anxiety inducing, and I powered through until I got a text from the husband that said, "Time to come home." And I got myself together, got as far as the door and realized I almost went home wearing a pair of house slippers of my mother's. My younger cousin scampered off to retrieve my shoes, and in doing so, I thanked him and quipped, "I feel like Cinderella!"

The drive home, long as it may be, was about as problem free as possible, and I managed to get home in about two hours. 

Along with the birth of anxiety riddled family fuckfest is the inevitable AFTER birth, the GI distress in the form of constipation. Jury is still out on whether an impaction is in my near future.

Waiting for the other poo (shoe) to drop...

Coming Soon! Family Holiday Fuckfest, 2014

Subtitle: Let no good deed go unpunished.

My mom's family's holiday party is this weekend. So, I've been working out the logistics of that: finishing up MY sweater I hope to wear, gathering what few gift items I will be giving, planning out when to buy the supplies for the stuffed squid I plan on providing as my foodstuff-contribution, figuring out when I am going to be able to shoe horn time at the mechanic for an oil change/fluid top off/tire inspection. And last but not least, schedule a reservation at a hotel, so I don't have to make that horrible drive down a touch-and-go in one day. 125 miles one way (2.5 hours on a GOOD day) + bifocals + driving alone + returning home at night + thanklessness = Regret and reluctance.

My fleeting initial thought was, I would invite my (almost 13 year old) niece for a girl's night out, sleep over, since I rarely see her. And if the hotel had an indoor pool, all the better. I had been waffling about inviting my niece, as I like to have ME time, and it's a long drive to get there (hence the hotel room), etc.  Anyway. I can stop worrying about inviting her. My sister's inaction pretty much has decided for me.

It's very upsetting for me, because I feel the seething resentment, percolating beneath the surface, beneath the veneer of "cordial enough" from my sister, because (yes, there I go again,  beating this dead horse) of the fact I live so far away and am NOT THERE. Never meeting me halfway (even if she's a scant 30 minutes from my house when she goes to NYC), never returning my calls or texts or emails... only on her terms, when she feels like it.

To illustrate/recap part of the passive-aggressive loop of behavior, I'm my niece's godmother, and apparently that means nothing. Because the one thing beyond the baptism that I KNOW a godmother should be present for, the First Communion, I was excluded from that--and only know it took place, informed in a very non-chalant, matter-of-fact way. It's been a few years, and it still irks me. Don't include me? Fine. Don't get assy if I opt out of things, then!

Last December when I visited (and pretty much exploded with rage at my mother about everything--GEE THANKS WELLBUTRIN FOR THAT!), I found out that my sister has changed her will and changed who gets guardianship of my niece should anything befall my sister and her husband. And I am no longer going to be her guardian. Could you imagine how devastating it would be for me to not only grieve for my sister (if/when she dies) but also be sucker punched at the same time, and find out about this? How is this not passive aggressive?

Last year I said to my mom (among other things): how I found it utterly hilarious how everyone resents the fact I'm never around, and everyone acts like they, and they alone, are entitled to feel disappointed or hurt or whatever about it. I'm supposed to just accept everyone's limitations or inability or unwillingness to meet me halfway, and fuck me and my limits. My focus is on my life with the Maharajah. The singular person I can count on in this life is my husband. He's there. He steps up. He doesn't give me STUFF, he gives of HIMSELF. I have a finite amount of energy. I work. I have a husband and a household and a life of my own over a hundred and twenty-five miles away. So whatever energy I have after working all day and taking care of the household shit? Yeah. My energy goes towards HIM and the life we have. Everyone else is living their lives how they see fit, and I am doing the same, yet I am vilified.

Oh, last December, I worked myself up into such a tizzy. My mother actually teared up watching it. I think she was scared and upset seeing me that upset. Again, I go from a pretty mild baseline to HOLY SHIT EMOTIONAL EXPLOSION, and seems like it comes out of no where, when really, I'm such a slow boil that when I finally do build up enough pressure--I pretty much blow a gasket. (And no, I'm not going to sleep over my mom's house--familiarity breeds contempt. I find it too stressful for me, and to be fair, my mother is in fragile health and doesn't need a repeat performance of last December's rage.)

I am not going to be like a puppy nipping at her toes to call me. I tried. Thrice. And I'm not about to text my niece--because she, too, does not reply to my texts. I'm hurt and angry, and angry with myself too. Angry that I even dare to care anymore. Next month, the niece will turn 13. She's old enough to have a relationship with me if she wants, and obviously--she does not want. I am not about to force myself onto people who clearly don't want to spend time with me.

So. I am reverting back to my original plan. Hotel. Me. Downtime. Saturday I will probably head out early first Saturday a.m., to get the car maintenance done. Then head to my great-aunt's house to bestow some of the prototype batch of stuffed squid, to see if it passes the muster. I am sure she will enjoy the visit--and there's a built in limit to the visit, as she will go to mass Saturday evening. Works for me.  Then I'll head to the shore, perhaps I'll find a way to fit in a visit with my high school bio teacher--provided he returns a call. Otherwise, I'll head further south, check in at the hotel, get a manicure and pedicure and/or go to see a movie of my choosing. Maybe take a hot bubble bath at the hotel--then have breakfast with my friend on Sunday a.m., then head to the holiday fuckfest, and head home, promptly at 5 or 6, if I am lucky.

Good Times, Audrey.

Aunt was down to visit Audrey on Weds and to help set up for Thanksgiving.

After food prep, they ordered a white pie for dinner. Aunt decides to grab the poultry shears and cuts two slices. Mom recoils a bit and says, "I cut my toenails with those shears," then goes into detail about, "look at my feet, how do you think I broke that one side of the shears?" 

Aunt is disgusted and in shock Audrey would keep those shears in her flatware drawer. "Those two slices are yours," and of course, aunt finds this utterly revolting. While mom is telling me this, I am disgusted, shrieking out "Jesus Christ! Oh god, your toenails are HIDEOUS! Jesus Christ!!!!" 

It is at this point in the story, when you're grossed out and in shock, and disgusted about toenail-meet-pizza that mom reveals you've been HAD, that it is a joke, which just makes you laugh in relief as hard as you were experiencing disgust. 

Remember in April when I discovered used insulin syringes in that bushel of books I almost dropped off at Goodwill? Yeah. I'm not thoroughly convinced she does NOT clip her hideous toenails with those shears. Anything's possible. 

End note: While Audrey would no doubt never allow me to photograph her fucked up feet, I did try to Google image search "diabetes, feet, cellulitis" for a fitting image that came close to capturing the what-the-holy-ever-loving-fuck that is her feet, and well, I shall spare you THAT image. And right about now, I'm regretting the choice to look for a suitable photo to stand in for or represent her feet. My abdomen is all kinds of twitchy, in that pre-puke kind of twitchy. I don't recommend Google image searching that shit.

My Stalker: Part 15

This is a micro-report. Nothing really to report other than zero interactions with him directly. I haven't even seen him, as most nights I leave before he moves to the front desk, and on the one night he was there, I went out the back door. So, status quo has been maintained.

When I asked the Haitian doorman today if there's anything to report. And he replied, "Oh! You're driving him crazy!" I replied, "*I* am doing nothing. He's driving HIMSELF crazy!" 

So while there is no new interactions with the stalker, he is still there like a terrier with a bone, chewing on the fact that he is now on the outside of my sphere of give-a-fuck.

Fall 2014 Family Fuckfest Tour: Full on Rumination

Tueday's session with the therapist highlighted the fucked-upped-ness of my mom agreeing with my stalker, then a brief update on the stalker situation itself (inert, I suspect the Haitian door man told him to back off or else I'd contact their manager), and then of course, the full on existential angst I now find myself in, which has me reliving my grief of the loss of my dad all over again, and made me (temporarily, at least) question who, exactly, I was to him, as I went my whole life thinking we were confidantes. 

It is very possible dad took some secrets to his grave--one of which may have directly impacted my opinion on who had access to him post-op, and eventually at his funeral, casting me as a cruel bitch. Still trying to sort out the timeline of things. And I'll try to stay on point in this blog post, and try to limit the babble. 

The drive to the shore was uneventful. For a "pre-family fuck fest" blast of dopamine, I stopped off at Delicious Orchards for some cheesey stuffs for the Thanksgiving I will be hosting in secret at my home, and four pounds of coffee beans, oh and a still-warm no-sugar added apple pie for mom. A quick pitstop before heading on my way. 

I called Audrey as I arrived at the orchards, and said (verbatim): 
Me: "Wash your face, put in your teeth. I'm coming for coffee." I don't know if she was put off or if she thought I was joking or what. 
Her: (real agitated) "What what?" I just went silent. 
Me: "I am coming for coffee, will be there in an hour and a half, get ready." 
Her: "Are you serious?" 
Me: "If you don't want me to visit, say something now, and I'll spend more time with my sister and brother." 

I show up, put a pot of coffee up (I bought some amaretto flavored coffee for her, had it ground for drip--and even bought some half and half, because even if she had it in house, who knows how close it is to expiration--because, RECAP! She has been known to eat rotten food or drink spoiled milk.) I then informed her, "In order to visit all three of you, I have to stick to a schedule." And with that, I set the timer on my cell phone to go off in an hour and a half. She got the lion's share of time, as my siblings each got an hour and ten minutes. (Mind you, when I told my therapist this, he yelped out a bit of laughter and said, "You set a timer?" To which I proudly and firmly said, "Hell yes!" 

I even brought two baby bells and some crackers, and ate my first mini meal of the day then and there. Sat and crocheted. And there was a moment where I could tell I wasn't interesting enough for her, and she turned on the t.v. I sat there crocheting and keeping an eye on the clock, and even short shrifted her 15 minutes because, hey, I surprised her with a visit, albeit a short one, and she can't be focused on the RIGHT NOW without having the t.v. blaring? Yeah. I folded up my stuff, tucked it in the bag, and voila the alarm went off. I attempted to call my sister, and it went to voice mail. Mom: "You're just going to pop in there without calling?" Me: "Yes. And if she doesn't answer the door, no problem, I'll head to my brother's."

I arrive at my sister's and realize that none of the keys on my ring are for her door. I think she lost her keys and had the locks all redone a while back, and now I cannot remove the keys without being at mom's house first as one of them is for mom's front door. I knock on the door, and no one comes to the door. I know my sis and niece are in there, and I can hear what I suspect is a vacuum going. There she is, in full on OCD glory, knee horribly swollen and in pain, there she is, vacuuming, and tidying the house, as she's going to have a housekeeper come in the next day for a deep clean. (I don't understand this at all.)

Anyway, I waited until the vacuum stopped, and I knocked again. My niece answered the door, seemed surprised to see me, but not in an exceeding amount of surprise. Her face lit up, but no hugs or kisses, and then seemed distracted or uninterested. (And of course, my post-visit text, "Hope you enjoyed the visit!" went unacknowledged/unanswered.)

My sister of course, was hell bent on tidying up while I was there, which I could care less about. It was cluttered but not HOARDER level cluttered, but at the core of it all, the house is HYGIENIC, unlike my brother's house which is tidy, but filthy. We sat and bullshitted for a while. I had two sweaters which were a work in progress (sleeves need to be done, and buttons affixed, but other than that, the bodies of the sweaters are done), and demanded my niece try them both on to see how they fit, and then she had to choose which one she liked better. Once it was decided, I said, "Good. Act surprised when you see it at Christmas.") Again, I set a timer and when it went off, time to head to my brother's house.

The timing for my brother's visit was perfect, as TheYentaBeast was heading to temple to say kaddish. I said, "Oh. Sorry for your loss, and sorry but when you arrive home, I'll probably be gone, as I need to leave by 5 in order to pick up the husband at the train." Short and sweet, I said what needed to be said, and to be honest, this was much more than she did for me when my dad died. Fortunately, she did not approach me or try to get a hug out of me, because let's not get crazy! I have not lost my mind. I'm extending condolences, not looking for a warm and fuzzy moment with a cold and prickly bitch.

I sat and bullshitted with my brother for about an hour, about his defibrillator, how he's going next week to find out about getting one surgically implanted, etc. And how all this might end up costing him his CDL and by extension, his job. About fifteen minutes into the visit, who should call on my cell? AUDREY. And I answered the phone thusly:

Me: What's the deal, woman? An hour and a half was not enough time? You're interrupting my brother's hour of face time!"
Her: I wanted to know if you saw your sister.
Me: Yes. This call could have waited until later. Bye.

Brother and I chatted about mom and the stalker, and how she AGREES with the stalker. And I reiterated, "It's just like you said, she opens her mouth and nothing but stupid falls out." He said, "What do you expect? She "friended" your molester on FB, and after I reminded her of you being molested by him, that wasn't enough for her to unfriend him. She eventually unfriended him later, only after he attacked her vanity by saying outright it's deceptive to use a 30 year old photo as her profile picture." 

And touching on that, the molestation (and to clarify, I was molested twice, once by this cousin, and once by my mother's youngest brother) the only time my mother showed any interest in us or anyone, was in anything remotely sexual--so perhaps it's no wonder I was molested twice, and for a time was quite a super slut, no surprise my brother is addicted to porn--with zero self awareness about appropriateness of discussing it in mixed company, or that my sister, I believe, is sexually repressed. We're all damaged.

Then! The existential shit hit the fan. My brother told me about how our dad's youngest sister, the dope-addled one, reached out to him via FB I guess in an attempt to mend fences or have some sense of family or whatever. In doing so, talked smack about our father, mother, me... whatever. And she dropped enough information that was timely enough to give both my brother and I enough pause to believe that it was plausible that dad and his dope-addled sister *might have been* in the process of reconciling before he died.

I'm still trying to flesh out the timeline, because, as of 2004, dad had forwarded me an email from her, which was just nothing more than a hate filled screed. Whatever information she mentioned then was pertinent to then, and not necessarily timely in 2008 when he died. I suspect they were trying to reconcile prior to her screed in 2004.

She harbors a lot of hostility towards me, as with dad's blessing, I did reply to the screed on his behalf, given how ill he was. Though, this was the unenlightened me grasping the low hanging fruit. The best thing to have done at the time would have been to just simply hit the delete button and not give this nutjob any further access. 

But there is that lingering doubt, wondering if in the four years leading up to dad's death he was or wasn't trying to reconcile in private. A lot of what was in the screed dates back to our great-grandmother dying in 1988. The screed is now 10 years old. And dad has been dead six years. It's like every time she gets a snootful of blow or gets half a load on with booze, she decides to try to reach out to someone, to continue to point out the assorted injustices she's endured or to rewrite ancient history and paint herself as the misunderstood victim, and what a bitch I am, etc.

She's an addict. For the most part, they are manipulators and cons. In the FB message, Dope-addled Aunty blames ME me squarely for her lack of access to dad in the hospital, as well as barring her from the funeral. AS IF I wielded that much influence over my family.

Bottom line is, I was asked if I thought she should have access to dad or to the funeral, and going on the information as I knew it, which was the last interaction was the screed of 2004, I said no. But everyone had an opinion. And the decision was made as a family unit by consensus. Yet, she hates me and blames me entirely for her inability to say goodbye. 

That aside, the drive home from my brother's is 2.5 hours, and once I was about a half hour from home, I called him on my cell and put it on speaker phone and continued to talk about the message on FB, I found her hatred of me disturbing, because to be honest, since my reply to the screed? I have not given her a moment's thought. We share DNA and nothing else, and I don't want to participate in this rage filled circle jerk.

My brother talked me out of the notion of emailing Doper-aunty to clarify things. I think the prudent thing is to double check with "C" to find out if there was an 11th hour reconciliation going on, at all, or if all of Doper-aunty's ramblings were the ramblings of a drunk, hell bent on settling some great score. I think once I see "C" next month, I might have my answer to that. I just want some context. Though it is entirely possible the drugs and drink hare distorting the events as Doper-Aunty is reporting them.

I am not an intentionally cruel person. It tears me up to think that IF dad and Doper-Aunty were in the act of reconciling, my opinion IN PART played into her direct inability to say good bye to him.

Also? Much in the way where I lived my life thinking "I'm my father's daughter..." and then when he died, I was like, "if he doesn't exist anymore, who am I?" I now am devastated at the thought that all my life, or at least from age 15 forwards until his death, I always thought we were confidantes, that there were no secrets between us. Initially it tore me up at the thought that he could have been reconciling with his sister, and he did not tell me. He did not tell any of us. And I need to find out from "C" what her version of the story is, to see if he told her, or if all the stuff mentioned in the FB message is OLD SHIT not stuff right before he died.

Existentially, I was devastated at the notion that I wasn't who I thought I was all my life. I feel like some "enforcer" brought in to fight his fight (in that email screed) yet, wasn't privvy to the reconciliation. He trusted me with the knowledge that if he pulled through the surgery, he was going to leave my mom. Yet, he didn't trust me with the information that he was reconciling with Laurie.

Ultimately, Doper-Aunty is not to be trusted, is potentially dangerous, and is looking to hurt anyone and everyone she can. I fixated a bit on the bruised ego, and wondered why he didn't trust me enough with this information--this, of course, could all be moot, depending on what "C" says. Three more weeks until I see her face to face.

Nexus of Two Sociopaths

So of course, I had my weekly call with my mother (who was just about in masturbatorial glee that she had something new to report--my brother's father-in-law passed away on Friday). And during the call, she wanted a recap/update of the stalker situation. And of course, she had to open her mouth and let the stupid just tumble out: she agrees with my stalker's assessment that I am domineering.

Ironically, she kept insisting this, despite me saying that I lack the give-a-fuck whether anyone agrees with my point of view or not. "But you are you know... you have those tendencies..." I have absolutely ZERO DOUBT that if I were ever raped, she'd say I deserved it.

Still trying to stifle the urge to fixate on this. The irony is pungent. And well, at least she's consistent. I mean, I was molested by my own uncle, and her response (and my grandmother's) was to accuse me of being a slut.

PS: I was planning on going there for a visit tomorrow/Veterans Day because I won't be there for Thanksgiving. (Actually plan on visiting with her, set a timer, go see my sister if she's home as she's recovering from knee surgery, set a timer, and then go see my brother/do a shiva call before heading home.)

A shot of bourbon and a hard cider chaser awaits me when I return home tomorrow.