It's Been a While: Still Between A Rock And A Hard Place

Even in INACTION there is action. Even without a post, there is always that anxious uncertainty that exists between crises, and where there's a crisis, there's the opportunity for more bullshit.

Last Friday, my cousin got married. Mind you, I wouldn't consider myself super-close to my cousin. We're first cousins, but there's a considerable age difference. And we somewhat grew distant about 10-15 years back where she tried to make some trouble between me and her mom (which fortunately got resolved QUICK). But it was important to my aunt (the bride's mom) that I be at the wedding, and my aunt has always been good to me, so I ensured that I went.

And as one does under these circumstances, I looked forward to the event. I bought my shoes a year ago. While in India in January, we bought not one, but two suits, so the husband would be properly attired. I got my hair done. I showed up. I looked happy to be there, and from what my aunt said, I looked stunning. 

And I thought perhaps the occasion of our cousin getting married would be enough for my sister to finally end this bullshit that exists between us. But no. No such luck. I hugged my niece for the first time in perhaps a year or so, as she was in the receiving line, thinking that might be a catalyst for her to interact with me at the reception. Again--no such luck. 

Pan forward a few scant days--

This week my mom took not just one, but TWO tumbles, the second of which was bad enough where she was so out of it she couldn't click her Life Alert pendant, and she needed to be taken to the hospital.  

I last spoke with her on Tuesday morning (and she sounded normal for her; lucid and alert, and apparently between doses of percocet as she wasn't slurring her speech), and allegedly she fell Tuesday evening, basically putting her hand out to break her fall, and in the end she destroyed her television (her constant companion). She was okay enough to call her housekeeper to come and help her bathe Wednesday morning, and I guess sometime after the housekeeper left, mom caught her slipper on the carpet and fell, hitting her head on her fridge, and injuring her shoulder.

Considering the fact she hit her head coupled up with her wonky glucose levels PLUS the fact I haven't spoken to my sister in 2.5 years, trying to get a handle on what exactly caused her to fall, as well as the timeline of everything has been super vague. What I detailed in the previous paragraph is the only timeline that makes sense. 

As I'm typing this, I now have the mental image of her laying on the floor for who knows how long really, before she had the presence of mind to press her Life Alert pendant--or did she call my sister? I have no idea.  

So, back to Wednesday, and back to the timeline of let's say "sometime either before or after calling my sister or pressing her Life Alert pendant"--

I'm at work and as I normally do, at 1 p.m. I got up to go for a walk during my lunch hour, run some errands, try to boost my seratonin as it was a beautiful day.  As I returned to my office building and was about to tuck into some soup, and I opened up my cell, and noticed a text from my aunt, "Mom's in hospital. Call me."  I noticed my aunt also left a voicemail, which detailed among other things, that my sister had attempted to call me but is convinced I blocked her (which is true).

I listened to the voicemail about 2:30 I discovered the blocked callers section of my voicemail, and there was a solitary voicemail from my sister, totally devoid of any warmth or any other emotion to be direct. It went thusly, "Mom fell, she's in the hospital. I thought you'd want to know."

At around 4 p.m., I zapped a text, "Thanks for letting me know," and at that time, I unblocked her number so if she wanted to reply, she could.

At 4:57 p.m., I got the following text from my brother, on behalf of my sister (yet, he's too stupid to realize he's NOT remaining neutral):

Please forward to your sister. You can let Maven know that I will not be providing any further updates to Anyone that she can reach out to you or Melon or god forbid her own mother. I can understand she wants to make herself unavailable for me to reach, I attempted calls and messages before I realized she blocked me. I tried to reach out to her right after you. Let her know that my daughter will never be a part of her life. I will make sure if it now. No more saying to my daughter it's between my sister and I she is your aunt don't avoid her or get involved. Fuck that line drawn.  

Clarification: She tried calling me 2x. The first voicemail was nothing but a hang up; second call was the only voicemail she left.  So, while yes, technically 2 = "attempted calls" as she stated in her text, beyond this, there is no other indication she tried calling me at home or at work etc. Two calls doesn't = anything above the bare minimum required--I still don't understand all this simmering hatred--other than the obvious, that I'm not behaving how she expects me to behave, and for that, she can roundly and soundly fuck herself. 

Carry on...

Anyway. I shared a screen cap of the text I sent my sister (which shows the time, and shows zero reply) and said, "Not only did I send a text and acknowledge her, I unblocked her so she can reply if she wants to. So. Moving forward, I'd like to keep a line of communication open WITH YOU (my brother), however, moving forward, if our sister has anything to say TO or ABOUT me and expects you to convey whatever hatred to me, I'd just assume you "yes" her to death and just fucking delete her message. I'm done with her." 

To cover all bases, my aunt, of whom I was in constant communication with all day Wednesday (and thereby did not see the need to overwhelm my sister with YET ONE MORE call for a status update--as history has proven she gets asshole-ish even if people DO CALL out of concern, if TOO MANY people call, she doesn't like that either (fuck her!)---where was I? Oh yes... to cover all bases, my aunt, of whom I was in communication with all day about mom, I made a point of informing her of what was going on behind the scenes, and I provided screen caps of the text I sent, informed her (too) that I unblocked my sister, and then was REWARDED with that lovely text (and yes--I shared that too). I said, "I don't expect you to intervene on my behalf, but I need you to know what's going on--especially since we were talking all day about mom, and coming up with a plan between us, as far as who will be at the hospital on what days."

So I'm sharing all this, as it's been pretty much radio silence for a while, and this is the only update worth posting. I'm trying to mentally steel myself in preparation of making that thankless trip to the Jersey Shore, to see my mother in the hospital yet again. 

Considering my own limitations and my own anxieties about things, I know things are fucked up if my husband has come up with a plan, and will go with me, and we'll stay at a hotel (where it's safe, and has a t.v.), visit on Saturday, and I'll run by around 10 or 11 on Sunday, before heading home.  Beyond this, I don't know what else to say or how to feel, but I'm trying to remain focused on not LEANING IN on the impulse to wish my sister didn't exist anymore. Not that my thoughts possess any kind of great cosmic power (and IF it DID? PLEASE UNIVERSE, LET ME HIT THE LOTTERY!). 

I wish I could say I am numb. 
I wish I could say that after the last 2.5 years, I'm pretty much dead inside. 
I wish I could say that all of my sister's words in her text don't hurt me anymore--they just make me sad. 

I'm no longer angry. 
I'm sad and embarrassed that this is what our relationship has become. 
I am not in a position to fix this.

I have spent the greater portion of this week meditating in front of a Ganesha statuette, hoping for some clarity on how I might be able to help things indirectly, and of course, being worried about my mom, and of course, carrying on conversations with my father who has been deceased eight years. 

Three things I am grateful for:

1. My husband who remains my rock;
2. My father being dead--he's liberated from this cycle of hostility; and
3. This new family drama is taking my attention/focus away from other aspects of my life that make me miserable--so perhaps it's giving me some perspective, and that, I guess should be #4 to the list.


Thanks to anyone who is reading this and gives a shit.

End note: At first we thought mom had a TIA or a mini stroke that contributed to one of the two falls; turns out it was glucose related. And at first it appeared as if she dislocated her shoulder; however, it turns out there's a fracture involved. Either way you slice it, dislocation or a fracture, it amounts to the same thing: she cannot support her own body weight and use her walker, so it's back to Shady Pines for her for a while. 

In Other News/Weirdness

This weekend, I happened to look at my phone and realized during the weekend some time, my sister (remember her? The one who has been ignoring me since 12/17/14?) tried to Facetime me on my phone. No message left. 

And no, I'm not taking the bait.  

Unrelated/related note: Our cousin's bridal shower is next month, so the mind reels at the possibilities of what this means, if anything.  

Jury is still out on whether it was an intentional or unintentional thing.

Thanksgiving 2016 & Unrelated Stalker Tidbit

I'd be remiss if I didn't make note of what transpired on Thanksgiving this year. 

No. I did not go to my extended family fuckfest; so everything I'm going to share is second hand.

The cliffnotes is that my aunt worked like a servant while my sister and sister-in-law both sat on their asses and did nothing. 

My sister was overheard saying, "If aunt wants to be the boss of Thanksgiving, let her." And she proceeded to sit and leisurely eat cheese and crackers, photographing them and facebooking it.

My sister-in-law (aka the YentaBeast) was overheard saying "I sit over here (far wall) so no one expects me to get up and help."

So yeah. Good times. Mom can't walk so she can't carry heavy trays of hot lasagne into the dining room. And my aunt has (knee) issues of her own, and yet, she's worked like a servant, while everyone sat on their asses. 

My aunt then decided (I honestly don't know why) to make a video clip, panning the room, "Let's wish Maven a happy thanksgiving!" Very few people faced the camera, no one smiled, and no one wished me a happy thanksgiving. Which is fine. As my aunt panned my sister-in-law, the YentaBeast, crossed her arms and turned away (so jury is out on whether YB did this to avoid being recorded due to her facial disfigurement due to the NF; or if she was shunning my aunt, or was shunning ME).  Meanwhile, my sister sat there with her arms crossed over her chest, staring dead-eyed ahead. 

WHY my aunt chose to share this with me? I haven't a clue. It was so full of ambivalence, and had all of the festivity of a post-funeral repast. And pretty much summed up and validated why I no longer go to these things.  I mean, if you're not going to be happy or thankful or even remotely in a holiday mood, why bother?

The moment my sister and my sister-in-law* left, my aunt broke down in tears right there at the dining table.

*Odd alliance they now have, as my sister does not like my sister-in-law. And it's getting to the point now where you need a score card to find out who is on my sister's shit list. Two years ago when mom was hospitalized, my sister restricted YentaBeast's access at the hospital to see mom. So to see them now somewhat aligned with each other is par for the course, and again, I'm glad not to be dealing with either of them.

Bottom line: After experiencing my sister's cruelty directly, my aunt won't be attending next year's Thanksgiving. Or at least that is what she says NOW. Let's wait and see if she fulfills on that statement a year from now.

*************************************

So. The stalker.

Yes. It's been pretty quiet regarding the Stalker. As of September 22nd, I've been ignoring him for two years and three months (minus 1 day). I've been ignoring him for much longer (perhaps 3x as much time) as I spent cultivating that unfortunate friendship.

As I work in a high rise, there are many people I come in contact with from other offices. People I know either just by face, and some I know by first name. In this case, this one guy, Robert, I know in the course of schmoozing. And well, now I no longer linger at the front desk to schmooze with the Stalker nor his flying monkey, Jean, aka "The Haitian Dude." 

So last week I ran into Robert on a street corner and he walked with me back to the building. And he asked about how or why I no longer schmooze with Jean. And I said how I've been ignoring the Stalker for years, and I've had to cut Jean out entirely because even though I have stated, very firmly in very direct terms that I no longer wish to speak of the Stalker, Jean INSISTS on working him in conversation. And I've had to throw the baby out with the bath water. That to fully shut the Stalker down, I've had to circumvent talking to Jean.

So yesterday, I happened upon the same street corner, and Robert was there again. And we walked to the office as is our norm. He asked about how or why I was no longer speaking to The Stalker. And I gave him a synopsis, but by no means did I elaborate too deeply, but did manage to say "He's a sociopath, and he's been stalking me, and he talks shit about everyone, PLUS, he's a brown-on-brown racist." Robert looked at me and validated every last word and then added his two cents, "The stalker is perhaps EVEN WORSE than what you think."

I then asked Robert, "Since I obviously can't ask Jean, I've noticed the Stalker has been absent from the front desk--could I be so lucky? Did he quit or was he fired?" And turns out neither is the case. The Stalker is out on medical leave for a surgery to fix what was botched over two years ago--during the surgery (after which I visited him in the hospital, and seems to be the tipping point regarding the "familiarity breeds contempt").

It shouldn't matter all that much to me what Robert said, but it DID mean a lot. It validated my experience. It validated my judgment in dumping him out of my circle of influence. A man validating me. Saying, "Yes, you were right. You were victimized. Yes. He is a monster."  And ultimately, validating that little niggling thought or worry, that I might have just imagined it all--and I haven't.

Daddy Issues

Perhaps it's convenient to blame my dad for being victimized. My mother's brother (2 yrs older than me) and his friend both groped me (I was 13) in my swimming pool; and the following year, a cousin of my mother's (7 yrs older than me) did that, plus I believe digitally raped me.

I remember being at my mother's other brother's home and blurting out about the former groping me, which was met with me being slut shamed and called a trouble making slut, while others present sat there, slack jawed and silent.  I remember this event with crystalline detail. My uncle's youngest daughter was born (after an ectopic pregnancy). My aunt served her trademark "deep dish biscuit pie." It was hazy, humid, and July or August. 

I remember this was the last time we visited my uncle's home in Scotch Plains.

I remember how it seemed even my brother, who was ten at the time, seemed to know about the degree I was violated, yet nothing was done about it, and dad didn't seem all too concerned until my brother antagonized the cousin and the cousin brandished a hunting knife, and that was the last summer we all went to my great-aunt Millie's beach house during the summer.

I remember how at the age of 16 after being slut shamed and still being a virgin, I went out and intentionally lost my virginity, since I was being accused of it, I might as well be DOING IT. (Lame argument, but fuck, I was 15 going on 16).

I remember vividly how neither of my parents bothered talking to me about sex or how to protect myself (whether from pregnancy or rape); yet, I remember how disappointed my dad was to learn of this, and went out in the backyard and started beating the piss out of his maroon Duster--then later going out there with a plunger to plunge out the dents.  And of course, dad knew about this, because my mother couldn't keep her yapper shut.

I remember how my mother, I suppose attempting to project responsibility onto someone else, in this case the mother of the boy with whom I had sex, his mother was an RN and worked full time, and she wasn't home, so yes, easy to vilify a woman who isn't on the scene--unlike a clueless, out of touch, self-absorbed stay at home mother (like MY mother).

I remember how only a few years ago (upon learning of the death of this boy's mother), I reminded my mother of how she embarrassed me by calling that boy's mother, trying to pin the blame on the boy or his mother for what happened, and again, I was slut shamed by the boy's mother. "Did I really do THAT? Why would I do that?" This was met with my reply, "I don't have a fucking clue."

I remember how the year after losing giving away disposing my virginity, I started seeing a man who was 7 years older than me. I recall how utterly shitty my relationship with my mom was, and how both my parents acquiesced and let me cross state lines into PA for a weekend, so we could attend a wedding (and bone in this guy's grandmother's house). Only recently has my mother been told by someone who knew what was going on back then, that was child neglect, by her doing nothing at all to prevent it, she was complicit in it (statutory rape). (Why did this someone keep their yapper shut all those years ago? I don't have a clue. IMHO, they are just as complicit as my parents.)

I remember in 2003? being someplace I suppose I  shouldn't have been, dropping off food for a friend, as they were not well, and as I pulled off my pull-over windbreaker, it was still over my head (like a bag of sorts), he assaulted me. I was too disoriented and in shock to do anything about it.  It's only NOW (thirteen years later) that I am able to process this as what it was, and what it was, was not consented.

My father SHOULD have been my protector, and yet, failed. Obviously, failed. In the case of my uncle and my cousin, he did nothing, whether beat the piss out of either of them or file charges against that cousin. He did nothing. I don't know to what degree he knew of everything at the time, and I held back a good lot of what was going on at the time, primarily because my mother was at her height of control and abuse, and because I knew nothing would be done. My mother no doubt would have said "I asked for it," and her mother was the one who called me a trouble making slut. 

I remember how when my first marriage imploded, all my father had for me were tears.

I remember also how when I was going to get married to the Maharajah and travel the world, my dad told me that if I ever got kidnapped (while traveling, I guess?), there's nothing he can do.

Come October, my father will be gone eight years. I need him. But what I really need is the person he should have been or could have been, but was either unwilling or outright unable to be.

And I think of the Maharajah, and how in so many ways he encompasses good qualities my dad had. He's a good provider and partner, and I think of things like him doing my delicates/brassieres or him going out on a snowy day to clear off the car, these are little things that dad would do--but I feel so guilty or selfish that I want more. I want to feel protected. I want to feel like the Maharajah would be the man I needed my dad to be. I need him to be a dragon slayer, if I need him to be.

Having Normal Impulses For Abnormal People

Last time I saw my mother was December, so we're now into the seventh month without seeing her--this is one of the longest times I've gone without a visit, save for 2009 when I avoided her entirely (after the whole manipulation involving the facade of dad's "Memorial Mass," which was nothing more than a regular Saturday evening Vespers, where mom paid $5 donation for the candles). 

But I still have pangs. And funny thing is, just when I think to myself, "It's been a while since I spoke to mom," she'll call me; and visa versa, she'll think about me, and I'll call. In this case, she was saying on Sunday how she hadn't heard from me, and in Monday's mail was a care package I sent (which I sent on Saturday!), nearly a case of these sugar free cookies she likes (which I get at the Dollar Store), a few books and some magazines. 

She called to let me know the parcel arrived, and I let that go to voicemail (just to maintain the boundary that unless it is an emergency, I am at work). And I called her first chance I got after work. And we had a normalish conversation.

"I'd really like to see you."  See? Even she, in all her abnormal-ness, is able to articulate normal sentiments (at times!). This wasn't said in a pathetic tone, either. No manipulation. Just a genuine parental sentiment. See? She's capable of it! (when the mood strikes her)

"I'd really like to go out to lunch with you," was my reply.  

But the reality is, she hasn't left her home since roughly Mother's Day 2014, when she came home from the nursing home. And she's to the point now where her stamina is so reduced, even the act of showering and getting herself dressed, something so BASIC, actually tires her out. Even my sister the LPN who lives local, the one who thinks she does so much for mom, won't go to the trouble of taking mom places outside her house, because it's just not worth the risk. I just wish there were some form of transport option for mom, so if she wanted to go out, she COULD.

I wish I could get the husband to go with me, to keep me company especially on the longer ride home, especially given my hypoglycemia (and the fact the ride home is 3 hours, and within that time frame, I will start to wane, and sometimes get the shakes and get fatigued, and I"d feel better, safety wise, if someone were with me), but there's no convincing him of it. And my mother knows this, too. 

The excuses write themselves: the nearly three hour drive puts my back in spasm; Memorial Day to Labor Day the traffic to the shore is just HORRENDOUS; and then add to it the hypoglycemia, and well, to say I'm reluctant, is an understatement.

Let's see what I can do.

Perhaps I've got ADD

I've blocked my aunt from texting me, and I might consider doing the same to my brother, thus forming a communications choke point where they'd have to either call my house phone or email me.  

I'm done.

No Wallow Zone. Just an acknowledgment

It had been close to 2-3 weeks since I last spoke with my mother. Saturday after errands but before going into the house, I gave a call, and miracle of MIRACLES, she picked up.  There isn't much to be said anymore. No new dramas in either of our lives, and certainly nothing is new going on in her life. Unless someone calls or visits her, or unless there's a new health drama, there is absolutely nothing going on in her life. 

And there's not much going on in my life that I'd care to share with her (or the rest of the family, as she'd no doubt inform everyone of whatever is going on with me, as if anyone gives a shit). Nearly ten minutes elapsed, and before I knew it, my husband was approaching my car, to assist with bringing in groceries, and I was off the phone. Nothing of any real substance shared; however, she did let me know that there was an elaborate, formal party for my uncle's 50th birthday--the uncle who is two years older than I am, the uncle who was foisted upon me and my siblings like a bastard older brother we never had. And everyone was invited. Everyone, that is, except for ME.

At some point in the weekend, I zapped my aunt a photo of me in a killer red dress I got on sale, which was met with, "Nice." Full stop. Nothing follows.

Yesterday, I zapped my brother a text wishing him a happy father's day, which was met with, "Thank you." Full stop. Nothing follows.  

The more time elapses, the more it seems the decision will be made for me, to abstain from my mother's funeral, whenever that day comes. 

Considering making the thankless trip down there for a visit, "Paratrooper Style," hopefully with my husband in tow, to ensure a rapid release. Exhausting to think about, that 5 hour drive to/from the Jersey Shore on a Saturday. Miserable drive. If I go or don't go, the results are the same: Misery. If I go, I usually regret it; and if I don't go, I feel like a shit-heel.