What other shoe?

Oh, yes.  That one.  The one I was waiting for and nearly thought wasn’t coming.  But no, oh no, no, no.  There it is.

My mother has gone batshit cray cray.  Putting humor to this is the only way my mind can cope because this is just…Blank.  Wordless.  My mind can’t fathom it.

For years, my mind, the big parts, the little parts (especially the wee little ones), held onto my mother being the sane one.  Being the more protective and safe of the two.  She yells and slams the door and I sit outside of it crying as a 6 year old and begging her to forgive me for God knows what?  Doesn’t matter.  Her arms were safer than his.

She would tell me I was selfish right after my parents divorced and I wasn’t taking care of her needs enough.   She still didn’t call me a bitch like he did.  She would tell me I was beautiful… during the times she wasn’t criticizing me about my weight.

She cried on the side of the road and told me her life was a deep, dark depressive hole.  I had her move in with me so that her burden of paying so much rent could be lifted and perhaps she could escape the wrath of my father.  It did not happen.

I cut off contact with my father, and instead of being proud of me, she begged me to apologize to him for the sake of her life and her job. I was getting stronger.  I did not apologize, but I told him to take out his battles with me and not her.  She was still unhappy with this.

She kept expecting my constant apologies like I always used to give, but I continued to grow stronger, thanks to my friends, my job, my therapy, my ever-growing, ever-changing adult life forcing me to establish my own identity, separate from her.  She did not, and has not, been getting those apologies.  I am now labeled as a selfish person who fails to take the blame for the “thoughtless behavior that I unleash on others.”

I am now labeled as “physically violent.”  My mother tried to physically restrain me the other night, grabbing my wrists.  I made a motion, not a violent one, but an automatic reaction to pull my hands away, and she fell backwards.  Dramatically.  I say this because she has openly admitted to a friend and me that she has intentionally thrown herself off of the stairs for attention (then quickly added, as a child, as an afterthought).  Coincidentally, a similar incident happened a couple of months ago.

Back to our argument.  She fell.  I tried to go to my room and requested she go downstairs, to her basement apartment, which we agreed would be kept separate from my upstairs apartment.  I shut my bedroom doors.  She yelled at me through the doors that I will be alone for the rest of my life if I continue to act this way.  I opened the doors and told her, “What right do you have to say that, seeing as I am the one with a plethora of friends and you stay home alone all day?”

She did not hear this.  I walked past her to get the phone to call my friend so that it would diffuse the conversation.  I tried to walk out the front door.  She blocked my way and I pushed past her.  She fell down again.  Her arm reached out for the banister as she fell, and then she took it back.  She never makes any attempts to catch herself.

She screamed at me that I will be alone for the rest of my life.  Curious how this started?  It all started because she spoke again with my ex-boyfriend who is only 20 years old (I am 25), and he told her intimate details about his sexual abuse.  She proceeded to tell me as if it would make me want to get back together with him. She started to tell me details.  I stopped her and I said, “Before you go any further, have you even thought about what effect this might have on me?”

She ignored me.  I took that as a no.  And it hit me…She is pissed that I won’t tell her any fucking details about my sexual abuse from my father – her ex-husband. And I realized that I want nothing to do with this woman.  Nothing.

I packed a bag and left.  I stayed at a hotel that night and spent the next with a friend.  I am stuck in this house agreement with her until we’ve earned some equity and can sell it.  She has plans to renovate her downstairs area.  I asked her to please prioritize the door separating our two floors and that I would like a lock on my side.  She agreed.

She sent me a scathing text telling me to “NEVER touch her in a violent way EVER again.”  I told her I don’t want to be around her.  She said, “Trust me, I won’t go anywhere near you.”  Apparently, I have the whole world snowed.  All of my friends, my therapist, everyone I meet.  None of them know the “real me.” Only her and my ex-boyfriend.

Apparently, I am a threat.  Maybe I should wear a mask like Anthony Hopkins in Silence of the Lambs.

It’s too bad…. My fingers are so tired from typing all of this, I don’t even feel like typing out the whole story of the guy that came to my door and requested a “ride” from me, had scoped out my house earlier in the day and was convicted of kidnapping, assault, and robbery a year prior, and the police hardly did a thing. It’s been a fun few days.


A revelation

I found out today that my father had a sexual harassment suit against him a couple years ago.

I keep thinking that if I’d taken action against him, that would never have happened. And I’m being hit, more and more, with the realization that maybe what I seem to remember did really happen. Because, apparently, I still don’t trust my memories.

And I also keep thinking that now, if I do take legal action, maybe I wouldn’t be blown off. He has quite a history with the law – embezzling, tax evasion, now sexual harassment – although, somehow, he’s managed to avoid major jail time. The most time he’s spent in jail is a week for embezzling many years ago.

My mother was the one who shared with me that he had a sexual harassment suit against him, and she said that what the woman said about him was “outrageous” but that she believes every word of it. But I still adamantly know that she would not believe me if I told her about him, because she always insists that he used to truly love me. No wonder my idea of love is totally convoluted.

He is truly a psychopath. He’s copied me on emails recently that he has exchanged with my mother regarding their divorce. He sent me a copy of the divorce papers he was served with last week and copied me on another a couple days ago. After not having any contact with him since last year, I’m finding it hard to get these emails from him.

So, I’m feeling very triggered right now. I wish I had someone to talk to about this, but I don’t, not really. I see new T next week, but I’m not sure if this is something I’ll be ready to talk to her about. Last week was our first session, and I like her so far, but this is such very personal stuff to share with someone I hardly know. I feel painfully alone with this at the moment.

The inevitable truth

I think I mentioned a while ago that I was thinking about going on a vacation over my birthday.  Well, for various reasons I never did.  But I am now, and I’m excited. Except for a couple of things which I’m just going to set aside for now so that I can enjoy the trip.

In the last post, I explained the growing situation with my parents.  Well, I had taken the situation as an opportunity to break off contact with my father.  I explained to my mother that  I was not going to try to patch things up this time.  She told me that was fine.  I just didn’t think that I would have needed to ask her not to patch things up for me, but apparently I should have.  Because now I’m back at square one.  Maybe even further back.

I got an email from my mother a few days ago saying that she didn’t think my father would be angry with me anymore and that he won’t be asking for an apology from me anymore.  I was suspicious.  So I called her and asked her what she did.  She said that she explained to him that I am simply an immature kid who needs to have a mature adult to show me the appropriate way to act.  Hearing this made me a bit sick to my stomach, and I felt a quick burst of anger flow through me, but I didn’t say anything.  She said that she doesn’t actually think that about me but that she was just telling my father “what he wanted to hear” to get him off my back.  I don’t believe her.  She so easily lies to him, in elaborate ways, that I see absolutely no reason why she wouldn’t be doing the same thing with me.  My therapist agreed with me…unfortunately.

I feel defeated.  My attempt to do something that I thought was healthy for me has now been interpreted as immature – something a kid would do.  Like a defiant teenager acting out against a parent for no legitimate reason.

I didn’t say anything to my mother about what she told him, because nothing good could come of confronting her about it at that time.  So I let it lie.  But when I was in therapy the other day, I started talking through the situation and came to a realization.  I have two options.  Either I stay a part of this contorted, abusive, dysfunctional web that is my family, or I break off from them.  I no longer have the option of breaking off from just my father.  As long as my mother is enmeshed with him, if I want to cut contact with my father, I’ll have to do it with both of my parents.  My mother, despite her faults, does try hard to love me, and it seems unfair to her for me to punish her for his behavior.  And that’s exactly what I’d be doing if I cut contact with them.  My T pointed out to me that my father is essentially using my mother as a weapon against me, because he knows that if she’s angry or upset with me, that it makes me feel guilty.  So even if I stay in contact with her, it’s still like he has a way of getting to me.

As I was explaining this to T, I was speaking somewhat matter-of-factly.  She asked me if I realized what I was saying and kept trying to remind me of the gravity of the situation.  I feel resigned, because some part of me knew that this was always going to be the case, no matter how I tried to get around it.  My T then started talking about the fear I’d felt the last time and that it seems like immediately after I have any contact with my father, in any form, I have serious internal repercussions.  She seemed to talk around what she really wanted to say, which was: no more.  Keep him out.

She’s right, I know she is.  Maybe the timing is right.  T and I had a wonderful conversation last time, one that affirmed my trust in her and reassured me that she’s in this for the long haul.  I know for sure that I have someone to support me if (when?) I take that step with my parents, because it won’t be easy.  I may not do it today, or tomorrow, but I don’t think I’ll make it through another holiday season with them.

In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy a nice four days off from work and the first vacation I’ve had in 6 years.  Happy Thursday, everyone!

A vacation and a trip to Nothingness

I decided this week that I’m going to take a vacation in a couple of months for my birthday.  Yes I am, yes I am, yesIamyesIamyesIamyesIam (Friends reference).

I haven’t taken one in 6 years, and even though I hate my body right now, I am going to go to the beach.  I don’t have many friends anymore since most moved away after graduation, and I’m about 10 years younger than everyone at work – and they all have families – so I toyed with the idea of going by myself.  That way, I wouldn’t have to worry about being in a bathing suit around someone I know and worrying what they’ll think.  I’ll think that of complete strangers, but I won’t ever see them again.

But I couldn’t make the leap to go ahead and book a room and plan to be by myself.  While it felt liberating and I was excited to just do whatever I wanted for a few days, it also depressed me.  I would feel too self-conscious to go to restaurants by myself.  I would probably feel very self-conscious in general being by myself, wondering what people thought of me.  I know I should get over that, but I couldn’t rationalize spending money on a trip that I may spend being utterly miserable… Continue reading


My dog, Sprout, is absolutely petrified of loud noises. Thunder, fireworks…he hates all of it. On stormy nights like tonight, he shakes violently and will make sad little whimpers because he just can’t control it. He’s too scared. So I’ll call him to me and he’ll scurry over and latch himself to my side and look at me with big eyes as if to tell me just how scared he is. So I just cuddle with him, trying to make him feel protected and safe – at least as much as I can. I always feel a pang of sadness seeing him so distressed over something that I, the logical, rational, reasoning human, know can’t hurt him. But I always know that the fear of those loud noises is very real to him.

Sometimes on nights like these, when I’m trying my hardest to help him feel safe, I wonder if this is how my T feels sometimes. I’ve been shaking in her arms before – several times, actually. But thinking of it just makes me feel pathetic and childish. When I think of it I just wonder, how could she stand it? How could she not see it as a complete overreaction or just plain theatrics? I wish I could cherish her care in those moments, but I can’t. I wasn’t the one in her arms. The scared, hurt child was. Continue reading

It’s not gone yet??

My favorite show of all time, Friends, has been my therapy this weekend. Phoebe is my interim therapist.

I fully expected that I’d wake up this morning and the anger I’d felt all day yesterday would be gone and I’d be over it. It’s not, I’m not. I’m still angry. And now I’m angry and grieving at the same time. I just want to collapse (ideally in T’s office), but since I’m starting my new job in the morning, I need to muster so much (fake-ish) confidence right now that it’s going to kill me. Continue reading


They had to tell someone else to hug her when she started crying. I wouldn’t do it.

I realized today that I’m angry with my mother. I’m never angry. I realized this after my mother’s friends decided to have an intervention (I thought I was just there for dinner) to try and get her to break free of the toxic cycle she’s in with my father. I heard all of her excuses for why she should stay enmeshed with him, excuses that have been built up year after miserable year. She thinks she’s the one manipulating him, but she’s not. She thinks that I’ve been fine. That since I turned out okay that he must not have affected me very much. But he has. In ways she doesn’t know. She thinks that God wants her to stay in his life. She thinks he should stay in mine. He shouldn’t. He can’t. Continue reading