Thursday, August 2, 2012

Not a Hollywood Ending...More of an 'Augusten Burroughs' ending

I've bounced back from the low point of my last post, and thank heavens, huh? Yeah, no shit.  The combination of Adderal and family drama is not a good one and should be avoided, is my advice. 

All this time I've been back in therapy.  DEALING with this shit head-on. Not sitting at home looking at 'Cute Overload' and eating ice cream out of the container in the dark.  Not moping and whining my way through life.  I moped and whined HERE, as should have gone without saying I suppose; but once I got up from the keyboard I put on my EIM  (exoskeletal interface, military) and rode rampage through the minefields while the blitzkreig raged and the bodies stank,  while rockets exploded overhead and big icky space guys that had squid heads shot gross blobs of mucus that was actually acid and it would stick to you and you'd start melting and all like 'AAAAAAA!' and you're all bubbling up and your bones are sticking out, so you had to stay in your EIM or else you'd get this acid stuff on you and the squid heads would lay eggs in your brain.   It was like that. 
And now I'm done. 
And I'm feeling pretty damn pleased with myself.

As one of my friends pointed out, family doesn't always mean anything.  Hard lesson to learn.  Learned it.  Learning it  was like suddenly being freed from jail, too.  My life is the best it's been in four years.  Of course, that seems appalling, because I'm writing about having cut my son and daughter out of my life.  I don't know how I'm going to answer questions about why I don't see my kids anymore, or how my grandchildren are.  People still blame Mommy when things go wrong, and a mommy as straight-up weird as I am makes a better target than most.  I intend to say 'fuck'em' when the time comes, if ever.  In fact, I may just not even mention having kids or grandkids to people because I am just so sick of the bullshit associated with the subject.

This is a lot like when my daughter finally moved out, only better. (The sheer awesomeness of how good this is is still kind of playing with my head, in fact. It feels like it should be wrong to be this glad you'll never see your children again.)  I have my life back, and now there are no obstacles whatsoever to my finally getting to a place where I can build something good that's finally, only, about me.  I've spent 52 solid years just reacting and coping and doing for others.  Now I've finally got my shit in a bag and I'm taking it on the road.  SHIT NO I'M NOT LEAVING THE BIKER holy crap no. I'm taking him with me!  Just not in the same bad the shit's in.  That's not clean. 

The man drives me bugshit half the time but I couldn 't have asked for a better friend.  Let alone the whole 'married' thing.  The guy has been right there with me.  We've gone through this together.  Now we're on the other side of it together, and it kicks ass totally.  I've been very, very fortunate.  Butch as fuck and a great goddamn cook; man rides a Harley and wears my patchouli because he gets sad without me.  AWWWWWW.

So that's it.  This will be the last post to this blog for now.  The situation is over - for now- I'm sure there'll be more chapters but dogwilling they won't happen for a longass time.  Thank you for reading, and thank you for your comments, advice, and good wishes.  They helped more than you'll ever, ever know.  You all get a big gold star!

Muchas smooches

Thursday, July 5, 2012

From bad to utter shit

I'd love to say that things have improved, but they haven't.

Looking back,  I wish that none of this had ever happened.  This past four years has been nothing but wasted time.

I got absolutely nothing whatsoever out of reuniting with my son except complications and chaos.  My family is completely broken.  My marriage is still going, but both of us are so in grief over all this that it's been very hard to find a reason to go on.  I don't mean to sound melodramatic.  Thats just the way it is.

There was no real role for me in my sons' life.  His expectations were tainted by what he felt he should have received from the woman who raised him...which no human being could fulfill, and I certainly fell short of every single time I opened my mouth.  There is no way I could 'mother' a 30 year old man or do anything to fill whatever voids there were in his life, and I always felt, more each time I visited, that I was somehow 'letting down the side' although he completely denied it.  Toward the end I was nothing more than an excuse every couple of months for my son to get drunk and party and whine about his wife and how she'd fucked up his life.  And then feel guilty about having done it.  And then resent me.  I know it's fucked up.  It's what happened, though. 

By the last year and a half his children only saw me as a source of presents and money and constantly jacked me for same.  I can't say that I ever felt particularly close to them, although I tried.   And I did try.  I tried until I had nothing left emotionally. It meant exactly nothing.  None of it.  When all was said and done,  I was just a way for my son to get back at the people who raised him, and someone his white trash parasite of a wife viewed only as a potential source of cash.

 My daughter rounded on me like a rabid weasel at the height of my upset about this.  She pulled the grandkids card too.  I've been forbidden to see Sadie or Ayden. Me specifically.  My husband is 'allowed' to contact her through her husband. (He laughed.)  The reasons keep changing, and the story is vague...but my husband and I have seen lesser versions of this before. The timing, the circumstances, it's all very familiar.  This is getback, pure and simple.  And this is the big showdown that's been building for years.  I've come to accept that she was a difficult person, but now all the cards have been laid on the table.  I can finally look back at things she's said and done and see that she's been waiting for years to 'get' me.   I realize that sounds paranoid.  It isn't.  It's the truth.  And it makes me feel scared and horribly ashamed.

I'll be honest.  I've thought about suicide.  In a matter of one month I went from eleven family members down to two,  and four of the adults are convinced to whatever personal degree that I'm the one that fucked everything up...after all, I'm the one with all the 'problems' right?  No reason for anyone to take any personal responsibility for their actions when we can all blame it on the crazy person!  Then on top of all that my husband almost gets killed three times, I'm diagnosed with ADHD, kicked out of a doctors office for being a baby killer, and my fucking optometrist tries to run a scam on me for the love of fuck.  2012 can go get fucked.

I'm feeling pretty beat up right now.  I've had some really bad, dark hours and it doesn't look like it's going to get any better any time soon.  Everything that was important to me - family, being a grandmother -  has turned into shit.  My daughter has done her concerted best to destroy not only any relationship I could have had with my son, but has tried to drive a wedge between my husband and I as well.  Again, I might add.  We were good parents...we did everything 'right'.  And it meant nothing.  Nothing.  It was just words.

My entire life feels so meaningless.  I wish I could stop thinking about this.  It's done.  But it won't go away.  Yes I'm in therapy.  Again.  Thats what I do apparently.  It's beginning to feel pretty meaningless too.

Friday, May 25, 2012

Another One Bites The Dust

Today I went over to my daughters house to try and patch things up between us.

She threw me out, refusing to talk to me, telling me in front of my grandchildren I was no longer welcome in her life, in her childrens' lives, or in her house.

Then she called the police.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Super Mega Monster #109

Things have gone from bad to worse, as they tend to do whenever my daughter, the Stainless Steel Amazon, gets involved.   Combine two solid weeks down with the flu, her father going into the hospital for a surprise cardio procedure, and her brothers' snivelling, and all I had to do was walk through her line of vision. 

Once again, as has happened altogether too frequently in the past, she has thrown a super mega monster screaming tantrum. Once again, I am the primary target, although everyone in her vicinity is catching buckshot. Once again, I am the Beast of the Apocalypse, undermining her authority(?), author of  'fucked-up weirdness' (?) , calling her a bitch all the time (?  not that she doesn't rate it at the moment) and a whole random-as-fuck stack of other things that bear very little relationship to rational thinking. 

Once again.

Coming as this does during a time when I am mourning the second loss of my son, the near-loss of my husband, and a diagnosis of adult ADHD, I am somewhat less than willing to give this bullshit the time and consideration she seems to think it deserves.  I have received the usual long, ranting, email, and I have once again deleted the usual long, ranting email without reading it.  This behavior has played out with dismaying regularity ever since she was about eleven years old, and I've blogged about it elsewhere.  This time is different.  The time has finally come to put more distance between her and I, and to keep it there for good. 

Lest you think that everything in my life sucks, be reassured.  The Biker and I are solid.  We are GOOD.  He is behind me all the way.  He was there when this all came down, and he too has seen it aaaaaaaall before.   Thank God for him.  

And Thank God for modern medicine too.  I came thisclose to being a widow.  But a ten-minute procedure later and it's like this:  if  we'd known that a couple of stents would make this much damn difference we'd have bought them by the crate and stapled them all over everything like party decorations.  I have to disguise myself as a lawnmower and hide in the shed at night if I want to get any sleep.  This has been a public service announcement from the Department of Too Much Information.

Sunday, April 1, 2012

Let The Games Begin....and they have

The thing you need to keep in mind when dealing with co-dependent people is that their world is the only world, and that world operates on deceit.  Everything you've ever said and will ever say they will assume is a lie, and they wait in dread for the inevitable moment that you do something deliberately cruel and abusive to them.  Everything that happens is interpreted this way.  You have no say whatsoever.  Anything good or fun is just a set-up, every positive emotion is probably faked and always fleeting and pale, and everything disagreeable or unpleasant is an attack.

My relationship with the Arborist didn't stand a chance.  For the past year I've struggled with this knowledge.  I finally told him.

Given the above...?  You can imagine how well that went over.

Two weeks afterward, he shot me an email, a nearly unintelligible, vicious rant having to do with his sister, The Stainless Steel Amazon, and a fight they'd had four years ago...a fight precipitated by the event mentioned in the first post of this blog.  The same one I was assured by him was done and in the past, no hard feelings, shit happens, copious amounts of sunshine blown up my ass, noses brown, eyes right, forward march.

 What that had to do with the present was precisely nothing. It was purely and simply abusive on his part, and ugly, and it was the last straw as far as I'm concerned.  I don't suffer fools, and I don't suffer punks.

But something told me that this wasn't the cherry on top...not yet.  And sure enough.....

Turns out, he's been phoning this same sister and sweet-talking her for the past two weeks ('I guess you know your mom's mad at me...sniff...')  Now she's taken his part and they're both angry with me for being such a mean old irrational bitch.

I've had to put up with two visits from  my daughter since, both visits chock fucking filled with lots of pointed comments and barely disguised impatience.  The message is clear:  This is all my fault.  I should apologize. 

Meanwhile I have that email simmering away in my archives. 

Me, I'm done. I'm in therapy. I'm dealing with the mourning and the other issues this has brought up, and I've disconnected.  I don't see him ever dealing with his shit, and I've made it clear that unless he does this isn't going to happen; so for now, this faltering excuse for a relationship is over for the foreseeable future. 

But what goes for James Bond goes for me:  Never say never. 
Keep watching this space.

Saturday, March 10, 2012

Who in the fuck do I think I'm kidding.  I'm devastated beyond all reason.

Friday, March 9, 2012

Chinese Opera For Two Hippies With Frenzied Clanging Sounds and Intermittent Yodelling: Redux

Some things I've learned from reuniting with my son:

1.  This is not your child.  This is another adult.  You will want to treat this adult like your child, and you will be tempted to treat this adult like a small child.  You will be wrong.  You need to ramp back on those maternal feelings and do  your best to get to know this adult person on their own terms  This will suck a good half of the time.  (Completely fucked this one in the ass with an Almaden bottle.  Massive fail.)

2. This is not a member of your family.  This is a person who was raised in a completely different family culture than yours. Your way of relating as a family member will not mean a thing to this person. Their way of relating to you as a family member will seem strange and off-putting to you.  You'll have the feeling that you have to 'break them in' correctly.  They already are broken in.  You are a guest in this home; you're the one who needs to learn how to play by new rules. ( I absolutely failed this one.  Spectacularly.  Well no, wait, I did pretty well over at his place for the most part. Just not so much with him personally.  At all.)

3. If this person has close family, you will feel jealous.  Grit your teeth and do the right thing and stand aside and let them have this relationship.  (This is one of the few things I got right on the first try, but I think it's just because I'm not a terribly jealous person to begin with.)

4. If this person had a shitty upbringing, you need to tread very carefully, PARTICULARLY IF THEY HAVEN'T ADDRESSED THE ISSUE YET.  Abused kids grow up into hurt adults, but they still  have a horrible longing for the love, approval and caring of the parents who raised them. Not you.  Any good relationship you form with this person is going to make them feel very guilty.  Anything negative you might venture about their family of origin will be met with denial, defensiveness, and shame.  DON'T GO THERE. ( I fucked up this entire part like a big dog.) 
It's probably a real good idea to avoid meeting the abusive parents. (Another thing I got right. Go me!)
5. There will be a period of time after the initial 'wow' wears off when you start knocking the corners off each other in the process of learning to live in each others' life.  (This is where we're at now.  I used a 20 lb. sledgehammer.  Don't use a 20 lb. sledgehammer.  I stand a very good chance of never seeing my kid again.) It's like that first year of marriage...all the new rubs thin and now you're down to the icky, goofy nuts and bolts.  You forget to flush the toilet, and they let the dog stand in the dishwasher and eat the crud off the bottom. You will argue and disagree.  It will suck.  Family will take sides.  There will be robots and kung fu and someone will leave a flaming bag of dog crap in your car, and it will be retarded.

6. Sometimes there are things that simply will not work.  This person may be too different for you to have an ongoing relationship with.  Remember, this person is a stranger.  Not all strangers turn into friends.  Nature doesn't mean that much in the long run.  You should probably just let it die a natural death and try to leave on an up note. All you'll get out of it is knowing how the story ended.  And sometimes that's all you get.  (My boy, turns out, is a shit kickin', country-western singin' he-man conservative redneck.  I am a funk-soul armed liberal bisexual feminist hippie biker.  The twain are not meeting well.  AT ALL.)

7. Sometimes, you will not understand their family.  Be gracious and for the love of God keep your negative opinions to yourself. (Shaky on this one....but I've done pretty well on the main.  Right up until lately.)

8.  Your family, meanwhile, will be very jealous and protective...angry at the interloper and angry at you for letting them in.  They will cause all kinds of problems for themselves and for you.  You will need to spend a lot of time reassuring them.  (The way this finally shook out for me is that my daughter and son haaaaaaaaaaaate each other, and my husband has backed way off because me and the kid's thing is just too fraught.  It' you a state of flux.)

9.  I have no advice to people who neglected to mention their youthful indiscretion and then had their grown indiscretion come knocking at their door.  This didn't happen with me. Me and the biker have at least two 'indiscretions' between us and all was known from the get-go.  It was the 70's, OK?

10.  You may experience a terrifying rush of oxytocin and 'fall in love' with your child.  This is not 'romantic' love.  You aren't a pervert.  (Nailed this one!   God I hope it never happens again.  I thought I was the biggest freak in the entire world.)

11.  I also have no advice to give about differences in religion.  That wasn't an issue.  Can I get an 'amen'?!!  I'd imagine it sucks pretty bad the more fundamentalist people are regarding their beliefs.  Same goes for politics. ( I actually got this one right.  I've openly scoffed a few times when Nixon, Reagan or either Bush appeared on the TV, but I've never got into any kind of political discussion with the guy.  Mainly because I'm not too politically knowledgeable, and why sound like an ignoramus.)

12.  Keep your opinions to yourself in the beginning.  Instead focus on finding out what theirs are first. (I just took a big old runny shit all over this one.  Can't keep my big mouth shut, never had an opinion I didn't feel obligated to beat other folks over the head with.  Just yap yap yap yap yap yap.  It wasn't pretty.)