It's now officially 13 days since my most recent surgical procedures. I know everyone in the family knows because my mother knows, and well, we all know she is incapable of keeping her yapper shut.
Still, not even so much as a neutral text from my sister inquiring how I'm doing. No doubt this is in retaliation for not attending my niece's "graduation party" (graduation from elementary school).
As much as I maintain my own boundaries for my own sanity, it still manages to sting when my family just shows how incapable they are to show any measure of compassion for anyone other than themselves.
End Note: The only thing I've heard from my sister in the last nearing two months was a text telling me she was coming through my neck of the woods to head to CT for a business related thing, and perhaps we could get together for dinner or face time or whatever. Yet? No follow up text to let me know, "Hey it's not going to happen afterall." Well fuck you. You drive all this way and cannot even be bothered to pop in for a pit stop, piss break, a cup of tea, before continuing on your way back home? Fuck you.
Monday, August 5, 2013
Friday, July 12, 2013
She Opens Her Mouth And Nothing BUT STUPIDITY Comes Out.
In the on-going battle of fortitude (and wits) with my mother, re: the Great Telephone Time Out of 2013, I won this round. Given the last time I called her, which was two weeks after my trip abroad, she was so cold and distant and bitchy, if she wants to speak to me, she can pick up the phone to call me herself. I'm not expending one more iota of energy catering to her demands.
So either her computer was on the blink or the curiosity got the better of her (re: my ongoing medical issues) or what, she broke down and called me (during working hours) and left a vm on my cell, which I did not return the call until I got home, and until I finished eating my dinner. Subtext: When it was convenient FOR ME to do so.
This conversational snippet is from last night's conversation.
In a very real way, not only has she become her father, but she's turned into her father's mother (the one from whom all the "compassion" (sarcasm intended) emanates). Apparently, growing up, hearing her Italian grandmother say in broken English, "ohh... you're so FAT!" is totally lost on her.
FUCK HER!
End Note: as of 2/07/14, her weight has tipped in at a smooth 401 lbs, which was verified, surreptitiously, on the digital scale read out on the bariatric bed she was forced to lay upon during her hospitalization in February 2014.
So either her computer was on the blink or the curiosity got the better of her (re: my ongoing medical issues) or what, she broke down and called me (during working hours) and left a vm on my cell, which I did not return the call until I got home, and until I finished eating my dinner. Subtext: When it was convenient FOR ME to do so.
This conversational snippet is from last night's conversation.
Her: Your cousin came down w/her bf. Oh he's a big boy... A BIG BOY.What really bothers me is this bubble of denial my mother is in about exactly HOW big she really is, and how judgmental she is about any OTHER person of size. Rather than being happy that my fucked up cousin actually found someone, someone who is a decent guy, rather than be HAPPY for my cousin, mom has to find something wrong with him.
Me: Uh. Yeah. I met him in December at the funeral.
Her: But he's a BIG BOY. And he's got diabetes.
Me: Well...She's a BIG GIRL. And your point is?
Her: They're so young, and well... (fortunately for me, she did not choose to regale me ONCE MORE about how diabetes affects male sexual function... AS IF I needed to have that in my collection of memories involving my dad, who had diabetes.)
Me: Well given our family's predisposition to diabetes, it's only a matter of time until SHE has it too.
Her: Huh? What? The connection is bad.
Me: She's a BIG GIRL... it's only a matter of time before SHE has it too.
Her: (rethinking what she was saying, I suppose), Well, BOTH of her grandmother's had diabetes.
Me: My point exactly.
Her: *crickets*
In a very real way, not only has she become her father, but she's turned into her father's mother (the one from whom all the "compassion" (sarcasm intended) emanates). Apparently, growing up, hearing her Italian grandmother say in broken English, "ohh... you're so FAT!" is totally lost on her.
FUCK HER!
End Note: as of 2/07/14, her weight has tipped in at a smooth 401 lbs, which was verified, surreptitiously, on the digital scale read out on the bariatric bed she was forced to lay upon during her hospitalization in February 2014.
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Brilliance from Tiny Buddha
Saw this in my FB feed today, found it fitting to share here:
"When something bad happens you have three choices. You can let it define
you, let it destroy you, or you can let it strengthen you." ~Unknown
Inner Dialogue: Part Deux
"How you speak to your children becomes their inner voice."
I suppose this might be a continuing feature on this blog, given the abundance of material presented to me in my 44 years on this planet.
One of my earliest memories which involve mom's "destructive" nature, involves me and my siblings. Sis and I are about 18 months apart, and sis and brother are "Irish Twins," and 13 months apart. So we were all "little" at the same time.
I recall an outing at an aunt's house. We were playing, "being kids," and perhaps a bit loud. I don't recall anything excessive that day. No possessions broken or big fights getting into. Perhaps we were playing loudly, rowdy. Who knows.
I remember vividly our mother sitting us all down, with a scowl on her face, and informing us ow how we disappointed her, however, didn't just stop there.
"YOU!" (me) "You were a condom that never was!" (Dad alleged early on in their marriage he might be sterile as he had the mumps as a kid. Obviously an incorrect assumption.) Note: My age, approximately 7 or 8.
"YOU!" (baby brother) "You were a diaphragm that didn't work!" Brother's age: 4 or 5.
"AND YOU!" (sis) "You were the ONLY ONE I wanted, AND LOOK AT WHAT I GOT!" (Sis' age 6 or 7).
As I've stated before in a previous entry, I really have no interest on "being there" moments before she "meets her maker," however, if I do happen to be there, I do hope I have the presence of mind before her brain totally flat lines, to whisper in her ear "You did not destroy me. I am loved. And I am happy. Good luck in the next life." or perhaps something more succinct like, "If we ever meet again, remember, I tried to love you."
Having the Emotional Depth of a Dewdrop
I believe the author of Children of the Self-Absorbed put it best about having a self-absorbed, narcissistic destructive parent, that they have the emotional depth of a dewdrop. Sums up my mom so succinctly.
Telephone time out is still in full effect, however, the endless spate of forwarded chain emails to me have rendered ZERO response from me to her, she broke down and emailed me last night. And I decided to blast her with a big honkin' dose of reality.
(Read from the bottom upwards.)
Also, "crazy?" Yeah. I tell you I had a cancer scare, I have a spot on my lung, and a dear friend has STAGE FOUR SQUAMOUS CELL CARCINOMA, the very cancer that destroyed YOUR MOTHER, and all you can muster up is CRAZY? FUCK YOU!
Side note: While normally, I prefer NOT telling my mother things, I did this DUMPTRUCK maneuver two fold, to shut her the fuck down (like she just did with the succinct, "crazy,") and also she will no doubt go into Pitiful Pearl ZOMG mode, and whine to my aunt and my sister about "Did you know about the thyroid thing?" And perhaps, JUST PERHAPS, it might remind them, "OH YEAH... " So it's OBLIQUE at best, but my way of letting them know that I KNOW how they failed me. And in the end, it's not going to matter one iota. I mean, really. Our relationship at this point is primarily just genetic and peripheral at best at this point.
FUCK THEM.
Telephone time out is still in full effect, however, the endless spate of forwarded chain emails to me have rendered ZERO response from me to her, she broke down and emailed me last night. And I decided to blast her with a big honkin' dose of reality.
(Read from the bottom upwards.)
Mom's single word reply to me:Gotta love the insistence that I'm "such a stranger," when she is the one who refuses to pick up the phone. I refuse to pick up the phone, because, let's recap, I DID JUST THAT about a month ago, and she was cold and distant and bitchy to me. So if she wants to be cold and distant and bitchy to me, verbally? She needs to exert her fingers and dial the phone herself.
crazyFrom: Me
Subject: RE:
To: Mom
Date: Tuesday, July 2, 2013, 3:21 AM
Too much going on. First a thyroid cancer scare. Surgery scheduled for 7/23 assuming my consult w/pulmonologist clears me. Have a spot on the lung. They call it a granuloma. Consult w/pulmonologist is 7/8. Not much to talk about. Work and doc appts. On top of this a good friend has been diagnosed with stage four squamous cell carcinoma. So hurry up and wait (for us). Hope you're well and staying cool.
-------- Original message --------
From: Mom
Date: 07/01/2013 12:46 PM (GMT-05:00)
To: Me
Subject:
well this is July when is your surgery? you've made yourself such a stranger. I'm always asking your sister and brother if they heard from you...Be well
Also, "crazy?" Yeah. I tell you I had a cancer scare, I have a spot on my lung, and a dear friend has STAGE FOUR SQUAMOUS CELL CARCINOMA, the very cancer that destroyed YOUR MOTHER, and all you can muster up is CRAZY? FUCK YOU!
Side note: While normally, I prefer NOT telling my mother things, I did this DUMPTRUCK maneuver two fold, to shut her the fuck down (like she just did with the succinct, "crazy,") and also she will no doubt go into Pitiful Pearl ZOMG mode, and whine to my aunt and my sister about "Did you know about the thyroid thing?" And perhaps, JUST PERHAPS, it might remind them, "OH YEAH... " So it's OBLIQUE at best, but my way of letting them know that I KNOW how they failed me. And in the end, it's not going to matter one iota. I mean, really. Our relationship at this point is primarily just genetic and peripheral at best at this point.
FUCK THEM.
Friday, June 28, 2013
Futility Fragment
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.
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.
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!*
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