If you've been reading since the beginning, then you'd know that back in June of 2013, my mother lost her fucking mind and verbally attacked me over a blog I had written years prior.  Apparently my cousin thought she was top shit and tried to hurt me by showing it to her, but, which is so amazingly awesome, it backfired on her, and instead was THE best thing that has ever happened to me.  Thank you, idiot cousin, for being a narcissist yourself, and trying to ruin my life ❤❣❤  It was the best gift anyone has ever given me. 

It literally saved my damn life.  

So, mother and I had it out that day, over the phone and she went to our family reunion the next day and told everyone I was a failure at life and "Why didn't she make anything out of herself?" blah blah blah.  Cute, right?

So, the other day my hubby and I were cleaning out my art studio to turn it into an office for our freelance business and store, and I found the Xeroxed copy of the article some idiot sent me talking about a woman who was in her 30's and was a failure at life.  I am sure my idiot cousin or her idiot sister had something to do with it (as it was from a yoga magazine and the ONLY person I know who reads that is my idiot cousin's sister--also an idiot cousin).  So anyways, this has spurred me to realize just how angry I still am about it all and I haven't been able to get it out of my mind (which says that somewhere, deep inside, I need to work this out).

My cousin, we'll call her Fuckface, is a teacher for disabled kids.  I don't know why anyone would let that idiot teach their children, but hey, our school system really sucks.  Her sister is a.....honestly, I have no freaking clue.  She went to college and doesn't use her degree, so she could be a hooker for all I  know (just kidding, she works for some tech company as tech writer).  Her husband was a security officer but now does something else at Comcast.  Fuckface's hubby works for the nuclear power plant.  Both act like they are so much better than everyone and are so well off.  My dude cousins are a cop and mechanic (the cop is a narc, the mechanic is a codependent--though could be a scapegoat, I don't know him that well).

So yeah.  I don't have a fucking career.  Never have.  I became a mother at age 20.  My idiot cousin became a mother at age 19 and put herself through college so she could work.  I got married and became a stay-at-home mother, and eventually, a homeschooling mother.  Apparently being a parent isn't a real job and it makes me a failure.  Although I am also an author (but according to my mother, not a real one because I am not traditionally published).  I am also an artist.  And a photographer.  And a blogger.  None of which makes me good money (or really, any money).  So I am a failure because I don't make my own money??

Funny.  Because neither does my mother.  Nor has she had a job in around forty years.  She's living off her dead husband's social security and before that, lived off of my father's massive life insurance policies (that I didn't see a penny of).  She lived off her men both dead and alive.  And she treated them both like shit.  She was a stay at home mother.  A shitty abusive one, but still, that's what she was.

So, if I am a failure at life because of my lack of self-made money, what is she?

Let's compare what I do have and am, to what my mother doesn't and isn't:

• I have two kids I actually birthed.  Not saying one damn thing against adoptive parents or step parents...BUT, if we want to compare how much work I put into my life compared to her?  I have her beat on this one.  She paid like $30,000 for a 1 1/2 year old toddler (she never knew me as a baby) to torture.  I paid (happily!) with 1 1/2 years of being pregnant, sick as FUCK for both pregnancies (which she picked on me for), had to have a D&C a week after my second child so I didn't die, had placenta previa with my second child and thought I was going to lose him at 4 months pregnant, and went into premature labor with him and be on meds to keep his little rascally ass inside of me.  I went through HELL, but it was so very much worth it.  My mother got one call: "You want a toddler? Yes? Okay, we'll bring it over."  That's it. (okay, it was more than that, but not by much)
  
  Sidenote: my mother went through losing a child.  A little boy.  She was four months pregnant and from what my doctor told me, she would have had to birth that baby (though I am not 100% on this).  I can't even imagine for a moment what that was like for her.  She was 20 years old, pregnant, starting a new life with a husband she loved, and then they lost their child.  I will never pretend that me having children makes me better than her, because while I've had a miscarriage when I was young, I wasn't aware I was pregnant.  At four months pregnant I thought I was losing my 2nd child, so I do know what kind of horrible that feels like.  BUT, I didn't lose him.  It's not the same.  I might not like my mother, but I cannot pretend this didn't have an impact on her life.  And I know it still hurts her to this day, because she can't talk about it.  That kind of pain doesn't have an expiration date.  
• I put my two children first when I ended up marrying an abusive narcissist.  I protected them against any type of abuse from him and after 6 years of marriage, I left him.  My mother stayed with my abusive father until he died. And she not only let him abuse me, but she at times forced him to, in order to get him off her back.  She even admitted to me a few years ago that she put my father first and protected HIM over me, because that's what you're supposed to do.  I am still scratching my head at that one.
• I refused to allow my oldest son to be bullied at school and did something about it.  She allowed me not only to be severely bullied, but when I started showing signs of psychological trauma due to the bullying, she ignored it.  I went to the principal and the teacher, nobody would do anything to help my son, so I pulled them out to homeschool them (my youngest had a horrible time at school, but not due to bullying).  My oldest went back to school for one year in fifth grade, but that was it.  Now my kids are fucking resilient as hell and have been able to learn about so much more than they would have in school.  My mother never did anything to help me, not once.  Not even when I dated a boy for 2 years who physically abused me.
• I had my own successful business called B&B's Handcrafted Gifts for many years in my 20's, where I made and sold handcrafted soaps (real soap, not the glycerin kind at the craft store), and painted gourds.  I am a pretty talented painter (something my mother has never once given me credit for) and I used to sell a lot of my stuff.  Which really is making my own money, but since it was seen as a "hobby", it never counted (in my ex-husband's eyes or my mother's).  The only time my mother made her own money was having garage sales.  She would have no idea how to start her own business.
• I am extremely creative and always have been.  My only goal in life was to be an artist, and somehow people (like my mother, but others, too) are confused as to why I can't hold down a full 9-5 job or why my life is full of creativity.  My mother's only creative bones are those in her ass that uses to fart really loudly with.  I am not joking here.  Really fun in public to be around her.
• I remarried an amazing guy who loves my kids as much as he loves me.  He adopted the kids right before we found out she was a narcissist.  If my mother had lost my dad or left him, her only type to remarry would be a fucking abusive asshole (per the one she did remarry--THOUGH, I will say, he wasn't that way until she started showing her true colors to him and he felt depressed again and took it out on me).  She would have let whoever it was abuse me and she probably would have found it fun (as she did with her last husband).
• I've fought my mental illness all of my life.  Whereas she has denied she's mentally ill her entire life.  I am very familiar with who I am and what my limitations are.  I accept these things about myself and do everything I can to control it.  My mother has the same mental illness as me (and more!) and then picks on me for having it.  It's ridiculous.
• I've fought hard to overcome my programming.  I grew up with a narc mother who taught me to be vindictive, gossipy, mean, and selfish.  I've had to take each thing she's programmed into me and slowly reprogram myself to be better.  My mother was raised by a narc mother and is content with being a fucking asshole.  I've had to teach myself how to be kind, understanding and non-judgmental.  It's not been easy, either.  But I put in the work because it's worth it to be a good person.  She doesn't give two shits about that.
• I have a great relationship with my children that is based on love & understanding and not fear or control.  My mother wouldn't have a clue how to have a relationship like that with ANYONE.  My children have helped me to grow and change for the better.  Both my kids are so different from me, yet so much the same.  We challenge each other and support one another.  And most of all, we love one another.  Our love makes us want to change for the better for one another.  We have all overcome so much, together.  Alongside my wonderful husband, whom the kids love so very, very much.  Together, as a family, we fight our battles, and win.  We hold each other up, and catch each other when we fall.  I never had that as a kid.  It was always mom and dad for themselves, and then I was left to fight my own battles, always alone.
• I've written several books (that people actually buy).  The only thing she writes are nasty emails and checks.
• I have a great relationship with my husband (whom my goal is make him know how much I love & respect him and what a wonderful person he is).  My father was emasculated by my mother and when he died, his last thoughts were probably something like "I don't want to die, but if I have to, at least I won't ever, ever, ever have to hear your voice again, you horrible woman!"  I know if I were him, those would be my last thoughts.  Hell, they'd be my last words.  When my hubby or I pass on to the next ethereal realm, our last thoughts will be how much we love each other and the kids, and how much we tried to have a good life and be good people.  My mother's last thoughts will probably be "Damn.  I could have hurt so many more people, but I just wasn't on my A-game these past few years."  

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..and I realize I haven't posted since November!

Sorry about that, but I find it hard to talk about things when they aren't on my mind.  This month marks nine months of no contact.  It feels like forever ago, like another life.  I can't imagine having her in my life at all.  In some ways, I feel so different.  In others, I don't feel different enough.

IT'S BEEN NINE MONTHS, BABY!

I enjoy not having her around.  But I don't feel like I am fully living up to the potential in my life by her not being here to ruin things.  I think in some ways, I've become a little paralyzed.  Fear has always ruled my life, but lately, I've been breaking out my shell (the one my mother built around me) and finding ways to be who I was supposed to be without her influence in my life.

And it's been hard.  But lately, I've actually been finishing things I've started.  I've been proving that I am not that person who she made me out to be (to myself and to others).  I've been capable this entire time, but having her around to down me and tell me the opposite was what was causing me to be the person she hated me for.

Let me find other words for what I mean: she created the person I was in order to make fun of me and to get her narcissistic supply.  But I am not that person.  Or rather, I am learning how to not to be that person anymore.

I am learning to respect my own time and my own abilities.  I still have a fear of failure, but I've been moving forward steadily, little by little.  So if I have a setback, it's no big deal compared to before when I'd push myself like mad, fail, and then give up.  Rinse, lather, repeat.

I've been replaying this thing she said about me when I first found out she was a narcissist back in 2013.  She told my family "I don't know why she is such a failure in life.  She could have done something with her life, but chose not to."  She was talking about me (obviously).  This is because my hubby and I recently cleaned out my art studio/office for our home business and found the letter that was sent to me right after that family reunion where she said it.  It was addressed to my initials only with my address and contained a Xeroxed copy of a magazine's advice column that read "Dear Whatever, I am in my 30's and I am failure at life."  It had to be one of my cousins, but it could had been anyone.

I am not a failure.  But I think I'll make that my next blog post.  And wrap this one up.  I am so tired, as I've been working my ass off all afternoon getting stuff done for my store and I could just fall asleep.

Yes, 9 months, ladies and gents <3  Nine freaking whole months.  I love it!!