Today Christmas came over and they started talking about our old neighbor Ray, who supposedly told my mother he had cancer right before we moved away.  So I walked into the room and said "Are you guys talking about Ray?"  They both said "Yes!  That's his name!  We couldn't remember.  Did you hear he has cancer?" I just smiled and said "Good.  I hope that motherfucker is dead."  

And my mother....she hasn't learned by now that when I talk like that, it's for a damn good reason.  Her immediate response was to roll her eyes and ignore me, as though I was being dramatic.  So I politely repeated myself.  Louder this time.  And that prompted Christmas to want me to spill the tea.  So, I complied.  

I turned to my mother and said "Remember when we had Thanksgiving dinner over at his sister's house?  You were there.  His sister and niece were there.  Your brother was there.  And me, Mr. Brooks, and the kids were all there?  Remember that?"  She thought for a moment and said "Yes, I remember that."  I said "Well, Ray was at the head of the table, I was on his left, and Mr. Brooks was my left.  We were all squished together and Ray...he started groping me under the table."  And my mother's immediate response was to say "Maybe he thought it was the table leg?"  And Christmas, bless her honest little brilliant heart, whipped around and looked at my mother and said "Who freaking gropes a table leg??!"  

It's funny.  My entire childhood was spent thinking that Christmas was mentally disabled.  I had never met her until I was an adult, but my mother spent my whole childhood telling me that Christmas was "retarded".  And she'd make a derpy face and pulled her hands up to her chest as though she had cerebral palsy.  So, I grew up believing her friend was mentally slow.  Turns out...Christmas?  Is smarter than my mother.  Always has been.  In fact, I think if we gave my mom an IQ test, it would show she was somewhat developmentally disabled.  Funny...she was talking about herself the entire time.  True narcissist fashion.

Anyways, I said "Yes, that's what I wondered in the moment, so I pulled my legs away.  And instead, he just pushed himself closer to me and did it again.  And you know it was abusive, and not meant in any way to be hot or consensual, because when I turned to look at him when he was doing it, he was laughing and talking to everyone else, as though he wasn't doing anything at all under the table."  She replied "I would have said something.  I would have jumped up and called him out on it!"  No she would not have.  But that's besides the point.  I replied "That wouldn't have worked.  Him carrying on those conversations gave him plausible deniability.  If I had shouted or called him out on it, he would say 'I am sorry, that was an accident!'  And he'd have witnesses to it, as everyone would say 'He was just talking to us, there was no way that was on purpose!' And nobody would have believed me.  I may not have believed me.  I would have thought I overreacted and gaslit myself into believing it.  The only thing I could do was to get up and leave and then embarrass him later by calling him out on it.  Which I did."  (I did not use the big words with my mother or Christmas...they wouldn't have known what I meant, but I said something similar that was more to their understanding levels).  

So Christmas asked me what I did.  I said "Last year I sent his niece a Christmas card.  And I told her exactly what he did that day.  I also told her that if anyone else in her family has ever accused him of anything, or if she, herself, had ever had him do something to her, to know he's capable of horrible things.  And to believe whoever has come forward."  His niece, Debbie, is older than me, so I wasn't sending a card to a kid or anything.  And Ray is probably in his 80's now.  They both were surprised he did such thing and I know Christmas believed me, but since my mother adores Ray, she will put it to the back of her mind and promptly forget about it.  AND she will make a point of bringing him up from now on, just to hurt me, just like she does with my cousins.  

Then my mother switched the conversation to something weird, because of course she did.  She liked Ray.  She doesn't like conflict when it doesn't involve her.  

Before this conversation that I joined in on, my mother was busy running her mouth.  She's as quiet a church mouse (why is that a saying? mice are not quiet....) the rest of the time, but the minute she has an audience for her show, she will turn it on full force.  Poor Christmas could barely talk herself as my mother kept talking over her.  The exaggerations.  The lies.  And mostly, the things made to make me sound like a bad caretaker.  But, as in true covert fashion, she didn't just come out and say it.  She hinted to it (something she does quite regularly now, usually about the food I feed her).  

First, she kept talking about how freezing her room was.  Like the point of it being horrible.  I was confused, she never told me her room was freezing.  She just kept talking about it, of course loud enough for me to hear it, but also adding in that I won't let her keep her door open, so then it becomes my fault. 

The thing is, had she told me it was so cold in her room (the oven was on, and that makes the heater not turn on...it's a bad layout for all the houses in our neighborhood), I would have kept my dog in my room so she could have her door open.  The reason her door has to stay shut is because of my dog.  He will a) go in and eat all the cat food and b) harass the one cat who he hates (for good reason...as the cat used to attack him for no reason--like the cat would stalk him and then jump on him and literally attack him...he no longer does this, nor would he ever do it again, but my dog doesn't know that LOL).  But no, she just sat and suffered and didn't say anything so she could bitch about it later.  She had no idea Christmas was coming over, she wasn't even saving it for her.  I bet that was a nice surprise for her.  A nice outlet to pour all her narcissistic supply into.    

Then she started in on how I was keeping her from going to her regular foot doctor appointments and how bad her foot is.  Saying she has a reoccurring issue and how bad it is and how I kept pushing back her appointments due to the fact we didn't have access to our car and how she went an entire year without seeing him once.  I knew this wasn't true, so I got on MyChart and looked up and saw she saw him three times last year, which is her normal amount of times seeing him, and WTF.  Why is she flat out lying like that?  Yes, we did have to reschedule a few times, that happens.  I have to reschedule next week's appointment, too.  But she still gets in as soon as they allow.  I also checked 2024 and she saw him three times that year, too.  It's insane how much she lies.  I told Christmas a few days before on the phone that my mother's dementia is not at fault for these things.  I told her she will flat out lie for attention or whatever else reason.  Now I have to call Christmas and tell her about this, because we were just discussing how her doctor refused to refill her medication one time and how I had to go down there and force them to refill it and she said "Yeah, your mom blamed you for it.  She said you're the one who messed up her medication and that you knew it was due and just put it off and didn't do what you were supposed to."  I said "How can that even be possible when my mother doesn't have anything to do with her meds at all, other than take them?  Even if that were true, which it's not, how would she know that?  I was trying to get her meds refilled, her doctor refused to refill them, and I had to make them...end of story."  She already all this, but still.  My mother just likes to take the nice things I do for her and throw me under the bus.  

And THIS is why I never tell her anything, not even about her own medical care, until the moment she needs to know.  From now on, if something like this were to happen again or if her new doctor (who is a fucking idiot) does something bad enough to make me have to switch, I won't tell her.  I will just bring her to the new doctor and say "Oh, the last one left.  This is your doctor now."  Or if they mess up her meds, I will say "Oh, the pharmacy was just out of them".  I won't tell her the lengths I go for her.  I won't tell her how hard I work to keep all her appointments going and how hard I juggle the schedules of FIVE people that I am responsible for.  Not only does she not care about all the things I do for her, and everyone else in my house, she will use my vulnerabilities against me.  Apparently, even still today.  

She also babbled about a whole bunch of other stupid things, usually putting me and my care of her, at the forefront.  Like how I tell her she can't go to the store with us because she'll get covid, but we constantly go to the store and bring covid back to her.  I looked at her and said "What are you talking about?  That was back in 2020 during lockdown.  AND the reason why I said you couldn't go to the store was because you're a baby and you don't listen and you constantly touched your face.  You did it on purpose because I told you not to.  You're obstinate."  She smiled and laughed and said "Oh, I know!"  Wtf?  Then I added "Well, we never once brought covid home from the store.  Mr. Brooks got it at work every single time we've had it."  She just wanted to bitch that we still don't take her to the store.  But she can barely walk most of the time, so she never even wants to go to the store.  But that's her schtick.  "They don't let me go anywhere."  You have two knees that don't work and are excruciatingly painful and you can't get replacements, and because of that, you choose not to go anywhere, you crazy old bat!  Ugh!  But of course, it's my fault.  Because that's how it is.  I am her forever scapegoat.  

When I joined the conversation, then I finally got her to stop bringing me up...well...besides one thing.  My stomach hurts just thinking about it.  "I remember when Shay was little, she wasn't quite two, and she once accused me of molesting her.  Do you remember that, Shay?  Do you remember when you did that?"  

Uh...........

..................?

What. 

The.

Actual.

Fuck.

I just left the room.  My stomach dropped to the floor.  This is what happens when your parent has dementia and/or is a narcissist.  They let out things nonchalantly either are not appropriate to talk about with company or just blurt out things that are a big freaking deal, like they aren't one.  But, as it turns out, as usual, my mom was overblowing and exaggerating the situation.  

Apparently I was getting out the tub and she was drying me off and I said "Oh, you touched my private parts".  She said "Sorry."  And that was that.  What the fuck?  Why bring that up?  Yes, we were talking about Ray, but what on earth did that have to do with anything?  And why would you say that I accused you molesting me??????  WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?! 

Here's the thing.  SOMEONE did molest me as a child.  It was either my father.  My grandfather (my mother's father).  Or my uncles (my mother's sister's husband or my mother's brother).  OR it was my mother.  I suspect all of them and I can't tell you which one did it.  BUT I will say, the biggest sign points to my uncle (so cliche, right?).  My mother's sister's husband.  But my dad did things, my grandfather did things, my mother has done things, and my other uncle had done things, all inappropriate with me.  And all have signs and symptoms of being molesters.  Could they all have done something to me?  Yes.  It's very likely.  But there's only one who gave me my signature stomachaches when I can tell a person wants to hurt me.  And that's where they (my stomachaches) began: with my aunt's husband.  I hated that man with a passion and REFUSED to let him anywhere near me.  Now THAT is a real sign someone has hurt you.  Or wanted to hurt you and you picked up on it.  I've gotten that stomachache too many times to count and it's always been right.  And I trust my gut because of this.  

And for her to nonchalantly just say that?  That's so fucked up.  Granted, I don't know how at less than two years old I knew about "private parts", because I assure you, I did not.  I know my mother is full shit and I was probably a lot older when that happened.  If it happened at all.

So, here's my thing.  I think my mother brought it up to hurt me.  Because what a stupid question that would be to ask me (twice) if I remember saying that to her.  Why would I remember that?  First of all, I was so young but secondly, it doesn't even sound like a big deal.  She even told Christmas a long time ago that my cousin told her that I said in one of my blogs (that were anonymous) that my uncle most likely molested me.  And my mother's response was to roll her eyes and say "Oh I know, she said that years ago.  She loves to say things like that."  I have NO recollection of ever telling my mother that.  If I did, I was a child.  And if that's the case, then WHY ON EARTH WAS THAT MAN ALLOWED IN OUR HOUSE EVER AGAIN???  And why didn't my dad kick his ass?  My mother most likely never told him.  She obviously didn't believe me, because she's dumber than sack of doorknobs.  She's incapable of protecting herself, much less a child.  So, of course she didn't do anything about it...if that actually ever happened.  Remember, my mother is a well-known liar.  So I wouldn't put it past her to have made up most of what comes out of her mouth. 

And here is the other thing I've been thinking about...why would she ask me that since the issue was so benign?  Is she just so stupid that she thought that was something to include in the conversation as though it was important?  OR was she testing me?  To see what I remembered about back then?  Did she hurt me?  Did my father hurt me?  And maybe she wanted to know how far back I remember?  If she was a normal person with normal intelligence, I would actually wonder this.  But my mother is a freaking moron.  I am not saying this to be mean, she really is one.  There are kind souls who are dumb.  Those people are so innocent and sweet and you just want to protect them like a child.  But then you have people like my mother, who are dumb and mean.  So, you just have to laugh at them.  They think they're getting away with something, but in reality, everyone in the room is smarter than them, so everyone can see what they're really doing.  So, my guess is that it's the first one.  She wanted to join the conversation and relate something to herself, and saw it as an opportunity to do so, no matter how stupid it was.  

But there's always this nagging feeling: what if she's an evil genius and all this dumb stuff is just game or a ploy to throw off off her evil plans?  

Hahaha!  Just kidding.  She's actually that dumb.  No evil genius can pretend to be dumb for over 40 years without someone noticing something.  

Anyways, yeah.  That was a fun Sunday.  I hope Christmas doesn't come back for a month.  She usually only visits that much, so that's good.  Usually my mother is pretty docile, even when Christmas visits, but this time?  I do not know what got into her.  She worries me.  That she's going to start up her bullshit about me again.  But I'll put a stop to it if it does.  I will be MUCH more direct this time.  I will sit her down WITH Christmas and say "Look, you keep telling your friend terrible things about me, and it needs to stop.  If you want to keep living in this house, young lady, you will abide by my rules."  LOL  Or rather "If you want to say living here and not be put into a home, you'll quit this shit.  I do NOT have to do be doing all that I do for you.  Right now, you have your cats, freedom to do whatever you like in your yard, plant things, sit out and relax, all the books you can read, all the videos games you can play.  If you go to a home, you will no longer get to go outside whenever you like.  You won't have your cats.  You won't have unlimited books.  You won't have the snacks you like.  You won't have video games.  And you can't plant anything.  You'll be stuck doing whatever they have available to you.  Is that what you want?  I know that talking shit about me makes you feel better about yourself.  But if that's what you want to do, you'll have to do it from a nursing home.  Because I will not take care of someone who's so ungrateful that despite all I do for you, you will stab me in the back whenever you get the chance."  

I am sure that would put a stop to it.  I also will probably tell my mother, in front of Christmas, that all the phone calls are recorded (they aren't) so that way she can't blame Christmas for telling me the truth (she always tells me when my mom talks shit).  Christmas always worries about my mom getting angry with her (which is silly, as my mom is a terrible friend to her).  And that will also keep her line, too LOL  

But let's just hope she won't go back down that old route and instead just sticks to the rivers and lakes she's used to.  Which is her and Christmas gossiping about the people from their past. 

Don't go chasing waterfalls, ma, or else its Shady Pines for you.  (Though I probably wouldn't put her in a home right away, it would just an incentive for her to be nice, but I will rejoice the day that happens).  

Welcome to the first post of 2026!  And this year is all about exposing truths.  And our first truth is what "reverse narcissism" really is.  

If you haven't heard of "reverse narcissism", it isn't a clinical term, but it often refers to style of severe covert or "vulnerable narcissism", where individuals appear humble but secretly crave admiration; or inverted narcissism/echoism, where people excessively prioritize others' needs, neglecting their own, sometimes becoming self-sacrificing and enabling mistreatment.  The former is a real form of narcissism, where the latter?  Actually isn't.  Rather, it's just severe codependency/fawning (not that that is an excuse for allowing bad behavior/abuse).

What Reverse Narcissism Actually Is

Let's start with codependence, because that's where RN (reverse narcissism) starts.  Codependence in narcissism is described as "a theory that attempts to explain imbalanced relationships where one person enables another person's self-destructive behavior, such as addiction, poor mental health, immaturity, irresponsibility, toxic behavior, or under-achievement, but also loses themselves in the wants and needs of the narcissist".  

In narcissistic terms, codependents are the narcissist's "flying monkeys" and enablers that allow them to behave badly, which includes abuse.  In family dynamics, this usually is one parent (if both parents don't have NPD), or someone's sibling, or some other family member(s).  

But codependency is not the only aspect to this style of narcissistic behavior, but it is a core one.  Another aspect is the fact that the RN uses the narcissist for their own supply.  They can be just as manipulative, and they can enjoy the same things the narcissist does (manipulation, triangulation, gossip, harm to the target, exploitation, etc.), but usually not for the same reasons.  A narcissist enjoys these things because they have a deep-seated need to control, due to the fact that their operating system runs on dominance.  An RN controls because they have a deep-seated need to control, due to the fact that their operating system runs on connection.  And if that connection has a threat of being severed, their reaction may be the same as a narcissist's, but usually to a lesser degree and usually in a different way.  

Let's take my mother's best friend Christmas, for example.  I've talked about her quite a bit on here (just search her name in the search box), always pendulating between thinking she's an RN and not.  I now realize she is an RN, but not an actual narcissist.  See, Christmas, when my mother broke her connection to her over and over again (discarded her), she didn't act out, she didn't try to put my mother in jail (like the time my mom tried to put their other friend in jail just because the other friend forgot to take her out to dinner), or call and have her debit card turned off (like my mother did with me) or any other batshit crazy reaction.  But didn't go gentle into the night either.  She raged.  She reacted.  And she not only turned against her, but she started her own sort-of smear campaign against her (which my mother fully deserved).  And she chose me to be friend and started hanging out with me.  But the moment my mother wanted her back (meaning she cycled through all the other people), Christmas went running back, pooper-scooper in hand, to shovel all that shit back under the carpet, as though it never happened.  And I was the one who was discarded by both of them.   

See, they act the same, but don't have the same reactions, nor do they have the same motivations.  When my mother feels discarded, she's acting from a wound of abandonment (as all narcissists are), but that abandonment also means a loss of control and dominance.  Whereas when Christmas feels discarded, she's also acting from a wound of abandonment, but since she has actual empathy, she has limits to what she'll do in retaliation.  She's more likely to seek out others who have been hurt by the narcissist who hurt her and commiserate with them, whereas before, she could never see it, not until she was hurt herself.  

The blindness of an RN to a narc's behavior is not due to the same reason an actual narcissist will excuse another narcissist's behavior.  Here's how you can tell the difference between narcissistic RN or a strictly codependent RN: 

• a narcissist RN (a real reverse narcissist) will allow the bigger, badder narcissist to hurt you and not only join in, but they will hurt you on their own by either triangulating you, starting their own lies about you (usually to tell the bigger, badder narcissist), tearing you down, telling on you, or use other forms of abuse; their need to also dominate you can be pretty obvious.  
• a codependent RN (a pseudo-reverse narcissist) will allow the bigger, badder narcissist to hurt you (usually out of fear for their own safety or having their own trauma reactivated), but they have a conscience and empathy, and sometimes will try to defend you; they do not want to hurt you on their own (or at all), though sometimes they will still hurt you behind your back due to the fact they feel the need to be in the narcissist's good graces in order to not activate their abandonment wounds (they are using fawning as a survival strategy).  

Well, it's almost 2026 and I've been slacking about updating.  I've been pretty busy, so I haven't had time to sit down and think about much of anything, much less be be able to type about it.  

This year has been weird.  Mostly because we actually got snow in winter before January.  We haven't had that in a long while.  It just now all melted, luckily for our basements around here, not all at once.  

We all got sick this year with the rhinovirus and it all hit us differently, the way sicknesses always do anymore.  I don't think my mother got it, which is unusual, but a good thing.  

I got a new therapist.  I think I like her...maybe.  She doesn't stop me having verbal diarrhea, which sucks.  So our last session was me babbling off about my mother, when in reality, I was there for help with my son (though my son's been really, really good lately, I hope this lasts), and her yawning.  That was fun.  She's super nice though.  I just hope she actually interjects something now and then, as I am not there to talk to a wall.  My plan is to be quiet and only say the things I need to say and be MUCH less prolific with my words.  But I was SUPER anxious that day, and when I am anxious, I talk too much. 

My mom has been doing little things, like for one, competing with me about how much the cats love me.  Stupid shit like that.  Nothing that's a big deal.  Sure, in the moment it's aggravating.  I say how much much my cat loves me, and she has to make up some lie about how the cat actually wants her more than me.  It's so silly, that she can't even let an animal love me without her having to horn in on it.  She can't let me have anything.  I think narc moms feel inferior to us, so they have to project their superiority so they can battle their feelings of emptiness.  As though me saying the cat loves me (I didn't say that, I inferred it) is me saying they don't love her.  It's fucking stupid.  She has no idea how to share.  I wish a narcissist could tell us how they actually feel, but since they all do nothing but lie, you can't ask them anything about the truth of how they feel (and any person who claims to be a narcissist is lying, because the #1 fact about a narc is that they will never admit to being a narc).  

So, stuff like that.  I took her to get her haircut, and their website said we have to wait 15 minutes to go in, and she opened the door to the car and yelled "I AM GOING IN!".  Next time, I am going to say that they prefer us to wait in the car because they don't have enough room.  She HATED waiting in the car.  Why?  I have no idea, she's an impatient child.  But she was fine waiting inside.  And of course, since I wasn't he one telling them what to do with her hair, she ended up looking batshit insane.  This was so much worse than previous haircuts, I have no idea what this poor young man was doing.  I could have done the same thing with her hair.  I don't cut women's hair, I do men's (and my son's hair I did recently didn't turn out the way he wanted...so I will say I cut men's SHORT hair...with nothing fancy).  My hubby's haircut recently turned out amazing....but what this man did to my mother's hair made me wonder how the hell he got hired at all.  I think I am done taking her to Great Clips....they always make her look nuts!  It's like they hire people who don't have licenses to cut hair.  

But now she can stop complaining about her hair.  But the moment I finish her list of demands, she makes another list.  And then every single time she sees me, she's asking me to do things on her list.  I am her slave.  But I'd rather be her slave than her emotional punching bag.  So that's something.  

Also, my aunt died.  And nobody told us.  There's not even an obituary online, nor did they have a funeral.  I want to go get a death certificate, but I also don't care enough to want to find out what actually happened.  I just know whenever my mother passes away, I will make sure not to tell them, either.  It's honestly none of their business.  I was never planning on it, but now?  I won't feel bad about it one bit.  Because had my mother not been here?  They'd have never told me.  They act as though I don't exist.  Good.  That makes my clean break from them even easier.  

But here is the biggest thing to happen this month (December): I figured some major shit out.  Like, for me, it's something huge.  And I can't wait to use the information to do something with.  I may write a book about it, or just integrate it into my program (which I've been working on for fifteen years), but most likely both.  And I will be writing a blog post about it.  It's a lot.  And my brain is very overwhelmed with all the info, but I am trying my best to break it down into smaller bits so I can work with it.  

Let's just say, I've figured out the code to narcissism.  The why and how.  

And I can't wait to share it with the world.  

Hope your holidays were peaceful and your new year is filled with beauty.  

'Twas the morning of Christmas, and all through our home,

All the cats were stirring, not leaving me alone.

I had just awoken, after a long awful migraine,

Hoping today, nobody would think to act insane.

Both my kids and my hubby, were all still asleep,

The only other person awake was the great Christmas beast.

Although she has seemed to outgrow all that malicious behavior,

Dementia, albeit slow-going, seemed to work in our favor.

Now she's as docile as a small little mouse,

Except asking me for something every time she sees me in the house.

But I will take annoying, over cruel, any single day,

But this still doesn't erase the past any single way.

So while I have to deal with my feelings about her deeds from the days of yore,

I don't have to deal with the day-to-day abuse from her anymore.

If I could, I would, I'd wish upon a star,

I would have been given normal parents I didn't have to love from afar.

I wouldn't have to question what made them so broken,

And I'd never have to guess the lies from all the words that they've spoken.

But most of all, I wouldn't have to clean up the messes they've made,

In both my life, and theirs, in uncountable ways. 

But stars are just lights, balls made of particles and gas,

They can't grant wishes any more than can my ass. 

So this Christmas day, a high of forty degrees,

I will clasp my hands together and get on my knees,

And clean this nasty floor, because it's dirty as fuck,

To all a Merry Christmas, and to everyone with narcissistic parents, good luck...  

©2025 Shay Brooks

I will tell you what I am grateful for: 

When I turned 20, I got pregnant.  My my mother and his father forced us to marry.  "We won't accept this baby unless you're married!" they both said to us.  They said they'd never financially help us out or even accept that the baby is their grandchild.  It was totally and completely fucked.  

But later, after I had gotten married and given birth to my son, my now ex-husband was still doing the things he did before he had had kids.  He always wanted to participate in his fantasy football leagues, go to the strip club with his best friend, spend Father's Day weekend partying with his brother at his college dorm, and participating in his dart league.  I wasn't allowed to do any of those things.  My mom was to be a mom.  When I did do things, my parents were expected to babysit, so that meant I never did things.  My in-laws babysat once on my 21st birthday when my oldest son was three months old (and it was a total clusterfuck and one of my stupidest birthdays ever).  But my ex?  He didn't like babysitting alone.  I think he didn't see himself as a responsible adult and parent, and thought he was still the same exact person as before and still just wanted to continue as though me giving birth never happened.  And it was my job to take care of everything that was different, aka everything to do with being a parent.  

But when my son was around two months old or so, we both got the stomach flu, aka gastroenteritis.  And it wasn't pretty.  He couldn't down any breastmilk and I could barely hold down water.  And when a baby can't hold down breastmilk, that's the only thing they drink or eat, so I just thought he was going to die.  But, of course, per true ding-dong fashion, my ex went to his dart league and left us home alone.  He knew damn well how bad my anxiety was, too, but he literally had no empathy or sympathy for anyone, especially me or his baby, so off he went and left us to deal with our sicknesses alone.  

So, I called my mother.  Because that's what you do when you're twenty years old (or really, any age) when nobody else is there for you, your mother is, right?  At least that's what I assumed should happen.  So I called her and asked her to come over until he got home, because I was terrified my baby was going to die because he couldn't hold down fluids.  I had called his doctor to see what to do, and they informed me to just get some in his mouth every however long and see if he could tolerate small amounts.  If so, that would work.  If not, we'd have to go to the ER so he could get an IV.  So, I called my mother.  And she laughed and said "That's your husband's job."  "Did you not hear me?  I may have to take him to the ER."  "Yes, call your husband and tell him to get his ass home to take care of his wife.  It's not my job anymore."  And she hung up.  She was less than a mile away, by the way.  It would take her less than ten minutes to come over, to her childhood home to come help out.  Also, this was 1998.  No cell phones (well, at least not the little ones that everyone could afford yet).  So getting ahold of my husband at the time wasn't easy.  I had to look up the number for the bar in the phone book and have them go find him to call me back.  And he'd only call me back if he wanted to, so I had no promise he'd ever call.  And of course, when he did call me back, he was angry that I was interrupting his game.  

I get my mother being angry at my husband for abandoning me and my baby while being so sick.   I should have been only taking care of myself in that moment and his father should have been taking care of him.  That's how parents work.  But he was a 23-year-old narcissistic man-child who didn't think of anyone but himself.  So rather than coming over and giving me and my son compassion and to help care for us, she threw me to the wolf I lived with and had to hear him bitching and being mean to us for interrupting his game.  Which we'd have been better off without him coming home.  

My mother doesn't have a nurturing bone in her body.  Did she take care of me while sick?  Sure.  She'd give me a bucket or a paper bag to throw my Kleenex in and would make me soup.  But that's the end of it.  Did she frown and say "I am so sorry you're so sick", the way I do with my own children?  Did she run to the store for me when I needed something?  Well, she'd pick up something for me, like nasty-ass Halls cough drops that turned my stomach, while she was already out. But special trips?  Never.  Last night my husband ran out and got our son (the same baby in this post) a Covid test because he's so sick.  And all day we stopped at stores to get him Gatorade and Kleenex and whatever else to help him feel better.  I even made him blended carrot and sweet potato soup (though he didn't eat it, because he was full from the rest of his dinner).  My mom only ever opened a can of condensed chicken noodle soup watered down with tap water.  Oh, and Saltines.  She'd give me Saltines.  But never did she go out of her way or do anything special for me.  I wasn't important enough for her. 

And just like that day when I called her, me being sick always made her angry.  I am not sure why.  She was always severely annoyed with me, having to pick me up from school with a fever or if I woke up sick.  She didn't work, so what on earth was so important that taking care of me, which was her fucking entire job in life at that time, was such a nuisance to her?  Just me existing outside the norm, I guess.  When she adopted me, she had no idea what being a mother entailed.  And when she found out?  She was probably like "Aw hell no!  I ain't doing that shit!"  "But ma'am, that's the minimum you can do for this job."  "Oh yeah?  Watch me.  I bet I can do the least amount as possible!"  "Ma'am, but that's utterly unfathomable to do as a parent!"  Yet, nevertheless, she persisted, and proved them all wrong.  

As I sat there, watching my son suffer yesterday with him feeling so bad, I was reminded of my mother's inability to feel anything for me.  I love my son.  I feel bad when he feels bad.  I listened to his constant coughing and stuffed up nose, and looked at his splotchy red face, and I saw that little baby who I once held in my arms and I worried he would die if I couldn't do my job as a mother to help him keep some kind of liquid in him.  That was the first time he was sick.  And now he's twenty-seven, seven years older than I was when I had him, the same age I was when I met his now father.  And here I am, still worrying about my little boy, tending to him while he's sick.  Even if he didn't live in my home, I'd stay at his house if he asked me to do take care of him.  Because I am capable of love and empathy. And my mother just isn't.  

I never asked her for much.  She will say I was a vortex of need as a kid or some other bullshit to paint her in a good light and me in a bad one (or rather, to make her seem like she was just worked endlessly for me, the child who supposedly "sucked up all of her time").  But I just didn't.  I knew better.  I knew it would make her angry.  And I knew most of the time, she'd just say no.  She lived for and loved to make people feel guilty for asking for their needs to be met with her.  Even just basic ones.  Then if you asked her for something bigger?  Well then, that was the time she got to show just how much you mean to her.  So, if you were someone she hardly knew, she'd slap a smile on her face and do it willingly!  This meant she could look good to you, and she loved to show off.  But if she knew you well?  She will smile to your face, but bitch about it behind your back.  If you were close to her?  She'd show her annoyance, and do it, but make you feel guilty for having to do it.  And if you were her child, she'd flat out laugh at you and say no.  I teetered between the last two for most of my life with her.  She'd do the thing for me, but use it against me later as ammunition.  

She no longer tries to guilt me for not doing things for her on her time table.  She used to say "I see how I rate!"  I can't remember the last time she's said that to me.  She no longer does much of anything at all (other than steal things from the bathroom, which she's still doing).  I am the one doing all the things for her now.  And she just exists.  She doesn't ask me how I am or what I am up to.  She just asks me for the things she needs and unlike her, I get them for her.  I even make special trips to get her the things that she needs, because unlike her, I am not a monster.  

She's no longer a monster either.  She's just an old woman who needs a caretaker.  And I fulfill that duty for her.  She's not my mother, she's my client, and I treat her with the same respect I'd treat anyone who needs help.  She loved to claim she was a caretaker her entire life, but she just wasn't.  She'd go through the motions and do things that needed doing (though not always all of them), but she hated it and resented the person for needing help.  But that's what not having empathy or sympathy does to a person.  I, luckily, have both.  And I know how lucky I am to have those abilities.  I easily could have been born a monster, like her, like my grandmother (my birth-grandmother), and aunt.  But I wasn't.  I was born smart, and kind.  Two things both my adoptive family and birth family are not.  Why did I luck out?  How did I luck out?  I have no idea.  But I did.  And I was born with these blessings and so I use them both quite regularly.  With my family.  With animals.  With strangers.  Everyone.  Even with people who used to be monsters.  

I wasn't born like my mother.  And this Thanksgiving season, that's what I am grateful for.  I looked at my son yesterday, laying in bed so sick, and I knew I was lucky to be able to take care of him.  I am lucky I get to feel compassion and warmth and love for my kids.  I get to enjoy what being a human actually means.  My mother didn't get that.  She's empty inside.  And I feel bad for her.  It's not her fault she was born this way.  And so I feel compassion for her, too.  (though I am going to go allow her to do bad things to me and my family again).  I am grateful for this ability and the ability to be smart enough to distance myself from those that hurt me and my family.  I may have been born into psychotic chaos.  But I am actually the lucky one here.  Yes, they all abused me and I was their victim at one time, but I didn't stay that way.  I get to move beyond it all and feel what it truly feels like to be human.  I get to be happy.  I get to love.  I get to feel compassion.  They didn't get that.  Not for a single day of their lives.

And so, I win.  No matter what they did to me, I win.  And that's all that matters.  

I can't eat where I want to in my home.  I am not allowed to eat at my own table, even if I wanted to (though I don't, not here).  When we first moved in with her in 2020, she tried to recreate my home life by having everyone sit at the table every single night, and she'd have both her and I alternate making dinner.  Back then, she could still drive and would go grocery shopping, even though I had just bought groceries.  The funny part was that she'd go out and buy the same exact groceries I just bought.  She'd waste so much money that way.  Anyways, dinner had to be done by 6pm sharp every single night, and we'd all cram in together at the table, and the four of us (my kids, hubby, and I) would be having fun, talking and doing whatever.  My mother, on the other hand, was just observing.  If she saw your elbows on the table, she'd literally smack them off.  If she saw you weren't eating a certain food, she'd ask why.  If she saw you were eating quickly, she'd comment on fast you'd be eating.  If she saw you were eating slow, she'd ask why.  Every little thing you'd do or not do, she'd comment on it.  And it was getting out of control.

My entire life with her was like this.  She wonders why now, at 48, I have eating issues.  Just kidding, she doesn't wonder.  Not at all.  That would mean she actually cared LOL  And we all know that narcissist don't care about anything.  But if she did, I would tell her it's all her fault.  Growing up, I dealt with this nightly.  The 6pm mandatory dinner time.  If you're late, you're disrespectful and didn't get to eat anything at all if you didn't show up.  No saving food for later (though, when I think about it, I could have easily warmed up leftovers, as there were always leftovers).  No different meal made for you if you didn't like what was made.  And she always made food I didn't like.  Always.  As a teen with a job and a license, I learned to live on fast food, because I could never eat at home.  I didn't learn how to cook until I got married, so I couldn't go buy groceries to make my own dinners.  Granted, when I did do that as an adult, my mother would stand behind me and comment on how I made my food and berate me the entire time.  When we moved in here, she'd do the same to my son.  She tried it with me, but I kicked her ass out of the kitchen.  The constant "Why aren't you eating your potatoes?"  "Why are you blah blah blah?"  "Why are you mixing your food together?"  etc. etc.  She was relentless.  Every.  Single.  Night.  

As time went on in our current house, I eventually called her out on for smacking people's arms when they put their elbows on the table.  For one meal, we ALL put our elbows on the table and laughed the entire time.  My mother was not happy.  I looked right at her and said "You will never hit anyone's arms again.  Keep your hands to yourself."  And she listened.  Since moving in here, I feel like I am reparenting my mother, because nobody ever taught her how to act properly.  (I even said that to her once "Nobody raised you right, but that's okay, I am here, that's my job now".)  

But the nitpicking while we were eating with her, it got so bad that it unleashed an anxiety in me so that I couldn't eat at all anymore.  So, I eventually decided to eat in my room.  Which upset my kids, because they had to listen to my mother bitch about it.  So, one day, I got the balls to just say "Since you need to eat so early, I am going to feed you at 6 and we'll eat later."  And the rest was history.  At first, she was pissed.  And for a long time, almost a year, she complained about every meal I cooked for her (and I cooked her real meals).  She couldn't nitpick us, so instead, she nitpicked the food.  "You know what would be better?  If you added this or made it like that...."  Every single night.  So, I started saying "You're welcome" and marching out of the room.  So, eventually, I resorted to making her "quick meals".  I wasn't going to slave over a hot stove twice a night.  Not for an ungrateful child like her, but also it was just too much for me to handle.  And much of what I make my family, she can't eat as she has no teeth.  

So, I remembered something: growing up, my mother made us "quick meals".  Every single night.  She couldn't be bothered to actually cook for us (including herself), so she made fast and easy meals.  She didn't have a job for almost my entire childhood and she didn't actually do anything all day, other than gossip with neighbors or her mother.  But she still couldn't be bothered to cook us real meals (even though I requested them regularly).  So, I turned to those "quick meals" as a format to feed her.  And it's been working ever since.   Now, making dinner for her is very easy and non-stressful and she's learned to never complain.  I no longer feed her things she can complain about.  She can't insult my cooking if I didn't cook it, right?  And now, she will exaggerate how great my food is...deep down, I know it's meant as an insult, since when I do actually give her something I cooked, she doesn't compliment me.  But I don't care.  Though I put a stop to that too, I told her once "You don't have to thank me every single night, it's tiresome."  And so she stopped.  

Food was something my mother has always ruined, whether by cooking it, eating it, or making it, whether by her or someone else.  She is, and always was, a master of that.  But I finally put a stop to most of her complaints and nitpicking.  Thank freaking goodness.

But the damage has been done.  All those years of putting up with her, she has ruined mealtimes for me.  Most likely, for life.  Maybe one day, when I get some distance away from her, I can learn to enjoy mealtimes again.  But food itself has always been a very complicated thing for me due to her.  And I can't sit at a table without feeling sick.  Thanksgiving is coming up, and I am not looking forward to sitting at a table with her.  I think I may try something else.  I am not sure.  I just may take my food and eat it in my room.  I don't know what I'll do.  But it's only twice a year we eat with her now.  Thanksgiving and Christmas.  That's it.  Holidays were always horrible for me as a kid.  Again, due to my parents and being forced to sit at a table with tons of people.  But now it's just us.  Though my mother is enough all on her own to ruin things LOL  But hopefully it will just be chill and we can all just eat some delicious food.  *sigh*  

I can't wait to find more people to celebrate holidays with.  I am working on it.  Along with 100 other things, because my ADHD brain is always busy working on something.  But I know this is important to my family's evolution so I will be sure to make this a priority in the new year.  Building community was always my thing when I was younger, and I want it to be my thing again now in middle age.  It's time.  

I hope your Thanksgiving (or whatever holidays are coming up for you) are going to go well.  If not, don't stress yourself out.  Just do what you can and keep your sanity safe.  Until next time, my friend.  Good luck.