Seeing the future….it looks sad.

I’m coming to realize that my mother, has some SERIOUS mental issues.  Not schizophrenic or hearing voices.  She has some serious, beyond normal separation anxiety issues.  I have believed for years that she has Borderline Personality Disorder.

The most recent occurrence comes to mind. My son is 13, and will be going to a summer camp where I will be dropping him off in the morning and picking him up in the afternoon after work.  She will no long be doing that task which is what she’s been doing since about mid-March, dropped him off at school and picked him up from school.

I swear, the way she reacts to this, one would think that my son DIED.  She gets really upset when she realizes that we don’t need her all the time anymore.  Like I mentioned above, severe separation anxiety issues. When she a gets in this mode, she begins to throw around fals accusations.  She actually accused my son of saying he no longer wanted to be around him or my ailing father. I was shocked and was like “WHAT?” Turns out, when I actually got away from texting her (because through a text is the easiest way for her to lie and it’s her #1 source of communication when she doesn’t want me to force her to see the truth) and dialed her on the phone to get this info….surprise….surprise, the back peddling begins. No, he never said that.  That is just the way she feels.  That was a heavy accusation but I can expect nothing less from someone who is emotional unstable.  I never know what I’m walking into when I go to see her.

But I know that the looming gloom of the future days for her has got to be overwhelming.  Her “Golden Years” will not be filled with RV trips and 20 grand kids playing swings in her back yard.  Her days are going to be filled with loneliness and pain.  They will be filled with taking care of someone who used to be her soulmate and still is but no longer has the mind to communicate.

The pity I feel is for her, realizing this is her life, is what helps me get through her unstable moods and horrible words….for instance……

…..nothing like being told that I’m just WAITING for her and my beloved Dementia riddled father to die so I can live in their house and get an inheritance.  That one will never cease to sting, each time I think of it….

And that was just the most recent.  Being her daughter has meant a lifetime of put downs, and insults. As of now, little things are said daily, to me, about me, about my son.  How I’m failing in everything.  Over the years, those I really have learned to shake off, get up, say my goodbyes and state that we will try again another day.  But it never changes.  She just continues to spit out her venon in the form of insults, whether they are true or far fetched.

And never an apology….but OH God forbid my sister or I say anything remotely unkind to her…all hell breaks loose and she’s the properly placed victim.

But that is what makes me sad the most.  She has turned into someone that I only tolerate because she gave me life. Other than that, I offer no more of myself.  I just can’t get past her abrasive, cold attitude.  She doesn’t appreciate what my sister and I have done for her, helped her.  She is just wrapped up in her own world where it’s all about her, all the time. Anything else happens that doesn’t involve her (i.e. I take a small car trip with my son without her…..I get the “guilt trip, I’m stuck here alone with your father” act).

I wonder….I wonder if some day I can look at her and actually tell her how HARD she made it to even slightly love her.

But what I wonder most….is would she even care.


Time is a cruel thing

As I reach the mid of my 40th year on this Earth, I realize that youth is no more.  I could still feel those rare remnants of it in my late 20’s or maybe I just didn’t recognize that time was marching on because I was stuck in the drama that was my life.  I did still feel it in my mid-thirties but that was due to weight loss.  I’m fat again never to be thin like I was 3 years ago due to many different health reasons, so youth….is disappearing.

20120422-142821My body is failing me.  I will soon be developing either degenerative disc disease or arthritis in my spine which pretty much keeps me from any of the weight lifting and hardcore cardio on the elliptical I did 3 years ago.  My thyroid is shutting down causing said fatness and I feel like an ugly round butter bean.  I was on such a high, 3 years ago. But the higher you climb, the harder you fall and psychically, I fell long and hard with no sight of getting back to where I was in sight

I only have memories, memories of a time where I could breathe, literally.  Memories of when I could smile.  I could smile even THROUGH the vast loneliness that consumed me, even while looking my best.

Youth is gone…..

I was just told by my mother a few days ago that the Frontal Temporal Disease my father of 64 had, is now full fledged Alzheimer’s.  This is something that began developing when he was 57…..57!   His brain, after a recent scan and compared to the last scan done 3 years ago, shows the signs of dark voids that most MRI scans of Alzheimer patients will show.


Not the actual scan but this is a good comparison

This both pisses me off and makes me sad.  My father has done nothing but work and work and work to stay with my mother, to uphold her standards of living, to keep us, since I was a child 40 years ago.  He didn’t divorce or leave her because he didn’t want to lose my sister and I as he lost his two children before from his previous marriage. Now I won’t claim to know all the reasoning behind his life with her. I only know what I see on the outside. And granted, his previous wife was a bitch from hell and took his kids (my older brother and sister) but that is neither here nor there.

His quality of life is no longer.  His youth is most definitely gone.  He can no longer speak or interact.  He does not react well to being outside his room where he just sits and watches T.V.  As of lately, it seems his brain can’t process small types of crisis such as, “I have the slight urge to go to the bathroom but I’m not dying” but his brain says “if I don’t go to the bathroom now, I’ll lose my mind and wail and scream“….the wailing and screaming he is starting to do more. That is very hard to see.  My mother, is diving into a pool of depression and frustration that she really isn’t becoming a good caretaker and the burden falls on my sister and I, but mostly my sister, who is starting to lose her own mind.  I sense that especially after a tear filled weeping conversation I had with her on the phone.  That is abnormal because this is a person who NEVER shows emotion and when I mean never…I mean…I have NEVER seen her cry past maybe once or twice in her 35 years of life.  The weight my mother puts on her/us and then how she repays us with ugly words and treating us like crap….I have little respect for her, very little.  She gave me life….and that is the extent of the decency I will show her.

I sometimes wonder, if this is God’s cruel idea of a joke

I just don’t get it…

I believe that when my mother gets me things that I don’t or can’t use it is just some sort of joke now.

I’ve mentioned before that my mom tends to gift me the strangest things.  Things I would never use or things I would think as my mother she would know me enough to know that I don’t even like.

This Christmas was no different.  For my birthday on December 2nd she got me boots that are not even my style or a style I’ve ever worn.  Luckily,  I was able to take them back for store credit and got boots more my style.

But the huge box I opened yesterday had me firmly convinced that this woman, doesn’t know me, her own daughter, or just doesn’t even care to.

I opened the huge box to this…


While I honestly think it’s a very neat product, as a non- soda or carbonated drinker, I would have zero use for it.  I mean, I do have my occassional Coke Zero every once in a while but I have no idea why she would think that I drink enough soda to warrant a machine to make it.  I drink water.  And she KNOWS that!  (I’m sorry but it really infuriates me that my mother doesn’t know me at all).

Then, the fact that she gave my sister the exact same thing and she IS a soda drinker and was ecstatic shows me, yet again, how not only my mother doesn’t care to know anything about me but will shove in my face how I’m the daughter she doesn’t care to know anything about.

I went online to guess on the cost of the set she gave me and let’s just put it this way.  She got me something I’ll never use for the same price it would have cost to get me a decent Disney Annual Pass, a gift that would have meant something to me.  So it wasn’t lack of money that caused this and I KNOW she isn’t clueless as to my sadness over not having my Disney Pass.

I’m honestly not trying to complain about a Christmas gift because I’m a spoiled brat.  She did get me some nice comfy pajamas (finally in the right size to, she forgets I’m 10 sizes smaller now than last Christmas) I just am so tired of no one caring enough about me to not even try to know what I like.  Not even my family cares to do that.  It really is hurtful.

And I try my best to listen and understand what people want.  My mother said she’s always cold in her house so I got her a nice fluffy and furry blanket.  I know my sister said she likes Bath & Body Works so I got her one of the more expensive bath sets.  Even my dad said he never got to see The Lone Ranger so I got him the BluRay.

But what fascinates me the most about this phenomenon is that people who are practically strangers (for example co-workers I’ve known for a short time) gift to me perfectly.  The attorney I work for got me L.A. Kings tickets.  He took the time to know we go to Ontario Reign hockey games and that my plays hockey.  An attorney I worked for two Christmas ago got me a cute Eeyore ornamant and Sally bottle and Eeyore Plushie.  He knew me all of 6 months and gifted me perfectly.

Anyway, it really depressed me how not one person on this planet cares about me enough to know what I like, to understand me.  I guess I’ll be putting that Soda making thing up on Craigslist soon enough.  Better to get some money out of it that have it sit in my cabinet, unused.

I wanted to add that I’m not really mad at her.  I just find this such an interesting occurrence between us.  And I have to just keep remembering that it was she and my dad that took out $2000 to give me to pay my divorce attorney so that I can take my ex-husband back to court.  She shows her support in other ways.  They are just not as endearing as how she shows my sister.

Or I’m just being a spoiled brat.  I am super tired, no exhausted, today and at work and bloated and crampy and scared out of my mind that I’ve eaten to much over the holidays and that I am gaining weight because I haven’t had time to work out.  I’m on the edge right now anyway.

Yeah, can I just spend the rest of my life drunk?


I know, bad title especially for those who do deal with drinking problems, but I really have to admit…these past few days I’ve just wanted to drink my existence into oblivion.

I’m so emotionally drained.  The cat threw up on Saturday but the reason why is unknown to me.  He may have eaten to fast or something.  He hasn’t thrown up again and is seeming to be doing fine.  He is VERY clingy to me now though.  Now, he only eats his dinner IN my lap, nowhere else.  I would feed him all meals in my lap if it would get him to eat and gain weight but I have to work and can’t.  So, only his dinners are in my lap, on the couch.  I will now have to work my evening schedule around lap feeding my cat.  What’s funny is if you knew this cat’s personality, being clingy and cuddly is NOT what this cat is about so the constant “I MUST be sitting right on your lap” attitude he’s adopted is new for me.  I like it, but then realize, it’s just another whiny, clingy living creature I have to contend with.

I also have to give him medications, twice a day.  Antacids, for the upset tummy and Antibiotics for the mouth infection.  Apparently, there is no easy way to give a cat medications through a syringe or dropper.  He fights me every time and sometimes, sprays the medication all over the place and me because he shakes his head.  This morning, I made the mistake of getting fully dressed for work BEFORE giving him his meds.  Let’s just say I had to change just before walking out the door.

The total cost for this whole ordeal, after 3 nights of hospitalization, the initial first visit and the two meds and special food: $916.00  I have no words….

Anyway, the other clingy, whiny creature I contend with is The Boy.  I swear, I love that kid to death but he seriously needs to just grow a pair.  Harsh, I know, but he whines and complains at every little scratch or bump.  He hit his head while playing soccer at school and got a sore in his mouth, where the ball hit him.  Now it’s whining and moaning every time he eats because it stings the sore.  I say suck it up kid!  You want to play ice hockey?  You gotta learn to suck it up!  Are you  bleeding? No.  Anything broken? No. Then suck it up!

I’m mean, I know but hell! I used to play volleyball with dislocated fingers and busted knees!  My coach would say “wrap that up and let’s go!  You’re our best setter!”

The Boy needs to suck it up….

On top of that, I had another riling verbal go at it with my mother and sister after church on Sunday.

My sister…I laugh at her sometimes.  Not because I’m making fun of her but because she is trying to hold onto the last dying hope that our mother will actually stop trying to control our lives and not have “selective amnesia” when it comes to things we say.  I’ve told my mother I do NOT like when The Boy interrupts our adult conversations just so he can get a game on her iPad or to get her to turn her mobile WiFi on.  He knows to NEVER do that with me nor when my sister and I our talking.  Yet, when my mother is there…he turns into a disrespectful little bugger.  It’s because she allows it.

So, apparently, my mother doesn’t remember the 50 times I’ve told her that I will not allow disrespectful interrupting from The Boy, even though my sister backed up pretty much each time I’ve told her, as she has heard me say it to our mother, multiple times.  Nope, I get a “You have NEVER told me that” from my mother.

It’s unbelievable…

Our mother is also pissed we aren’t going to a baby shower of a cousin we never see nor hardly even know.  The only reason this cousin haphazardly invited us, through our mother, is so she can get more gifts.  It’s so blatantly obvious.  Our mother wants us to go and why does she? Well, I would assume it would be to “show us off” per say.  Especially me, who has lost all kinds of weight.  Now, apparently, I look good enough for her to brag about it.  With my mother, it’s all about how we look to others.  So sad really.

So, my sister calls me yesterday evening, after that harrowing conversation we all had saying “why do I need to go somewhere because SHE wants me to”? I simply tell her “Uh…sweetie…you don’t.  You are 30 years old.  You can do whatever the hell you want.  I’ve been telling you this for years now”.  She knows that she needs to let go of trying to please our mother, as I have done many years ago.  She also needs to come to terms that our mother will always hand out the guilt trips when she doesn’t get her way and my sister needs to learn to just push away.  Being close to our mother is something my sister has always reveled in, compared to me, who has always tried to steer clear from getting to attached to her.  But I’ve told her, there is a REASON I keep my distance.  She may just have to learn the hard way.

She’ll soon see the whole picture for what it really is and understand why I deal with our mother as little as possible.

And with all this stress, I didn’t realize that I was ripping my fingers to absolute shreds.  My cuticles, every single one of them, are not now doused in antibiotic ointment and have a bandaid wrapped around them.  It got so bad that I couldn’t feel the tips of my fingers anymore.  I really need to get a hold of this disease.

I guess I work hard….so you don’t have to!

There is yet another pheonomenon that I find interesting.  It is that of my mother in regards to my weight loss.  Honestly, sometimes, her ways of thinking and her priority system really does amuse me to the extent that I giggle.

At this family lunch that I mentioned in my last “Weigh In” post, I was probably the only one not over eating and obese (aside from my father who is losing weight due to health).  I would say my cousin’s daughter who is 19 was the only one dressed cute in a sun dress and looking like she weighed about 100 (she’s super cute).

However, no one noticed my weight loss enough to mention it and I would think 43 lbs is enough for someone to notice!  Or if they did notice, they didn’t mention it.  I wasn’t about to announce it because I did not want to make my over weight, over eating family feel bad.

I didn’t have to because it was my mother who suddenly felt the urge to mention “oh by the way, she’s lost weight…hey tell them how much.”

*sigh* This was not pride that prompted her to mention it…it was boasting.  Never before had I ever enjoyed the pride of being given a “hey look at MY daughter” announcement by her at a family function ever.  Usually it’s “just stay in the corner and pretend you don’t belong to me” kind of vibe I get from her.  Then again, I could be being dramatic in thinking this but it is what I feel.  I can’t deny that.

Suddenly, I work DAMN hard to lose weight and it’s her win?!  It’s her win because NOW she gets to show me off.  Oh sure, she may claimed that before when she was telling me how fat I was that she was saying it only because she doesn’t want me to have diabetes.  But now that the weight loss is happening, I didn’t hear “hey everyone, my daughter has lost 43 lbs and now she won’t have diabetes!“.  Nope, it was more like “hey everyone look at MY daughter.  Now she looks decent enough for me to announce that she is MY daughter“.

Again, I may be reading into it and being dramatic but I can’t help but come up with this conclusion.  Really…I laugh at this scenario yet, I feel sad for her because I feel like sometimes, she’s living her life through her daughters because she feels her life is over.  Honestly, I just don’t know WHAT to make of her sometimes.  She is so bi-polar I have to prepare myself when I know I MUST see her to be ready for whatever end of the spectrum her mood will be in.  It is truly exhausting.

So, even though she will still always say I’M her “difficult daughter“….no one can tell her I’m the one eating 7+ pieces of pizza in one sitting…that is for dang sure!

This is how my mother apologizes


What you see there is $20 and a Trader Joe’s gift card for $75 that I found under my door mat.  Just after finding this, was a text “keep the lines of communication open, ok?”

That is how my mother apologizes for coming into my home and disrespecting me but only after I stopped answering her texts and phone calls.  She only does it because she thinks I’m going to not allow her and my father to see The Boy.  In all honesty, that offends me because I would never deny her or my father from seeing their grandson and she knows that.  That would just be mean as they aren’t disrespectful to him.  It is just me.  Our personalities clash way to much.  And The Boy is really starting to see through all the smoke and mirrors and react to it.  And if I know his personality as he grows, he ain’t gonna put up with no B.S.  And I back him up 100%.

Also, not that I’m ungrateful for free groceries and gas money but never would she ever actually SAY “I’m sorry” because deep down, she’s doesn’t feel like she does or says anything wrong.  Even I would not claim I do nothing wrong.

So, “lines of communication” will still be on the “treading lightly” setting, for the time being.  At least for me.  And I’m actually pretty busy.  It still blows my mind that if I don’t answer her texts all the time, every time, she makes it all about herself.  I’m trying to raise a child here.  The world doesn’t revolve around her dramatics.

*sigh* This rollercoaster of drama is really making me want to vomit.  I want off now.

Regardless, this is the most of an apology I’ve ever gotten. So, it warmed my heart a bit. I still love her so much.

Emotional rollercoaster….

I tried….I really did.

I want to have a decent relationship with my sister.  I try to spend time with her and share moments.

This post isn’t about how my sister ruined my last attempt, but, once again, how our mother ruins everything.

I’m at the end of my rope now.

camel2 I have always wanted to keep a relationship going with my mother.  After all, she is my mother and birthed me and if anything keep a relationship going for my kid’s sake because she is still decent with him and he hasn’t seen how she can really be yet.  However,  the last straw has been dropped on the camel and the camel’s back, is broken.

Since, writing the above, not only was the final straw dropped on the camel, but while the camel was down, another was pummelled at him.

First, I tried to make it a day with my sister and I at Disney (California Adventure) this past Friday.  I paid for her $92 ticket to just get into DCA and I wanted her to see the Mad T Party band and take a picture with the White Rabbit DJ as the White Rabbit is her favorite character.

Proof that at least we had a decent few drama free hours:


Photo is small and grainy because I got it from the site. They are always super small.

The mistake I made was giving The Boy to my parents for the day.  I only did it because I really didn’t want to hear his whining on how we weren’t doing things he wanted to happen, but now that I think back, he really isn’t that way.

I should have just brought him with us.

Around 5pm (we had arrived at 12:30 and I paid a full day $92 ticket for my sister to get in), I get a text from our mother saying my father is in the ER with possible Kidney pains.  My phone gets no signal in ride lines which tend to go into buildings and under ground. But basically, she was wanting us to cut it short and leave.

Uh..I paid 92 fucking dollars to get my sister into the park, only to stay there for about 4 hours and not even see the show she wanted to?  But beyond that…our mother can’t even allow us to have one afternoon together, as sisters.  Believe me, she could have handled our father on her own.  What she didn’t want was my kid.

I ignored my mother’s text, as did my sister.  Cruel? Maybe but we both knew, without speaking a word to each other, this was our mother’s drama at it’s best.

An hour passes, I get a text that she called her sister to pick up The Boy and my aunt was more than happy to do it.  Well look at that, she actually figured it out.  The Boy and my aunt were fine with this situation and my mother was just being a drama queen yet again.

We leave around 9:30 to go pick up The Boy from my Aunt’s house, I’m driving and this is when I get bamboozled.

I believe it happened like this,  in bullet points because I really don’t know how it happened.

  • I’m driving, my sister calls our mother to inform her we are on our way to pick up The Boy and she keeps asking my sister where we are, what exit on the freeway and when we left.  What’s it to her! She needs to take care of our father and stop controlling everything.
  • Our mother insists that they are done (BTW, my father did end up with a Kidney stone and all my mother could care about was pestering us for the next 3 hours)
  • My sister, in her oh so “I don’t put up with this shit” way, tells our mother that she needs to slow her damn roll, get OUR FATHER his medications and get him home because he needed rest. (selfish much dear mother?)
  • Our mother then starts talking to me, I’m driving and on speaker phone. She asks what I’m doing tomorrow and I try to vaguely say I’m going clothes shopping for The Boy the next day.  Before I knew it, she invited herself and then that was that.
  • I was livid because I paid for this day with my sister, I had it cut short and interrupted and couldn’t enjoy the last few hours and now this woman is INVITING herself clothes shopping and I know why…because she wants to control what clothes I buy for the Boy. Oh yes she does.
  • Boy gets picked and once again, we are asked why we didn’t call her to tell her we had picked him up.  Because the last time I checked my sister and I WEREN’T FUCKING 15 YEARS OLD!

(it kinda makes me laugh but the day before, my sister and I took The Boy to Universal Studios. When my mother found out, first thing she said was “why didn’t you let us know and why did you bring your father and I”?

WTF?!  First, I’m 36 and don’t need mommy and daddy’s permission to go to an amusement park and 2nd, you guys are not necessarily people I want at someplace like Universal Studios.  My dad tends to get lost and forget where he’s at and my mother just sulks and complains about her knee.  Wet blankets….

But apparently, I’m supposed to let her know when I go anywhere.  Bull.shit)

It must always be about her and how she can control everyone


Jesus H. Christ……..give me strength….

More bullet points for the next day and the results of me not standing up to that woman:

The next day I prepare myself mentally but I still don’t know how I allowed this to happen. I have a guess though

  • We both go to Kohl’s ready to get a few new things for The Boy.  I have budgeted only maybe 2 new shirts and a pair of shorts. In all honesty, his current clothes are fine, I just wanted to get him something new to wear to school for the first few days.
  • Somewhere between me going to the clearance rack for shirts and the cash register, my mother shows my kid the way to expensive Tony Hawk stuff that I did not budget (about $22 a shirt) and the Vans shorts sections (about $30 a pair).
  • At the end of it all, because she did that and made me look like the meanie mom in public and in front of The Boy when I said I didn’t budget for this many $22 shirts, I was out way over $100.

Fast forward to yesterday… is due…and guess what? I don’t have it.  I call the rental company (actual the company that I work for) and am told that, per their policy, if I don’t have the rent by the 8th, I get a lawyer and sheriff’s knocking on my door and I get evicted.

That was when I had the epiphany.


This is what my mother WANTS!  As I think about it, this theory is manipulation at it’s very best.  She WANTS me to be so broke that I can’t pay my rent and have to be between homelessness and begging her for money or to come back and live with her.  She gets this from her sister, the one up in Washington, who can’t get her act together long enough to not be asking my mother for money all the damned time.

I will not go down this easily.  I’ve fought TO hard and TO long to have to give her ANY satisfaction of a win.

What did I do?  I sat my kid down and explained that his grandmother had NO right to go over my head with the shopping.  I explain that some of his shirts have to be taken back so I can get the money back into my account to pay rent.  He was good with that.  Believe me, even The Boy understands how manipulative his grandmother is.

I know what she was trying to do with the shopping thing.  I’m more mad at myself for allowing myself to be manipulated, once again.  She was just trying to out play me and, because I know her, she was trying to get me into the situation that I was currently in so that she could control me better, especially if I needed money.

That woman’s ultimate goal is to get my sister and I practically homeless so that we come crawling back to her needing a place to stay.

I would slit my wrists before I ever give her that satisfaction.

After I relaxed a bit yesterday, when my apartment was dark and quiet, I thought about what I need to do about this.

I know I’ve said it before but now I’m going to say it again.  To prevent the above from happening, I just can NOT have a relationship with her.  I.just.can’t.  And by I can’t I simply mean “I WON’T!”  I really just don’t have the energy and the patience to constantly be on guard around her because she uses mind tricks like a Jedi to manipulate situations.  This last time, she used my son by making sure she dangled the more expensive items in front of him, knowing that would make it harder for me to deal with and knowing that I was on a budget.

The woman takes on the burden of so many of her ungrateful family, her sisters, her cousins, even her dead (and the most horrible man who ever walked the planet) father still makes an appearance.  Not in the ghost sense but in the now she has to take into her home her elderly step mother as well as take care of her memory loss husband.

The small part of me that still feels sympathy for her is disappearing fast.  She takes all this on because she is controlling like that.  But then she complains that she has “so much to deal with”.  When those words are uttered…that is when my sympathy goes out the door.  She can say no to any of these family members or situations, but she doesn’t.

Oh but she will be EXTRA sure to treat myself and my sister like crap with put down after put down and insult after insult.  We are the only TWO people who have backed her up, helped her out and put up with her shit.

I have let her go forever

I do not like being manipulated and I’m FINALLY glad my sister FINALLY sees, after 30 years of knowing her, how our mother manipulates us.  I’ve been saying it for a while and it is the basis of why I really just want that woman to exit my life.

My sister tends to tell her like it is and if she doesn’t like it, my sister really couldn’t care less.  That is good, when dealing with my mother but my sister tends to be that way with me to so I never go to her for emotional support, ever.  She would tell me to grow a pair and quit whining.  However, she deals with our mother better than I.

Now that school has started, there is no reason for me to ever step foot in my mother’s house.  She does not watch The Boy while I work.  And I am making arrangements to never have to go down that road.  For the most part, the only reason I even see my parents, was because I had to drop off and pick up The Boy.

And now, she is taking in her step mother and father’s widow.  For the most part, I like this old woman.  She makes great cuban dishes and I have nothing against her.  However, she is part of a branch of the cult that we came out of and still practices a lot of it’s old ways.  Hence, no Christmas.  Christmas was something we did at my parents house with the tree and gifts and Glory to God songs playing in the backround while we baked Christmas cookies.  I can pretty much garantee that if my step-grandmother lives there, my mother will not be doing any of these things, once again, choosing others over her daughters and our family traditions. Mark my words, Christmas is no longer in that house.

Fine…my sister and I are making plans to head out to Montana to spend Christmas with our older sister.

Do these plans piss off my mother?  Oh you better believe they do and mostly because, our older sister is not her daughter but our father’s.  Yet, because my mother is the controlling factor between my parents and she knows that she controls my ailing father, my father is not going to be allowed to go with us to visit his own daughter (my older sister) and two other grandkids.

You see where the manipulation starts to turn ugly?

So now, my interaction with that woman will be reduced to the occasional text of “yes we are still alive now leave me alone” and whenever she goes to The Boy’s hockey lesson.  And that is all.


The account….is closed.

I have a little exercise I would like each and every one of you to do, just for me.

I want you to think about someone you love.  Maybe your husband, maybe your parents or your kids.

Now, think about if they died.  Humor me, and do it…

What do you feel?? You feel sadness, hurt, you maybe want to cry?

I feel nothing when I think of my mother no longer on this earth….just nothing.  When God finally decides to take her away from us, I will feel nothing.  I believe, if I were to feel anything it will be a sense of truly and finally being…

Until then, she is now someone who I will go out of my way to avoid at any costs from here until God takes one of us.  She only has herself to blame.

“I have a difficult daughter and I have an easy daughter”

My mother once told me that she related her daughters as having a “difficult” daughter and having an “easy” daughter.

Apparently, the difficult daughter is labeled such only because she is different. That, would be me.

I only have one sibling. My sister is 6 years younger than me. She is smart, independent and says it like it is (saying she is “blunt” is putting it lightly).

Note: Technically, I also have an older half sister and older half brother but they were from my father’s previous marriage and even though I am in contact with my older sister occasionally, I did not live with her nor really share a life with her.  My older brother, none of us talk to at all, but that is a different story.

I have always felt that God played a little joke on me and made me the older sister, by age only. In essence, I have always felt that my younger sister should have been the older one and I, the younger. Our roles were always reversed compared to what the norm of what older and younger siblings are usually like. I was what you would call the “black sheep”, always arguing with my parents, always making the wrong choices. My sister, did everything to please them, did everything right. She went to the Christian high school while I chose to go to a public. She obliged them (and when I say “them” I mostly mean our mother) while I made it a point to buck heads and have a totally different opinion on everything.  I actually believe I’m more like my father, very easy going, plain and simple.

The Shabby Chic Look (Photo from

My sister is the one who bought the two story condominium at the age of 28 while I went on to marry the wrong man, had a child, went through a divorce, became a single parent and now live in a small, 755 square foot, 2 bedroom apartment that I pay WAY to much for.

Even the way that my sister’s house is decorated is the same taste as our mother’s. It is what you would call Shabby Chic where the colors are very bright, pink, frilly and fluffy (it makes my teeth hurt just describing it).

Even the walls in this photo are to light for me, but this is close enough. (Photo from

I prefer the darker contemporary look, where the furniture is either a dark brown or black. Cabinets in the kitchen must be dark, not white or oak, with stainless steel appliances. I like dark frames on the wall art and walls a darker color like maybe a dark red or brown. If I went lighter in color, it would not be pink or beige.  It would be grey (something my mother has winced over hearing).

My apartment and my sisters’ house are two polar opposites of the interior decorating spectrum.

Another aspect of difference is along the lines of baking and cooking. I don’t like doing either. I just am not that good at it and I don’t have the patience for cooking and especially baking and/or decorating baked good, such as cakes. My mother was a cake decorator when she was younger. She made the most amazing cakes for her time, which was in the late 70’s and early 80’s. She never did it professionally nor did she ever open up her own business. She just did the cakes for friends and family.

My sister, of course, inherited that talent from her. My sister makes the most amazing cupcakes. She patiently molds fondant and pipes icing onto cupcakes and cakes with such ease.  That is just something I could never grasp. I have tried to sit and ice a cupcake with her a few times but my “flowers” come out so pathetic I just feel ashamed.

Below are the actual photos of the creations that they have made. They decorated these on their own, in their own kitchens.

I did once try to create something and try my luck with fondant but it just turned out to be a sad shove into reality that cake decorating was just not my thing.

I went for something Halloween themed. This was supposed to be a graveyard with the fence. It got some laughs :)

I went for something Halloween themed. This was supposed to be a graveyard with the fence. It got some laughs 🙂

In all honesty, I do admire this talent they have.

I think that because my mother and sister are so similar in personality may be why my mother never knows what I like. She is not familiar with it. That labels me, in her mind, as difficult. I’m sure it’s much easier for her to relate to the one daughter who she understands and has similarities to.  Although, I have never agreed with the theory that just because someone is different automatically makes them difficult.

I’m reminded of a quote from A League of Their Own. This is the scene where the younger sister, Kit, is pointing out to her older sister, Dottie, that their parents favor Dottie over Kit.

Kit Keller: You ever hear Dad introduce us to people? “This is our daughter Dottie, and this is our other daughter, Dottie’s sister.” Should’ve just had you and bought a dog!

That is the phrase that runs through my thoughts about this subject. My parents should have had my sister and just bought her a dog.  Or maybe our personalities would have been suited better if we were able to just switch sibling rolls. I believe my sister would have been able to handle my mother better if she had been the first to be born and start the relationship off with issues. My sister can talk to both our parents better than I can. I tend to always approach them ready for a fight, because that is how it has always been with us, especially with our mother. I don’t understand my mother sometimes and I will admit to sometimes not having the energy or the patience to deal with her. Just like with the patience she puts into her cake creations, my sister has the patience to tolerate a little more drama. I just have a short patience fuse when it comes to dramatics.

In our younger years, my sister and I didn’t agree a lot and had a few falling outs. But as of lately, it’s been nice to go over to her house and just talk.  I know that she understands my aversion to keeping a solid relationship with our mother and I understand why she is capable of keeping that solid relationship with her.  A lot of her views I don’t necessarily agree with but I’m sure she feels the same about me.

The irony of our labels as the Difficult or Easy Daughter lies within the fact that one of us is a recovering alcoholic, sex addict, drug addict, compulsive over eater and self mutilator.

I can tell you with all certainty, it is NOT the Difficult Daughter.

You can treat me like shit all you want….but

You can treat me like shit all you want….but when you start to disregard my kids’ feelings, that crosses the line.

Let me explain this with some back story about this weekend:

For the Memorial Day weekend, I had some extra money so I decided to take a small mini-trip out to Long Beach. I wanted to take The Boy to The Aquarium of the Pacific on Sunday.  So Saturday, we drove the 1 hour out there then stayed at a hotel there in downtown Long Beach only about 5 minutes from the Aquarium.  It was a Marriott and it was ok. It didn’t have room service and there was a very loud bunch of people partying two doors down from me late at night that I had to complain about but they took care of it fast enough.  The restaurant it did have was pretty expensive but it had to do as there wasn’t much close by and I didn’t want to be walking or driving the streets of Long Beach alone trying to find something. It did have a pool which The Boy enjoyed and a great exercise room with little T.V.’s attached to each machine. That was nice.

My room also had a great view of the Queen Mary from the balcony:

Taken from thebalcony of my room. See the Queen Mary?

Taken from the balcony of my room. See the Queen Mary?

On Sunday, after we spent a few hours at the Aquarium we ate at Bubba Gump’s Shrimp Co. which was right across from the Aquarium. Then we walked around the harbor and took some photos around the lighthouse there and just enjoyed the ocean breeze.  We were even able to see a Sea Lion swim up to the harbor and catch 2 fish! He was also talking to us. The Boy got a kick out of that.  I have a SD card full of photos but I haven’t had a chance to get them onto my computer yet. That will be coming soon. Lots of great Aquarium photos.

Anyway, here is the reason for my above beginning statement.  Just as a safety precaution, when I go out of town like this, I let my sister know when I will be gone and what hotel I will be at. Apparently, even though I told my mother a few days before that I was going to be driving down to Long Beach, she was upset that she didn’t get told all the information, as I told my sister.

First, I don’t need to ask her permission to take a trip out of town (which is really what she was wanting me to do, ask for her permission). Second, I did not want to tell her the info because, in all honesty, she gets upset when I do things like this and starts to discourage it. She says that I can’t and shouldn’t take trips with The Boy alone (uh…I’m single mom, how else am I going to do it?!).  Her reasoning is because I don’t have a husband and will get killed. No joke…her words. I tend to try and stay away from her negativity on things like this.

First of all, I do not take these trips at night nor do I take my 9 year old and roam unfamiliar streets at night. I get a hotel  in well populated areas and do research before booking. I recently took a trip to Sea World in San Diego and that was a 2 hour drive away and I also took the same precautions. My mother constantly wants to point out that A) I don’t have a man around and B) that I can’t take care of my kid properly.

jealousI have since figured out that she is just jealous. This theory has also been confirmed by my sister, who agrees that this is the case. Commandent #10 Thou shalt not covet (jealousy). Oh how I can not tolerate hypocrisy especially when she was telling me just days before I was a bad mother because I had missed some church. Yeah, remember that CULT you brought us up in Mother? Don’t bring God into it. 

Anyway, my sister was at our mother’s house all weekend (my mother gets along better with my sister because my sister tolerates her better than I do. I tend to get really exhausted of her drama). Come Monday, I call up my mother and say that I wanted to come over and The Boy wanted to show her the pictures he took with his camera at the Aquarium. At this point, I pretty much have no idea that she is mad at me for taking a trip to Long Beach. She tells me no, I am not welcome and I’m taken aback (first thing I think is WTF did I do now?!). I say, well The Boy would like to show you his pictures and she very curtly says no she doesn’t want visitors. At this point, I realize she doesn’t want to see me, fine. So then I offer to just drop off The Boy so he can show her his pictures.  To that she says no. This hurt The Boy because she is never this way to him, only me. (oh how he will soon start to see how cold and cruel his grandmother can be….I’ve seen it all my life but he will soon start to pull away, as I have).


We were already in the car, ready to go and I just happened to think I should call before arriving unannounced even though she says we can show up anytime. So we are sitting in the car, The Boy is on the verge of tears, I already am fighting back tears because this woman hurt my boy and it’s like I see my childhood, through him, how she has hurt me so many times in the past with her cold words.

I think quick for a distraction and suggest to The Boy that we go to Gamestop and trade in his old games and get him a new one (something he’s been wanting to do for a while but been forgetting to do). This proved a good plan and The Boy was better.

Later, my sister joined us and we had a nice lunch.  She told me of her weekend with our mother and she explained to me that our mother is stressed because she is preparing to move her elderly step mother into her house (her father died back in September leaving her step mother needing to be cared for). She is also stressed that she is also caring for my memory loss father. His doctor doesn’t want to give him the diagnosis of Dementia because he thinks he’s to young to have that but pretty much, that is the diagnosis. My father is 62.  She also has a problem with her knee and will be needing surgery in June.

Now, I understand my mother’s is stressed and she hates how her life is going (hence the jealousy at my freedom to get in a car and take a mini road trip).  She has said she wanted to travel in her Golden Years but now she’s taking care of elderly people and stuck at home. I can see how that is frustrating, I WOULD be frustrated.


You’re on the road to a lonely life, Mother.

However, that does not mean that she should push away the ONLY people who have been there for her since all of this madness started. The only people who haven’t left it ALL up to her to deal with are my sister and I.  Granted, my sister may have helped more by being there more emotionally for my mother but I just don’t have that kind of relationship with our mother and I am a mother myself and will always put my child first (something that I think my mother is also jealous about, that I put someone else first, above her…).  We have helped her through A LOT of trauma in the past 10 years caused by her family. Her own two sisters leave a lot of this up to her because they are too selfish to do anything else. 

My mother has already told my sister that she knows I’ve been pushing away from her, limiting my time at her house and she is right. In essence, I only visit so that The Boy can have some time with his grandparents but with the way its going pretty soon its going to be me just dropping The Boy off and I leave. For me, I would be fine to never see her more than a few times a year. That is probably as much as I can take of her mind games, manipulations, guilt trips and “whoa is me” drama. Until she gets her priorities straight I can’t tolerate her attitude nor mask my disgust for it.  As harsh as that sounds, it is how I feel. I have my own child to raise and think about. I don’t really have time for her drama.

So now, I have to worry about what mood she will be in as I have scheduled her to watch The Boy on Friday’s and Monday’s in June and July, which was at her request as she always lays down on me the guilt trip that The Boy is her only joy in her life. OH yeah, that was very apparent yesterday when you told him he wasn’t welcome at your house all because you were jealous that he and I took a trip to Long Beach. 

NOW, who’s being selfish…..

*sigh* Regardless,  I’m ready to ask for any of those days off if needed since I have already put in his summer schedule with the summer camp, which can’t be changed unless I pay a fee. I will probably end up paying the fee if that happens.  But this is how my mother is and has been my whole life.

I was invited to guest blog at Black Box Warnings and I tossed around what I would blog about. I thought of what has affected me most in my life. Is it my current loneliness? My life as Single Mother? Maybe my short married life ending in divorce? 

In the end, I chose to write about my mother and why, after 36 years,  I realize that I neither want nor care for a close knit relationship with her.  She is what I like to call an Emotional Vampire and I think for my own sanity, I keep a safe distance.

That guest post will show up early June.

Some history: My Relationship with My Mother

I will just say that my mother and I really just do not see eye to eye at all and we never have. She is NOT my best friend, as I have seen some women claim their own mothers are just that. If she was not family and the woman who gave me life, I would not associate with her. Her theories are so backwards it’s unbelievable. As I said in my Black Widow Dream entry, I am VERY careful with what I share with her because she is the type of person who will take a weakness about me and absolutely exploit it just to make herself feel powerful. The funny thing about this is, she only does this with me. To the outside public, she is a saint.

The History:

Her and I have bucked heads since the day I was born, when I actually almost killed her coming out of her. As morbid as that sounds, it is the truth. I mention this because, it is for that reason that I still honor and respect her because, she did birth me and she deserves that in the very least.

Also, it should be expressed that she lost her own mother at the age of 9 and had to raise her 3 younger siblings at that age, as a mother would. My grandmother died of Kidney failure at the age of 35. I am 36, I carry my Grandmother’s name and when I finally passed 35 I breathed a sign of relief because I to, have had Kidney problems in the past. I’m superstitious like that sometimes.

Moving on, growing up, it was quickly established who was the “man” in the house. My father gave up his “cahones” the minute he married her. She was very manipulative and would have bouts of absolute hysteria (now, looking back, I realize she was probably severely bipolar and a manic-depressive). I remember it, my sister, has blocked a lot of it out.  There are also other family issues that arose many times dealing with my mother’s father, who is now dead.

Side Note: I will never feel well speaking ill of the dead but this man, my mother’s father, well let’s just say I really do NOT think he is sitting at the right hand of God. He did horrible things to my family, my mother, sister, aunts and to his last breath he never asked for forgiveness. He died lonely with only my mother and his wife by his side, the only two women he apparently had a strong hold on. He had 7 children (one that is out there but never was brought into the family), none were there. He had numerous grandchildren, none were there. He even had numerous great-grandchildren, one of which is my son and none were there. I can assure you, it was not without good cause, that he died practically alone. At the funeral, as I looked around, the only people who really “mourned” him were those who didn’t know what kind of man he really was. I know I was just there to pay respect to a life, even if it wasn’t lived all that well but if he hadn’t lived, then neither would I be living.

Moving on, I know my mother suffered in her childhood and there isn’t a day that goes by where I hate that she suffered. Because of her suffering and the sins of her father and the unfortunate death of her own mother, my sister and I suffered. Tremendously. But a lot of who she is today isn’t her fault.

A lot of my mistakes in my choice of husband not only had to deal with low self esteem and thinking no one else would want me but it also included the fact that I wanted to get away from my manipulative and controlling mother.

I realized that I would never get away from her as long as I continued a relationship with her, no matter where I was in life.

Life in her house, after my divorce:

When I lived with her after my divorce and while my son was a baby, the manipulations were tremendous because now, she was using my son.

Oh and where is my father in all this….the man did whatever she wanted, followed whatever she did and if his daughters were hurting, crying, in pain because of his wife’s words, it didn’t matter. He was her puppy, not one ounce of backbone. But, just as I still respect my mother for giving me life, I do the same for my father because he worked hard to provide for his children and wife. I will always respect that and for teaching us to work and not wait for “hand outs”. He had his own family history to blame for it (another entry maybe?).

I was 28 and living in my parents’ house with a small baby. Not a good combination. It was their house, their rules so there was no way I was ever going to be a mother the way I wanted to be a mother.

I wanted to be a fun mother. Not the “I will be your best friend, son” type of mother because I don’t think a mother and child can be “best friends”. But they can be friends. I wanted to go on adventures. I got a Disneyland Annual Pass when my son was 10 months old and that was the first time he went to Disneyland. It ended up being a routine just about every Tuesday, my day off from work.

My mother, did not make life easy. She constantly put me down, which I should be used to by now because even to this day (more on that later) she still finds a way to put me down. She would tell me everything I’m doing wrong.

For example, I was giving my son soup for lunches and forgot to put the one can of water into the soup. She was determined to convince me that because I was not putting the one can water into the soup that The Boy was breaking out in a rash. I do not make this stuff up. She berated me for forgetting to put the water in the soup and there was my father, right behind her just nodding his head.

Thinking back on that now, it’s laughable because the me of today would have laughed in her face (as sometimes I do when she starts to come up with silly notions again). She would make sure one little mistake I made was blown up to the size of a mountain and that it was cause for The Boy’s demise.

I do recall one incident that showed me that some how, some way, I needed to Master the Jedi Art of Ignore when it came to my mother.

I had just lost my job. It was not a high point in my life. I fixed The Boy some waffles and eggs for breakfast. He was being fussy and didn’t want to eat and threw a fit. I put him in his room for a time out. My mother came into the kitchen screaming at me that I was a horrible mother, that I didn’t know how to do anything and couldn’t even keep a job…on and on.

What happened next, in my head was like something you would see in a movie. I could hear her voice screaming at me I could feel the angry and frustration building up and I could feel myself using all my power to push the anger down. It’s like her voice was in a distance and I was losing it.

What she did next was not unfamiliar to how she handled things. She took the plate that had hot eggs and waffles on it and threw it directly at me, spilling it all over me and the kitchen counter. (it was not uncommon for her, throughout my childhood and teen years, to grab the first closest thing she could and throw it at me. If she was close enough a good slap to my face was the next best thing. Although the last time she physically hit me was when she punched me in the stomach at a restaurant in Palm Springs back in the summer of 2007.)

So after the plate of food was thrown at me, this is what I recall happened next.

I rose my hand, half to block the egg that was being thrown at me and half to just throw my hands in the air in disgust at this woman.

She, in turn raised her arm and stepped back. At the time, I’m assuming she thought that with the raising of my arm, I was going to assault her.

She then stepped backwards and tripped over the counter stool and fell back, bruising her arms and leg.

That is what I saw…her story was different.

She said I pushed her, full force into the fireplace area causing her to fall.


She told my sister this, my sister comes home from work telling me off. She is crying and whoa is me and then my dad comes in telling me off.

I’m astonished how she has the power to make others see what is not there.

I am the bad guy in that scenario. I grabbed my kid, got in my car and spent the next 3 days after that in San Diego, where I took my kid to the Zoo for the first time.

When I returned, to keep peace, I apologized. But never, not once, did I receive an apology from her for actually assaulting me with a hot plate of food. However, as I mentioned before, it was not uncommon for her, in the past to throw the first thing she could grab and chuck it at me. Or if she was close enough, a slap to my face worked best for her.

It was then, I realized, this woman will do and say anything to make her look white as snow….I see the game being played now.

Moving on, in April of 2011, I moved out of their house and into my own apartment. It was tough and money was non-existent but it was my home. It was a smooth move with little drama because it was necessary to get my son into a good school district and at least we agreed on that. Where my parents live is not the best of school districts or cities for that matter and on that  subject, I put my foot down and said I will get The Boy into the best school district I can. And I did.

The Relationship I have with my Mother today:

For the past two years, being in my own home and out of hers was an interesting transition for our relationship. She still believed that she could come into MY home, as if it was her own, and belittle me, put me down and berate me. She could not. This was MY home, my money paid for this home, I pay the bills, I AM THE MOTHER HERE.


She did not like being out of the control box.

Even just as recently as last night the occasional belittling comes out. My parents finally came over to help with the last, oh, 5 boxes of my move (The Boy and I had already moved the bulk of 40+ boxes but hey, they came over for the last 5). She begins to put me down on why The Boy has allergies, why he was dirty (uh, we had just gotten home…showers hadn’t been taken yet), why his toe nails weren’t clipped.  *sigh*

I wanted to say, “none of your f-ing business…” but of course, could not. I bit my tongue. And when I say BIT MY TONGUE….I mean I literally bite my tongue. Sometimes to the point of bleeding.

She then walks around my home telling me how dirty everything is. Uh, we are moving…of course it’s a bit messy, believe me the mess drives me nuts. It’s just put down after put down. More tongue biting….

This was all last night. Granted, her visits are VERY far and few between because, well because I just can’t stomach her sometimes. So she rarely comes over. I usually go to her house or we all eat out at a restaurant. The latter is my favorite choice because in public, things stay neutral.

For the most part, I’ve learned to be more patient with her. She is getting older and more tired which is why her rants may be getting fewer. She does have a lot on her plate right now. She is taking care of her step-mother’s affairs such as bills and expenses. She has to deal with the dramas of her sisters and just recently one of her sisters died in a car crash.

She has to deal with my father’s failing memory. Although, I believe on that count she is becoming more and more impatient and the way she treats him sometimes is just downright rude. Last night, he was having trouble getting one word out (the speech has gotten worse over the past 6 months to the point where he can’t put 3 words together) and she hit his face. Now, not a full on slap but just tapped his cheek. I think she saw the look of horror on my face and explained that sometimes, if he can’t get the words out, she will tap his face. I ask if she does this in public and the disgust must have been visibly apparent on my face because she didn’t answer and just turned away.


To wrap this up, my mother is not my best friend. My best friend died of cancer in January of 2006.

As of right now, in this time and place in my life, my mother is a relationship I keep at arms length and am very wary about. I do not confide in her alot, if at all and I do not let her see that I can break down. She no longer sees me cry and I have mastered the ability to be able to walk away when she starts to pick a fight with me, something that continues to happen to this very day.

I love the woman, I always will. But let me picture it this way….

Our relationship is like Regina and Cora’s from Once Upon a Time. Regina loved her mother, Cora, but Cora was an evil witch who used magic to manipulate Regina. Yet, Regina ALWAYS returns to the mother who has betrayed her numerous times.

That is me. I will always have loyalties to my mother, she almost died giving birth to me. But will I ever respect her and confide in her…no. She never gave hugs. Not once, ever, has she said “I love you” but states that her actions show it. M…kay….

She is who she is because of her past and I am who I am because of her past. That is how it will go from here until one of us is no longer on this earth. And when that happens, we will both be at peace with each other.