My partner's mother is a pathological liar and a narcissist. She turned 70 last year but didn't want her kids to throw her a party because she didn't want to have to admit to being 70. She's told her friends she's 65 or something.
My own mom wasn't a shining example of loving kindness or sanity, so I have to admit I have been on the lookout for a mom substitute. When my father's girlfriend moved in with my dad, my sister and I (I was 15 and my sister 13), I thought this might be an opportunity to get a mom, but she was, "done raising kids and certainly not interested in raising 2 teenage girls." So she made a lot of noise about wanting to move out for several months and I finally started packing her stuff for her. My father was appalled, but in retrospect, I had obviously reached my limit on letting these women in only to be let down and needed to find some way to feel in control of the situation. She finally did move out, but I felt betrayed by both my father and her. They married after I had moved out of the house and made it difficult for my sister to feel comfortable living with them. Years later when my sister & I had taken on the role of alternate caregivers for my father, my now-"stepmom" (I referred to her a my father's wife, since stepmom implied so much more than she was ever willing to be) expressed a huge amount of gratitude for our help in spite of how she had treated us when we were young. Implied was remorse, I think, but she never really apologized and I'm not the type to forgive easily anyway.
I've always adopted my boyfriend's family, befriending the mom, dad and assorted siblings and their extended family members. Several times the families contacted me after a breakup and told me I was still welcome to be part of their family, despite the end of my relationship with their son. It was nice to hear, impossible to execute. Once I hit my late 20s, the situation changed dramatically, suddenly I was a real threat to these momma's boys. I wasn't interested in getting married, not really interested in kids until I had finished my college education (which took decades, literally!) but I still wanted a relationship. I thought it was just uptight midwest religious stirrings, these moms who hated me on sight. Maybe because I hailed from California? Maybe because I was divorced? Maybe because I slept with their sons and didn't feel guilt? Whatever the reason I was shunned by these women and never made to feel comfortable in their lives. So I returned to California, alone and ready to find my family.
My partner told me that his mother and father were estranged for many years, living in the same house, but living separate lives, so he was her date most of the time while he was growing up. And, oh by the way, none of his girlfriends got along with her and she hated them on sight. So I was on a mission to make her like me. I was going to be different. I welcomed his mother into our relationship with open arms. She was invited to stay with us whenever and wherever we were. We traveled together. Valentine's evening and you've got no place to go? No problem come and be with us. Mi casa es su casa. Then we decided to have a baby. When we told her we were pregnant her face fell, she was completely unable to hide her dismay.
I could recite chapter and verse all the crazy things she's done and said since that day, but will forgo the exercise. Sufice it to say I have had to excise her from my life and maintain a very lengthy distance between her and my daughter since I feel she's in danger in the pesence of her "grandmother." It's apparent that she has treated both of her children badly, yet they continue to forgive and go back for more abuse. That is what I don't understand. I am easily spooked and when I see evidence of abuse, whether it's physical or emotional, I withdraw to the furthest corner. When the abuse continues I walk away. I don't care if it's someone that I loved or someone whose genes I share. I cannot, will not accept that sort of behavior and certainly wouldn't expose my own child to the possibililty of the abuse being sent her way. My own mother failed miserably in that area and I refuse to repeat the mistake. I'm just not sure how to make my partner see that his own mother is abusive. Is it enough for me to protect myself and my daughter?
Friday, February 22, 2008
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Victimless??
I read a story this morning about a 65-year old man who rented a pistol at a shooting range and then fatally shot himself. It brings to mind my own experience with a gun-wielding man who, in his attempt to rob the bank I worked at, held a gun to my head and threatened to shoot me, but ended up shooting himself, literally blowing his own head completely off. It left me with a lifetime of memories of the decimation of a sawed off shotgun used at close range, took away some fragment of my ability to feel totally free and safe and will be a permanent part of my own history.
"No one else was injured" is a common statement in these stories, but I have to disagree as it does not take into account anything other than physical injuries. OK, so no one else was shot with a gun by the 65-year old man, but someone had to find his body, call the authorities and deal with the clean up of the mess left by his chosen method to end his life. His family and friends will forever have the emotional trauma of knowing that he made the choice to end his life in such a violent, public manner. The employee(s) who found him will have to go to their place of business every day and find little reminders of this man's angst, and, as was the case for me, probably even find parts of the mess that didn't get totally cleaned up. They will wonder each time they rent out a gun, sign in a customer, "Will s/he do this too?" It's a life-changing experience, and while they weren't shot, or stabbed or maimed physically, they have been wounded psychologically. Their wounds will take a very long time to heal and they will leave permanent scars. I think that qualifies as "injured" and these people are victims, just as if they had been shot.
So what is the message? I am an avid fan of gun control. Once you've had one stuck in your face, you begin to appreciate just how scary they truly are. I am also an advocate for assisted suicide. If you decide you want out, there should be a way to go, without leaving a mess for someone who didn't ask to be part of your personal drama- someone who might like to continue to feel safe and free. We call this euthanization for the pets that we bring into our lives. It's the "humane" thing to do, but somehow it's not humane enough for people.
I am left without a snappy punchline for this rant. Fitting, I suppose, since there really isn't any solution to either the issue of allowing people to leave this earth in their own time or finding ways to help the victims of these so-called victimless crimes.
"No one else was injured" is a common statement in these stories, but I have to disagree as it does not take into account anything other than physical injuries. OK, so no one else was shot with a gun by the 65-year old man, but someone had to find his body, call the authorities and deal with the clean up of the mess left by his chosen method to end his life. His family and friends will forever have the emotional trauma of knowing that he made the choice to end his life in such a violent, public manner. The employee(s) who found him will have to go to their place of business every day and find little reminders of this man's angst, and, as was the case for me, probably even find parts of the mess that didn't get totally cleaned up. They will wonder each time they rent out a gun, sign in a customer, "Will s/he do this too?" It's a life-changing experience, and while they weren't shot, or stabbed or maimed physically, they have been wounded psychologically. Their wounds will take a very long time to heal and they will leave permanent scars. I think that qualifies as "injured" and these people are victims, just as if they had been shot.
So what is the message? I am an avid fan of gun control. Once you've had one stuck in your face, you begin to appreciate just how scary they truly are. I am also an advocate for assisted suicide. If you decide you want out, there should be a way to go, without leaving a mess for someone who didn't ask to be part of your personal drama- someone who might like to continue to feel safe and free. We call this euthanization for the pets that we bring into our lives. It's the "humane" thing to do, but somehow it's not humane enough for people.
I am left without a snappy punchline for this rant. Fitting, I suppose, since there really isn't any solution to either the issue of allowing people to leave this earth in their own time or finding ways to help the victims of these so-called victimless crimes.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Old flames
Seems like Valentine's day is an appropriate day for this thought. I woke up composing a letter to an ex-boyfriend, an ex whom I haven't seen in over 8 years, haven't spoken to in at least 7. We dated for almost 5 years, lived together for 2 years and split up when I made the decision to return home to California to help my family take care of my father, who had been diagnosed with Parkinson's. At the time of my decision, the relationship seemed solid. My thought was that we would move to California together. He had a job where he traveled 5 days/week, so from my perspective it was an easy solution for us both to move. His family was healthy and they could travel to him, and he traveled all the time anyway so he could build in stops to visit family on a regular basis. But he said no and proposed several options as a "compromise" including one in which I should consider taking a job as a flight attendant so that I could travel to my family frequently. I had just completed my bachelor's degree in chemical engineering. It took 5 grueling years and I had $40,000 in student loans and flight attendant was not a job that required the hard-earned chemical engineering degree. Was I supposed to throw all that away? So we decided to split up. The breakup was not very civilized, but I thought after 5 years we might still have a friendship and attempted to stay in touch. He was happier for me to leave him alone, so I did. Until last year. I managed to track him down via the internet and left him a voicemail message with my contact information. He never called. It was obvious from my sleuthing that he'd gotten married, so maybe the wife didn't pass along the message, or maybe he really didn't want to hear from me, but how would I know which one it was? I've moved on, my father has dies, so was there any downside to getting in touch and catching up? And so the letter began to take life in my head. I haven't sent it (yet).
Today, on Valentine's Day, when we are reminded of love in an abstract way, and some very concrete ways, I think that Tennyson had it right, tis better to have loved and lost than never have loved at all.
Today, on Valentine's Day, when we are reminded of love in an abstract way, and some very concrete ways, I think that Tennyson had it right, tis better to have loved and lost than never have loved at all.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Today I didn't do it
I’ve been struggling with finding 1 hour several days a week to workout and yesterday morning I asked myself how my brother-in-law maintains his 2 hour a day workout regimen, manages to help with his baby in the morning, drive a heinous commute and work a zillion hours a day - yet I have difficulty finding those 60 minutes (without a heinous commute or crazy hours at work). I thought, “It’s the difference between BEING a wife and HAVING a wife. Having a wife allows you those luxuries, being a wife means you provide the time for those luxuries for someone else to enjoy.” My sister disagreed, said it was about managing your priorities, deciding what to let go of and making the time for yourself. She’s absolutely right, however, yesterday evening I received the following e-mail and it struck me that, while it is about making choices, there are always consequences for those choices, and is it really a “choice” if you are punished in the end?
_______
What Do You Do All Day?
A man came home from work and found his three children outside, still in their pajamas, playing in the mud, with empty food boxes and wrappers strewn all around the front yard. The door of his wife's car was open, as was the front door to the house and there was no sign of the dog.
Proceeding into the entry, he found an even bigger mess. A lamp had been knocked over, and the throw rug was wadded against one wall.In the front room the TV was loudly blaring a Cartoon channel, and the family room was strewn with toys and various items of clothing.
In the kitchen, dishes filled the sink, breakfast food was spilled on the counter, the fridge door was open wide, dog food was spilled on the floor, a broken glass lay under the table, and a small pile of sand was spread by the back door.
He quickly headed up the stairs, stepping over toys and more piles of clothes, looking for his wife. He was worried she might be ill, or that something serious had happened. He was met with a small trickle of water as it made its way out the bathroom door. As he peered inside he found wet towels, scummy soap and more toys strewn over the floor. Miles of toilet paper lay in a heap and toothpaste had been smeared over the mirror and walls.
As he rushed to the bedroom, he found his wife curled up in the bed still in her pajamas, reading a novel. She looked up at him, smiled, and asked how his day went.
He looked at her bewildered and asked, "What happened here today?"She again smiled and answered, "You know every day when you come home from work and you ask me what in the world I do all day?""Yes," was his incredulous reply.She answered, "Well, today I didn't do it."
_______
What Do You Do All Day?
A man came home from work and found his three children outside, still in their pajamas, playing in the mud, with empty food boxes and wrappers strewn all around the front yard. The door of his wife's car was open, as was the front door to the house and there was no sign of the dog.
Proceeding into the entry, he found an even bigger mess. A lamp had been knocked over, and the throw rug was wadded against one wall.In the front room the TV was loudly blaring a Cartoon channel, and the family room was strewn with toys and various items of clothing.
In the kitchen, dishes filled the sink, breakfast food was spilled on the counter, the fridge door was open wide, dog food was spilled on the floor, a broken glass lay under the table, and a small pile of sand was spread by the back door.
He quickly headed up the stairs, stepping over toys and more piles of clothes, looking for his wife. He was worried she might be ill, or that something serious had happened. He was met with a small trickle of water as it made its way out the bathroom door. As he peered inside he found wet towels, scummy soap and more toys strewn over the floor. Miles of toilet paper lay in a heap and toothpaste had been smeared over the mirror and walls.
As he rushed to the bedroom, he found his wife curled up in the bed still in her pajamas, reading a novel. She looked up at him, smiled, and asked how his day went.
He looked at her bewildered and asked, "What happened here today?"She again smiled and answered, "You know every day when you come home from work and you ask me what in the world I do all day?""Yes," was his incredulous reply.She answered, "Well, today I didn't do it."
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