So, I was cleaning out my garage this week and found this sign I made last year.  Instead of putting it on the wall in my kitchen, where it was supposed to go, it's been in my garage.  Why?  Because when I made it, my mother immediately saw it, completely took over, and decided exactly where I was going to put it in our kitchen.  It hasn't been that long since she's acted that way, but I honestly forgot she used to do this to me every single day.  Whenever I'd buy or make something, she'd take it over and make all the decisions for it.  The same can be said for everything I owned, too.  She was contantly moving everything I owned around, as though where I put it wasn't good enough, or didn't matter in the least.  It was though I didn't even exist and if she was included in knowing about whatever it was, she'd immediately take over and I'd be left wondering what the hell just happened.  

I made this sign by measuring the wood and then printing out the words to size.  Then I used a craft knife to cut out each letter and glued it onto the sign.  It was tedious work, but I think in the end it was worth it.  I really love how it turned out and was so proud when I was done.  And just as soon as I brought it into the kitchen, my mother grabbed it and started making plans for it.  I was floored.  I didn't even get the chance to show everyone yet.  So, I grabbed it back from her and shoved it in the garage and it's been there ever since.  Because that's when I do when she tries to take over my life or what I'm doing or something that is supposedly mine.  I just hide it or stop working on it or put it away until she forgets about it (which includes myself...which is why I hide from her most of the time LOL).   Which means I usually forget about it, too.  Which sucks.  Especially when I work hard on something, or I am excited about buying something.  I would just get so tired of her taking ownership over anything and everything that was supposed to be mine.  Which also means I don't wear new clothes that often, either, or else she will take over and keep commenting on it until I never wear it again (and the comments aren't bad, it's just that she's noticing me constantly, which I do not want).  

But she doesn't seem to do that anymore.  She does sometimes.  Today she saw my containers for my gardening and asked me what they were for.  I said "my vegetables".  She said "You know what they looked like they would be good for?  Potatoes!"  Yup.  Still doing it.  I said "I already planted potatoes in my dog food bags.  Like I did last year."  She looked confused.  But last year I saved my dog food bags and planted potatoes in them when they were empty and it worked out quite well.  She didn't remember that.  Which is fine, but there she goes, telling me what to do with my stuff again.  Though this was more benign, but still indicative of how she used to act.  "You know where you should put this?"  "You know what this would be good for?"  "You know what I'd do with this?"  "Ooh, I can use this, can I have it?"  "What are you going to do with these items?  Because I would like to use them!"  Last summer I bought a Radio Flyer metal wagon for my garden and she squealed when she saw it and said "Oh, I want this!!  Can I have it?"  So in the garage it's been ever since (I am actually going to sell it now).  Other items for my garden she's stolen from me and just took them without asking and now they are hers.  She does this all the time.  I'd get it if she didn't have a way to buy her own stuff.  But she's always done this to me, even when she had her own money and still drove herself places.  Even when I didn't even live with her.  It's been for my whole life.  But after we moved in here?  It go so very much worse.  I wasn't allowed a single thing of my own.  Not one.  

But now it's not like that anymore.  At least not like it was.  But I still don't and won't share anything with her.  Because if given the chance, she will go right back to who she used to be in a split second.  Because that's the nature of narcissists.  There is no real change with them.  

So sometime this week, I'm going to hang my sign up in the kitchen.  Maybe.  We'll see if I have the time or remember to do it.  But just looking at that makes me feel sad.  That my happy day where I made something I really loved was ruined by my mother taking it for herself and trying to pretend like it was hers to do what she likes with.  I wish I could have said to her "Well, this is mine so I will choose where to put it, not you."  But then I would have had everyone thinking I was rude.  Oh well.  Like I said, she's slowed down doing these things.  

Or has she?  Maybe I've just stopped making things or buying things and having them where she can see them?  Because she did try to tell me what to do with my veggie bins yesterday.  And I am not prepared to just act normal about everything again, because I do not trust her to revert back to her old self.  Although, I do have the skills to stick for myself now. 

Ugh.  Though I do have the bravery to look at her if she flat out does it again to say "Why do you do this?  Why do you look at something I have and always want to take command of it?  It's not yours, you need to let other people do what they like with the stuff they have."  I am surprised for my birthday she didn't tell me what to do with my stuff.  So maybe she has gotten better.  But only because I trained her to.  

Well, off to go do yardwork.  Yuck.  

UPDATE: haha I was wrong, I made this in 2020!!!  It's been in my garage for TWO YEARS!  Not one.  Geez.  

I recently learned about this, having never have heard of this in my entire life before.  But it shed so much light on people's behavior that it has literally changed my life.  Here is the video: 

Anyways, so yesterday, Mr. Brooks and I were in the garage cleaning it out and my next door neighbor came up and asked us to watch her dog again.  Now, we let him out a lot whenever they are not home, and he's old and blind and boring and easy to take outside.  He's a good little boy and I do not mind doing this for them, as I love dogs.  But this time, she really crossed the line.  

She asked us to do the same thing, but for two whole fucking weeks.  

Are you kidding me right now?  Who even does that?  I am not her family.   I am not even her friend.  I am her next door neighbor who barely speaks to her unless it's just say a nice "Hi there!  Isn't the weather great today?" sort of thing.  But she's always asking me to do stuff for her.  

Scratch that, she also gives us free food from the neighbor down the street that works for the local food pantry supply and when he gets an overage of food, he gives it out to neighbors.  And she always gives me (and other neighbors) her overages.  So, it's not like she's traveling for this food, she just has too much and hands it out to all sorts of people around here.  Though I wonder...does she hand pick who she gives it to in order to call in favors later?  

See, I am responsible, which is why she always calls on me.  I always go and take care of her dog when I am supposed to.  Even with a pounding migraine, I will get my ass up and do it, because I am not going to make a dog suffer just because I feel like balls.  And this is what she sees in me.  I am a reliable, and overly nice person who lives very close to her who she can trust with her dog.  And she's one of those finicky people who think taking care of her pet is a very complicated thing, as though they are precious cargo who can't tolerate change or whatever.  She reminds me of my mother-in-law with their fucking cat.  "Oh, don't give her French fries!!!  She will die!"  In my defense, I didn't give the cat French fries, she stole them from me.  And yes, she did die, but not until many years later.  But I am sure that's why they don't like me...thinking I murdered their cat with delicious cheese fries (in fact, she stole them from my container and then raced up the Christmas tree and knocked it over with fries hanging out of her mouth--it was quite amazing to see, as she was elderly at the time).  But these people like this, are so fucking particular about their pets, as though they need to be treated with special gloves and special treats and special foods, even though they aren't sick.  It's fucking retarded.  I have four dogs and they are fine eating whatever and whenever I feed them (which I grew up in a home where there was just dog food out all the time, and so I do the same thing, and none of my dogs are obese--okay one is, but not from overeating).  Now, I am not saying everyone should be a dog or cat owner like I am, it's just that that whole being "particular" business feels like the whole "golden child" bullshit narcissists dole out to the humans around them.  And most of the time with these pets?  It is.  It's exactly that.  "Treat my pet in a particular way or he will die!!"  

So, now I have to find a way to tell her no while being direct and nice.  Because the old me, before knowing about ask culture vs. guess culture would have made an excuse and been angry at her for making me lie to her.  Stupid, right?  But that's guess culture!  We are the type who believe that outright asking for something out of bounds is just plain rude.  So we don't do it.  Guess how many times I've asked a neighbor for a favor or to borrow something?  ZERO.  And now guess how much my neighbors have always asked of me, no matter where we've lived?  TOO MUCH.  And I usually say yes, which is dumb, but that's also guess culture.  We either say yes or we lie to get out of it.  But ask culture (though I am wondering if this means "aka narcissists" because I have never had a non-narcissistic neighbor ask a favor of me) thinks "What's the hurt in asking?"  Even though it's completely out of bounds to do so.  Like, asking me to take care of YOUR freaking dog in YOUR freaking home, for TWO FREAKING WEEKS.  It's not like I don't already have four dogs, 500 cats, and humans to take care of, but let's add your little senile old dog to the mix, too!  Now, I would not mind if he were staying at my house.  But leaving your dog home alone all night for two weeks is a total dick move.  Doesn't she have family to help her out??  

Well, no matter what it is, I am going to find a way to say no.  Another reason is that she wants me and the dickheaded girl next door on my other side to "coordinate" together on this.  I don't like her.  She's rude as fuck.  She has pretty pronounced aspergers and the reason why this other neighbor said her and I need to coordinate is that the other girl, oh, how did she put it? Oh yeah "Isn't all there in the head".  Wow.  I corrected her and said "Well, she has autism."  And she just shrugged, as though she could not give less of a fuck.  Dick.  I have autism, too, as do my kids and hubby, so fuck right off neighbor.  But people are so stupid and have no idea how to think outside of themselves and their own experiences.  Then again, I can be like that, too.  I think we all can.  But that doesn't mean it's any less stupid.  But it also doesn't mean that my neighbor with autism isn't a dick.  She's a total dick.  And I refuse to let her have my telephone number or to try to "coordinate" shit with her.  I don't like her.  And we're not friends.  She's judgmental, rude, and annoying.  And I know she will just take over the entire thing anyways, even though she can't take care her own damn dogs (her dogs are cute though, so know that I do not hold her behavior against them).  

Anyways, here is what I came up with to tell her when or if she brings it up again: 

• Hey, listen, I don't think she's responsible enough next door to be taking care of your dog that long and I am just way too busy, so I think you'd be better off finding a family member to take him for the entire time.  Someone you know and trust.  And he'd be happier having someone with him at night, rather than being home alone all night long.  I see how worried he gets when you two are gone for several hours.  I think it's just a better option all the way around to find someone he can actually stay with.  

UPDATE: I'm going to lie to her.  Ugh.  I can't find the words to stand up for myself and just say no.  So I'm going to tell them I'm working at home as a customer service rep and I don't have time to watch her dog.  Like, ever again.  She asks me way too frequently to watch him when she's gone and I am sick and tired of being the person everyone thinks will just do shit for them.  Do you know how many times I've asked my neighbors for a favor?  ZERO.  Not once.  Not even to borrow something.  And I would NEVER EVER trust any of them to come into my house when I'm not home and watch my pets.  Unless we were friends.  But I've never made friends with my neighbors (though once we really did try) because they all suck.  No thanks.  I think that asking your neighbor WHO IS NOT YOUR FRIEND to always watch your dog is just assholey.  Never again.  I'm tired of being taken advantage of. 

It's funny, you think you know something is going on, but you think "nah", because it just wouldn't be right and maybe you're just overreacting?  But as it turns out, I was right all along.  I found out that if I go shopping and then come home and leave a bag in the living room overnight, my mother goes through it.  Why do I leave bags in the living room?  Because I have ADHD, and sometimes I just don't remember it's there.  But also, sometimes I do it on purpose because I'm going to put it away later or because there is nowhere to put it just yet.  But as it turns out, she goes through all my bags when she knows I am sleeping.  Why?  I have no idea.  I don't know what she's looking for.  And a lot of the time, I have mail in there I don't want her to see.  

So, back in the day, when I first made the "no mail" rule, which means my mother is not allowed to get the mail for any reason whatsoever (because she has dementia and will try to buy or send for anything in an ad that comes in the mail...namely credit card applications), or is she allowed to go to the mailbox, period (because she's a fall risk, and our driveway is long and she will never take a cane or a walker with her when she gets it), I would walk to the recycling bin and toss the mail right in there.  Now, I knew she could still get at it, because she could just reach in and take it. But I wasn't going to pitch it in the garbage because that's wasteful.  And she could still get at it in there, too.  So I took to ripping it up into little pieces before tossing it into recycling.  But then I got a burn barrel.  So now I burn all paper and some cardboard.  I have a bag in our kitchen for burnables and a basket in my room for the same.  The one in my room is for stuff my mom doesn't need to get it, namely, the mail.  

But when it's full, I sometimes leave it in my bags in the living room so I can just take it out to turn the next day.  Turns out...my mother is getting into my bags and stealing mail, as well as my magazines and other things she finds.  I was wondering how she was getting a hold of this stuff.  Because a couple days ago she said "Oh, the cat was getting into your bag on the chair, so I went through it and found that you had bacon in there."  Now, I never leave cold things or food like that in my bags, but that day my son and I had went to the grocery store and when we came home, I just space on it.  So I went to find the bacon and it wasn't there.  I said "Where is it?"  She said "In the fridge".  So I threw it away and went up to her and said "Please do not go through my bags for any reason whatsoever."  She got all offended and said "The bacon is why the cat was getting into your bag".  I said "No it wasn't, she cannot smell it through the plastic.  She just loves to get into bags.  But please, never do that again.  Just leave my bags alone" (I use reusale bags, and my youngest cat loves to snoop in them looking for toys).  She got all huffy and put on her offended voice and said "All right!" all snotty and haughty.  

I am finally finding my voice.  I can say exactly what I want from her without hinting around or beating around the bush.  I don't need to allude to what I want from her anymore, for fear of me being rude or whatever else has been my issue for over 40 years (it's all been about punishment, I feared her punishing me and my kids, because she always did in some really cruel way).  Geez, do you know how much grief I could have saved myself if I would have just been 100% honest with her all the time??  If I could only go back in time to those moments when I needed to be upfront with her.  But I am now, so that's all that matters.  She gets offended but doesn't stay angry, because it doesn't suit her anymore to be.  She has zero hold over our lives anymore, and I hold all the cards in hers.  So being angry with me does nothing for her (although I do not punish her for being angry, I just either ignore her or try to talk to her about it--which never works LOL).  But see, her anger was a game.  A way to get narcissistic supply from me.  A way to make me feel small and would force me to suck up to her.  But I don't do that anymore.  I don't care if she's mad.  And because of that, she gets zero supply from me, so she has no reason to be angry at all. 

Every single thing with a narcissist is a ploy or a game or a way to get narcissistic supply.  If they do nice things, it feeds their ego and makes them look good and if they do bad things, it makes you angry and it gives them supply.  Every single choice they make they make out of "what will I get from this?"  If it's nothing, they just don't do anything at all. 

But at the same time, when I am straightforward with her, I have to repeat myself several times, or else she will act like I never said whatever it was and will keep doing it.  Our conversations usually go like this:

Me: Don't do this (insert whatever it is here) or remember to this.

Her: Insert excuse or blame on someone else here.

Me: Yes, but don't do this or remember to do this.

Her: More excuses.

Me: No reason for excuses, just try to remember this or please never do this again.  (and I walk away)

Back in the day, it used to go like this.

Me: (beats around bush)

Her: Excuses or tries to change the subject.

Me: (beats around bush some more)

Her: More excuses or blame on me.

Me: (getting angrier)  Yes, but I don't like this so please don't do this.

Her: More blame. 

Me: (getting super angry) I asked you not to do this.  So please do not do this anymore.  

Her: Changes subject.  

I like my direct way so much better.  So, I'm going to leave a bag in the living room with some fake stuff in it and a big note that says "STAY THE FUCK OUT OF MY BAGS YA OLD HAG 😀" and see what she says about it LMAO!  It will be a joke, as her and I joke like that sometimes.  But the paper needs to be rude enough for her to comment on it so I know she saw it.  Most likely, she won't go through it anytime soon, as she will wait a few weeks to try again, thinking I forgot about it.  So I will have to keep putting them in the living room every so often to get her to make sure she's not starting up again.  

I had taken away her ability to the dishes a couple weeks ago, because a) she doesn't clean them at all and will literally put them away without washing them and b) she dug out two scrubbies from the garbage and placed them back in the holder on the sink.  Fucking ew.  But yesterday, she started to ask to do the dishes again.  As though she was just on punishment and now I can let up on her because enough time has passed.  That's what she did the last time I took away her dishwashing duties due to the same exact issues.  But this time, I took the scrubbies and soap and keep them in my room so she literally can't just start up again on her own.  The thought of her getting them out of the garbage and using them again on our dishes just disgusts me.  So my room has become the place where all things go to hide.  All the household cleaners.  All the bathroom stuff (that's ours).  All the extra kitchen stuff (which should soon go in the basement).  And other random things that I have to hide from her.  Which includes that mail that I have no room for.  I could just throw in into recycling.  Which may be what I do next, because I honestly have no room for a basket full of paper in my bedroom.  Just tear it up again and go from mailbox to recycling bin.  No need to bring it into the house.  But then I fear they're pitching it into landfills anyways, which is why I burn it (we can argue which is worse for the environment later).  She also tries to steal the grocery ads, which I shred and use in my compost in our garden.  

But just like everything else, this will be another thing I will have to either keep on her ass about it or change my behavior about (which irks me because then it feels like she won, but who cares, right?).  I will just have to take away her ability to go through my stuff.  I just hate crowding up my room with a bag of stuff.  And I can't leave it in the garage (this is when I don't know where the stuff will go) because she goes through my stuff in the garage, too.  And with my ADHD, I get too overwhelmed to do it all at once (run errands, bring stuff home, put it away, then find places for the non-grocery items, too).  It's not just my ADHD, I have POTS, and dyspraxia, too, which makes standing on my feet for long periods of time, well, sickening.  So I have to do everything in spurts.  Bring in groceries.  Rest.  Put groceries away.  Rest.  etc. etc.  So my ADHD kicks in, and sometimes the stuff I was going to find a place for I just plain forget about.  Or, like I said, I leave it on purpose to put away later.  I know that sounds annoying to you totally organized people, but you don't live in my head so you have idea what it's like to have to live this way.  I have become way more organized that I used to be.  But its's a process.  A long and drawn out one LOL 

But until then, my mom needs to stay the hell out of my stuff because what I buy is none of her damn business.  I mean, yes, she has dementia, so I am blaming it partially on that, even though I know it's not.  She's always been sooooooo invasive of my things.  ALWAYS.  But I'm just going to remove that cord between us that ties us together that says "What I do I do to you because I have no respect for you" and instead, treat her as the crazy lady she is.  And just stop leaving bags in the living room.  

Ugh.  On one hand, I want my house to be a place I can do things without other people mucking stuff up.  On the other hand, I am trying to be more organized.  So I guess I can look at this as a way to get more organized.  To look at it as a positive thing, rather than hurting my...pride?  Would it be that?  The part of me that says "This is MY space, and MY stuff, and I should be able to put it where I want!"  The part of me that says I am a grown ass woman and if I want a bag in my living room then I should be able to put a bag in my living room.  Instead, I can just remind myself to take care of what I bring into the house immediately because that's the right thing to do on my path to better organization.  Because that's a more healthy way to see things.  Because we all make allotments for those around us who are disabled and we don't hold grudges against them for it.  Like babyproofing a house.  Nobody gets angry at a baby for that.  So I don't need to hold this against my mother, who is like a baby, either.  It's a form of babyproofing.  And catproofing, since my cat is super annoying about getting into my stuff, too.  

Okay, that's settled then.  I will stop this behavior.  I will change my ways and put things away when I get home, immediately or as close to it as possible.  Because it's not about her controlling me (which is what I felt before), it's about idiotproofing the house, as I've done with so many other things.  

And I only call her an idiot because she's a narcissist, not because of her dementia.  I am not a total asshole.  

Okay, off to go make sure nothing is in my living room for baby to get into!  Until next time.  

Today I realized that my mother's emotional abuse of me about eating stems from her own shame about food.  The hard part is how I can reconcile that with me becoming anorexic from age 15-17 (and beyond, off and on) due to my hatred of my body after years and years and years of abuse from her (as well as the abuse I started receiving from my boyfriend at the time during those years, too)?  But here is something I never thought of before: I think my mother was literally starved as a child.  In fact, I think my mother and her brother and sister were all starved.  If you look at pictures of them as children, they were all skin and bones.  She even used to tell me about how everyone called them "Those Skinny McCafferey Kids" when they were kids.  Did nobody ever ask why?  Because my mother has always had a deep shame about food for as long as I've known her, I just never realized it until now.  

"I was the first one at the table for dinner and the last one to leave."  This was something she always told me as a kid.  I always thought it meant because she ate slow.  My grandmother ate slower than anyone I have ever known in my life.  But she also ate like a bird.  And until my mother moved in here, she would literally give her cats more than half of her dinners (which I put a stop to, and made a rule that no cats were allowed on the table when anyone was eating--so the started feeding my dogs).  And now, if she finishes her plate, she always says "I didn't share with the dogs because I was a PIG!!"  Or "Sorry dogs, some PIG ate all the food so you can't have any!"  She constantly calls herself a pig if she finishes all her food.  Which is ludicrous, because I give her normal-sized portions.  I think I finally understand why I have an affliction about eating the last bite of my own meals and will literally get nauseous if I try to.  

Geezus.  

Funny, how when you understand something, it can lessen your own anger for it happening to you.  Not that I am giving her a pass or anything, but since her IQ is lower than dirt, I can see how she could equate her own abuse into abusing others.  Again, not giving her a pass on this, but at least if I can "get it", I don't have to take as much offense.  

I can hear your anger.  I can feel it.  "No, it's still not okay!  My mother can't be excused for what she did to me!"  And I agree.  There is a line we just can't cross that says "just because I've experienced pain doesn't mean I should inflict it on others".  And we don't, do we?  But they do.  And they enjoy it.  It makes them feel better about themselves in some way.  It's that "mean girl" bullshit that they never outgrew.  "If the world is laughing at the person I am picking on, the they aren't laughing at me."  I've done that a few times in my life, in school.  But as an adult, I found that type of behavior immature and horrendous.  So for some reason, they are so stunted, that they just don't grow up.  Maybe it's their sociopathy that keeps them acting like a child?  It has to be.  That gross little part of the human experience that gets a kick out of making others look and feel bad or stupid just so they don't feel that way.  

So I am with you that they don't get an excuse.  But I will reiterate: we can't fault a potato for acting like a potato, because it's a potato, what else can it be?  We don't have to forgive it, or accept it or like it or put up with it, but we can at least try to understand it.  And I am beginning to understand the motivations behind my mother's behavior.  At least some of them.  Someone, most likely her mother, shamed her into believing that eating was a shameful act.  And she carried that with her, all the way until today.  As a child, my mother would get up at midnight and gorge herself on food.  Every single night.  She would barely eat all day, then eat a normal dinner and then go to bed.  And then get up out of her sleep and eat tons of food, in the privacy of her kitchen in the dark, sometimes with me.  She'd call them "midnight snacks".  Corn on the cob was a thing we ate a lot of at midnight in the summer.  Ice cold and covered with thick margarine and salt.  The thought of that makes my mouth salivate, because it was so good.  That little habit never took with me though, I never did the "midnight snack" thing on my own, unless I was coming home from work at midnight, which I sometimes did.  But other than that, I never have gotten up to eat leftovers in the middle of the night.  I think she's outgrown that act, too.  But it was for my entire childhood she did this.  It was as if there was no shame if you ate in the dark, when others were sleeping and nobody would know.  But most of all, it was like it didn't actually happen if it happened during the witching hour.  

How ashamed of yourself must you be to save your hunger until the darkest part of the night?  It wasn't like she ate all day and then gorged at night too, like a normal person with an eating disorder.  She'd starve herself all day, as though the act of starvation was a noble and made her look better than others.  Funny, how I adopted that exact sentiment (minus the "looking better than others" thing) without even realizing it.  Except I didn't eat at midnight.  I just didn't eat.  I always thought it was him.  I thought he was the reason I quit eating entirely.  Little did I know that it had been brewing in me for my entire life.  That I had been witnessing some strange form of anorexia/binging in my mother for my entire freaking life.  

Can I forgive her for this?  Can I say "Look, she has a low IQ, she's dumber than a box of rocks, so how was she supposed to deal with this shame all by herself with zero ability to be introspective or kind?"  I mean, she really doesn't know how to be kind...not really.  She can fake it, but she really has ZERO idea of how to act like a normal person life.  Her sociopathy has stolen every single iota of humanity from her.  It has since the start, perhaps since the moment of conception.  So, how else was she supposed to deal with her own shame around food other than trying to push it off on me?  Hurt people hurt people.  

I am not giving her excuses.  She abused me and created horrible things inside of me, such as anorexia and body shame and so much more.  BUT...I just plain don't want to care about it anymore.  I just want to stop caring what she thinks of me, period and instead, work on healing the damage she's inflicted on me.  I am 45 now.  I don't have time worry about what a 75 year old crazy and stupid person thinks of what I eat anymore (she was still abusing me on this until 2021...actually, it got worse after moving in here together).  

I can see more for what she truly is: a sad, sorry, broken shell of a human being who feels tremendous amounts of shame all day, every day, even now at 75 years old.  And I feel bad for her.  I can't fix her, but I can fix the parts of me that are broken because of her.  At least on this part.  And maybe on other things, too.  But for right now, I'll just concentrate on healing my food issues (which I have a lot of).  And I can work on letting go of my own shame, because it really was never my shame to begin with, it was hers that she pawned off on me.    I can see that now.  All these comments each day about how she's a PIG if she cleans her plate, and whatnot.  When she says that, my heart aches, because no child should be called a pig for eating food, no matter how much they eat.  That's fucked.  Or maybe my dad called her that?  He did used to fat shame her as an adult.  It was sick.  Maybe that's why she fat shames strangers to this day?  Because people only fat shame others if they feel bad about themselves.  

Sigh.  I just don't know.  It's a sticky place to be, to want to just let something go, but at the same time, not let someone off the hook for being an asshole your whole life about something.  

One day at a time, right?  Today, I have compassion for her, hearing the way she talks about herself.  Tomorrow, I may be angry again, if she tries to fat shame my son again.  Though, I think I will say something to her like "You must feel pretty bad about yourself if think that's appropriate to say to another human being, much less your grandson."  That should make her stop for a bit.  If I say that every single time, she may just stop completely.  

We'll see.  My son is getting pretty annoyed with her, and has yelled at her to stop being naggy a few times this week, so maybe he'll just say "Wow, grandma, that's rude as fuck."  I'll high five him if he says that LOL  

Okay, time for bed.  Tomorrow is a new day.  Let's hope she'll be good.  

Who cares about if she copied the card or not?  I was being obsessive about nitpicking her motivations.  I guess just deep down, she disappoints me so much that I just look for more ways for her to disappoint me.  

Let me tell you something.  Ever since I was a small child, I had this secret.  I was adopted, and I had a secret family that loved me and cared about me and wanted me, unlike the idiots who adopted me.  But then, around age 22, I found out I was wrong.  The minute I met my birthmother, I wrote her a poem about how I was grateful to her for giving me up.  And she just nodded and put it away and never said a word about it.  The moment I met her, she disappointed me.  She was no different than my own family.  Although my own mother would have cried at the poem, because even though she's a terrible mother and a terrible person, she's sentimental, like me.  And things touch us in the feels.  And I didn't get this robot who stood before me, who carried me for 9 months inside her body and then pushed me out of it, only to have zero feelings about me.  I was a mother by then.  And I would do anything for my son.  And here my own mother, who was the same age as I was when I gave birth, when she gave birth to me, and I became an actual mother.  Whereas she was just a carrier of her spawn.  I did not get her.  I could not relate to her.  And frankly, I did not much like her.  It's been over 20 years later now, and I still don't get her (though I understand her more), and I still do not relate to her (though I do, a little), and frankly, I still don't really like her (though I do, in a surface way--like an acquaintance).  She calls me her daughter, but treats me like an old neighbor.  Like somebody she used to know.  

And I get so confused as to what I should expect from her.  I think I'll do like I did with my ex-husband and stop expecting anything at all.  That way I can't be disappointed.  It was easy with me, as we're divorced.  But she's my very complicated family member.  I just don't know how to feel about anything with her.  Sigh.  

Anyways, my birthday was yesterday and my mother actually did something nice for me, for once.  She bought some very cute shirts and some chicken decor (we have chickens now).  It was actually well-thought out and I am proud she did something nice for once.  It's a bit.  So that was a good thing.  Other than the fact I held up one shirt and she said "Oh my god, that's so BIG, isn't it?"  Then I tried it on and it fit perfectly.  Yes, mother, it's huge.  Like me (I'm not huge, but that' show she makes me feel...that's her new thing, calling all my clothes huge for some reason).  

Then today, she sends a birthday card off to my aunt.  And I am so sick and tired of my family pretending like I don't exist, and my mother enabling it.  It's so fucked up.  She allows it to happen: my cousins sent her a house-warming gift, but didn't include my name.  They will send her cards or call her for holidays or her birthday, and nothing is ever said to me, nor are our names included on the holidays cards.  She sends them all cards back, and never lets me sign them (I don't feel comfortable sending my own--they don't like me).  What's fucked is by her keeping up the this entire charade, she's enabling their shitty behavior.  So, I've been taking to opening her cards and signing them after her name, and then resealing them and sending them off.  HA!  This sends the message "Look, my daughter lives with me, all you assholes will not treat her as though she doesn't exist!!"  Like a REAL mom.  I mean, it's a made up version of her, but they never ask her about it, so ha!  I win.  If my mother won't actually stick up for me?  I will make damn sure they think she will.  I will not be treated like I do not live in this house.  Fuck them.  And fuck her, too for enabling it.  So my aunt, who used to send me birthday cards before my fucked up dumbass cousin got her to hate me (well, it was me who got them all to hate me, but in reality, I didn't do anything wrong...they all are just narcissists who think that me spilling the beans about my childhood meant I was a crazy person--her words she actually said to me).  So now, she'll never get another one from my mother without me signing it.  

Knives work well to open the card's seal without breaking the envelope, as well as glue sticks to close them back up.  Just a hint, in case you want to know.  Craft knives work best.  

Now, I don't want these fuckers in my life.  I don't want then visiting our house.  I don't want anything to do with them.  But I do not want to be made to feel that me and my family do not exist (something they've done LOOOOOOONG before they ever stopped talking me).  BE FUCKING POLITE.  Include my family's names in the holiday cards, since I do live in this damn house.  AND remember, I am my mother's daughter, not just some hobo who lives with her.  I am not asking for birthday cards.  But I do require that my family at least be acknowledged on Christmas.  Because that's super fucked up to send anything at all if you're going to leave out a majority of the family members who live there.  In grade Kindergarten, we all learned: give cards to the WHOLE class or none at all.  Too bad my asshole family can't remember that.  Oh well, at least think I'm the polite one now.  Ha!  

But in all seriousness, by signing that card, it's telling them "we are one family", not some broken up pieces that people can sweep under a rug.  Before I went no contact the last time with her, and before this blog got started back in 2013 (or whenever)?  My mother and I WERE one.  Everything we did, we did together (we were enmeshed, it was terrible).  And now everyone acts like it's just her and we're not here.  Well, I got my mother to finally change enough to be mostly nice to us (I say mostly, because there are small digs and big digs here and there from her) and now I am going to stop letting her enable my extended family in believing I'm a piece of shit for going no contact with her.  It's done and over with, they can get over it.  And my mother can stop playing this stupid game that she's allowed to keep separating me from the rest of my family by pretending she's separate from me.  She is separate, but not in that way.  Not in the way she presents to others.  

Well, at least she's stopped talking shit about me, so that's something.  And now she will stop playing this game between them and me, whether she likes it or not.  There is no separation anymore.  It's not "my mom and them" vs "me" anymore.  It's us, and them.  And if they don't like it, don't talk to us anymore.  My biggest asshole cousin stopped talking to my mother (she can't get her supply from her anymore).  Maybe the rest will follow??  We can only hope.  But if not, they will at least respect the fact I am live in this house and I am taking care of her.  And they will respect the fact I am her daughter.  I am not asking for anything else.  Then again, I am not "asking" for anything at all.  I am creating a space to get the respect I deserve.  Even if that means resorting to opening my mother's mail and signing her stupid cards with mine and my family's names (actually, the card was really nice and really cute...though I did pick it out for her, which another reason it's bullshit she doesn't ask me to sign it).  

Well, my birthday was fun and my hubby and kids and I all watched Deadpool 2 on our projector we got a million years ago but never used.  It was awesome!!  So yes, 45 is nice so far.  I hope the rest of the year will be nice, too :) 

Tomorrow is my birthday and Saturday I got a card from my birthmother.  Or as I call her, my progenitor.  Birthmother suggests a woman who wants to keep her baby, but can't and decides to give them a better life.  Rather than what she did, give me away to strangers at 6 months old, because she was sick of being a mom.  Hey, I get it. Not all people are cut out for this.  It's hard.  Especially with zero support.  BUT...you do not give away a 6 month old baby, you realize that shit right after they are born.  Though usually, it's before.  Well, I can't be too hard on her, she did actually want to give me up at birth, but only because of two reasons: her mother was forcing her and her boyfriend left her.  Turns out, he wasn't my father, so it was a good thing he left (I mean, if she loved him so much, why did she have sex with his best friend, even before she had sex with her boyfriend?--though I know my birthfather, he may have did was my rapist did, and made her feel like she couldn't say no...but I have no idea, I wasn't there).  So at the last second, my grandmother said "Bring her home!" and so she did.  And as it turns out, she wasn't mother material.  And that's something I really do understand.  Not all people are like me.  Sometimes I forget that.  I was born to be a mother and to give up everything (well, I don't feel I gave up anything at all, actually, as this was my path) to be only a mom.  Not all women want that.  And so in my opinion, not all women should be mothers.  I always high five the women who say "I will never have kids", because too many women are forced to do it and don't want it.  So kudos to the gals out there who don't feel society's parental fetish who think every single person should be a parent. 

But then there is me.  The product of all this bullshit.  The one who was ripped out of the only home I knew, the only people I loved and knew, and put into foster care at 6 months old, and then moved to another home, and then to yet another, all before the age of two.  That has seriously fucked me up in life, giving me a higher ACE score before I turned 5.  Oh, and then being adopted into a fucking abusive alcoholic home??  Yep.  I was destined to be in this life I guess.  Being 45 tomorrow and still trying to undo allllllllll this bullshit that started with her.  How can I not be angry about it?  I wouldn't even have given it a second thought if I hadn't found out about being 6 months old and given away.  Well, that's not true.  I was always angry at her for not saying "I am sorry!  I am sorry you had a shitty upbringing, that makes me feel horrible that my choices put you in that!!"  Not that I blame her, she had no idea that would happen.  But the fact she takes ZERO responsibility for it, as though it had nothing to do with her (I mean it didn't, but it also did).  

For my 40th, do you know what kind of card I got from her?  

I didn't.  She fucking forgot. 

My 40th fucking sucked, by the way.  All because I expected too much and got nothing in return.  It was my own fault, but it wasn't my fault that my grandma (my birthmother's mother, who I've always had contacdt with) and my birthmother both fucking forgot my 40th birthday.  So I did a childish thing and got on my son's Facebook and wrote to both of them and shamed them for forgetting.  So I got two belated cards in the mail that year.  No "Oops, I am sorry we forgot".  My birthmother got me a handmade card, and copied a sentiment from a Hallmark card in her handwriting, to make it look like she wrote it.  I was like, um....that's super fucked up.  Either send me the Hallmark card or write a fucking note yourself.  

And this year, she sent me a "LovePop" card, which folded out into flowers.  And instead of getting the blank one where she could write something herself and maybe include some pics or something cute, she opted to pay $5 more to have them print me a note from her (that she wrote) and have them send it to me...with, yet again, something she copied from a Hallmark card.  

Sigh.  Why not send me real flowers with the Hallmark card instead?  I mean, I hate real flowers, I am not hating on the cute card.  I am hating on the fact she can't AT ALL be real with me and just handwrite me a note or something on her cards.  Or stop being a wiener and send me the actual card she copied the sentiments from.  I don't get that.  Does anyone else do that?  Copy Hallmark cards to make people believe you're a poet?  Because nobody buys that.  

So, I am scouring the Hallmark site to find the card she copied.  I don't know why.  I just want to see proof of it.  

Here is the real issue I have with my relationship with her: 

She calls me her daughter.  She tells people I am her daughter.  Not her birthdaughter, but her daughter.  Which is so beyond fucked up to me.  But I don't know how to tell her.  Maybe I could just ask her one day to stop?  If she says it again or she writes it on something I see (like on her Classmates.com profile says she has one daughter), I could just say "Hey, can you maybe not degrade what our relationship is here?  Because by pretending we're mother and daughter and not birthmother and daughter, you are removing all the shit we'd been through because of it.  Saying I am your birthdaughter is like a badge of honor, not something negative.  But by ignoring it, you're acting like it is."  Plus, it's just infuriating.  I am not her fucking daughter.  She did not raise me.  She is my birthmother.  There is a HUGE difference.  But she keeps going around, playing pretend, telling people she has a daughter that lives in another state.  Which is bullshit.  

Oh, and we stayed with her for a week back in 2008 and she literally got angry with me for not stepping up and doing the dishes.  I kept our stuff clean and nice and was so worried the entire time that we were imposing, so I made sure everything went as smoothly as possible.  But she had the nerve to get angry with me for not doing the dishes one night...the next day, we went home.  Apparently, she is horrible with houseguests (so says her sister).  But still...you want to call me your kid and you can't even spend a week with me without being annoyed??  Fuck, I am glad you weren't my mother.  I had enough of that with my own mother.  

There is a point when you are surrounded by narcissists in life where you start to believe the issue is YOU and not them.  She did nothing to make me feel like I belonged in her life, either.  In fact, I can give you all a laundry list of things she's done to make me feel like the exact opposite.  

And yes, narcissism runs through her family like diarrhea at a spoiled meat convention, just like my own family.  She's either a reverse narcissist or a SEVERELY codependent person.  Though, are they any different?  

What was her excuse for forgetting my 40th?  Maybe my birth happened so long ago that she just couldn't keep track anymore?  She has a track record for missing holidays and birthdays with us.  And now, both my grandma and her play a game that if I don't send them a card, they don't send me one.  And if they were my friends, I'd totally say that was okay.  But I didn't ask to be born.  I didn't ask for the bullshit both of these women created for me in my life.  Both of them are at fault for how my life came to be in this world.  And while I am 45 now (in a few hours), I know I have my own responsibility for my life (and have for many years), I still can't say "Oh well, you guys.  No biggie."  Because what they did to me does matter.  And I will find a way through my anger one day.  I will come out the other side about this entire thing and forgive them and move on.  But right now, and for the past few years?  Was the first time I actually started processing my anger.  So I am at the beginning of this still.  And will be for some time.  

Now, my birthmother has ASD, like me (as does my birthfather).  He's a raging narcissist (and I mean OVERT) with paranoid personality disorder, as was his sister, who was a violent abusive asshole.  My birthmother is a reverse narcissist, who has no empathy for humans (only animals), which both she and her sister have told me.  My maternal aunt (her sister) is a raging narcissist.  My maternal grandmother is a raging narcissist.  My uncles--I have no clue.  But this shit runs through my DNA like I said above.  And yet, somehow, I didn't inherit it.  I did inherit their ASD.  But not the narcissism or lack of empathy.  Even though I was raised by one.  Crazy.  

As I was writing this, my birthmother actually called me on the phone--first time in maybe two years or more??  Wow, that was fucking weird.  She forgets my 40th, which was a big deal to me (also, I had JUST gone no contact with my actual mother so, my birthday was really weird that year), but not only sends me a vase of paper flowers, but calls me for my 45th?  Maybe she feels guilty.  I doubt it.  My birthmother gets something up her ass and she will do something for no apparent reason, but then never do it again.

OMFG.  The call wasn't even for me.  It was for my mother.  From her old BFF who always thinks my number is my mom's number, calling to tell her happy belated birthday.  Yeah, I didn't think my own birthmother would take time out of her busy days of being retired to give me a call.  She didn't even contact me during the pandemic to see if I was okay.  She never calls me.  She texted me once.  To send me pics of her on vacation in another country.  I had no idea what the pics even were, as I had no idea she was on vacation, as we hadn't talked in a year or more.  Just pictures in my text messages of random nature scenes...so I wrote back "what are these?"  She's all like "Oh em gee!  I am on vacation!!"  I was like "yay for you" (I didn't actually say that).  But that was the last I heard from her in probably another year.  She never writes to me.  Never calls me.  But then out of the blue will do something sporadic and act like it's perfectly normal.  So out of touch with reality she is.  

So, I'm going to go read more Hallmark cards, because I am bored and waiting for my hubby to wake up.  And because I just want to see proof that she's a fraud.  I mean, I already know she is.  But still.  

And I need to go mow the lawn, too.  Yay.  

UPDATE: the battery died and I couldn't finish mowing.  AGAIN.  LOL

Anyways, I also could not find the card she knicked hers off of.  Which is fine.  In all honest, it doesn't matter.  She never calls me or contacts me or has anything to do with me and only does when she wants to brag about something she's done or is doing.  After so many years of that, I stopped answering her messages when she asked to see me when she came up here to visit her family.  "I will be up there, can we meet up?"  Sometimes I would make an excuse and other times I'd just ignore her.  Because every time I'd say yes, she'd never show up.  And I was tired of being let down.  And I was tired of her having the upper hand.  The first time I said no, I made up some fake family member that didn't exist and said we were going to their wedding that weekend.  The next time, I just plain didn't respond.  

It's so odd.  The last time I saw my whole birthfamily was several years ago and my uncle ran out and hugged like he'd missed me so much.  But then he never once contacted me on Facebook (even though he talked to my birthmother on there all the time) and stopped sending me Christmas cards (even though I sent him cards).  I really fucking hate mixed signals.  

So here is her card.  And I am telling you, no normal human talks like this.  It's straight up Hallmark.  

Happy Birthday Shay!

45 years ago this little tiny human appeared in the world.  
Now a mother yourself, you created a family, a home, a
place to be, a place to live, a place to love.  

I am so proud of who you are, and hope that your 
creative spirit continues to inspire us all.  

Love, 

'Ol Ironed Hair (her name in my memoir)

Yeah.  It's just....odd.  Again, if it was a card, it would be cute.  But it's a personal message she wrote into the space on the website, most likely copy and pasted from somewhere that I cannot find.  Not a single personal thing to say.  

Oh well, I shouldn't be so picky, right?  At least she remembered this time LOL

If you haven't tested your ACE score yet, you should do so.  If you don't know what an ACE score is, then keep on reading and take the test below.  

ACE stands for Adverse Childhood Experiences and every single human gets a score between 0 and 10 (though, I think there should be a few more).  And the more help you got with your adverse childhood experiences, the better off you become later in life.  And the least help you got, means you are at higher risk for mental health issues, physical health issues, and emotional health issues.  

Here is the test.  Before the age of 18, did any of these happen?

1. Emotional or verbal abuse?
2. Physical abuse?
3. Sexual abuse?
4. Emotionally neglected? 
5. Physically neglected?
6. Parents separated or divorced?
7. Saw your mother or stepmother get physically abused (though I find this sexist, it would apply to fathers, too...and I would argue that verbal or emotional abuse should count, too)? 
8. Someone in the house was an addict (alcohol or drugs)?
9. Someone in the house suffered from mental illness in some form or another?
10. Someone in the house went to prison? 

Today, Mummy turns 75.  So I woke up early, called my kids (they were both in my oldest son's room, I could hear them) and told them "Make sure you wish Grandma a happy birthday when you come out."  I had literally forgotten about it until last night around midnight, when my dog sat on my phone and turned the screen on and it said "Mom's Birthday Tomorrow" on the notifications.  Oops!  

Well, it all turned out as Mr. Brooks and I went and bought her candy, cakes, ice cream, a decoration, and gifts, all before he left for work.  I was sick yesterday, and feared I'd be sick again today, but our excursion outdoors went off without a hitch.  I found her a fake cactus to put in her room (she loves cacti) and got her a coffee cup that said "Cat Lady" on it.  And I found her chocolates and a fake succulent in a pot and I can't remember what else.  I stuffed an entire gift bag full.  

I don't make a big deal about her birthdays anymore.  Back when she had her faculties about her, we'd all be forced to go out to dinner with her, at a restaurant she picked.  Which was fine, it was her birthday.  But a week later, we'd be forced to go again for my birthday (nobody asked me what I wanted to do), again, at a place she picked.  Oh, I'd tell her where I wanted to go, but I was never allowed.  She always ended up taking us to wherever she felt like going.  If we chose to go out and invited her, she never once went with.  Because she had to be in charge.  During lockdown, we chose to go get sushi for our oldest son's birthday and she had no choice but to be there, since we all lived in the same house and we were eating at home.  And she was livid.  But ever since, she's not said a peep.  Because I yelled at her about it.  We all stopped going out to eat with her a few years ago when she had a meltdown when we picked the restaurant and made her go with for my husband's birthday.  We told her that was the last time.  She tried on the next birthday to plan another dinner and I flat out said "Remember last time?  I meant it when I said we're never going out with you again."  Not only that, she's so rude anymore about people when we're out that she's embarrassing.  Once, she was making fun of an obese family loud enough they could hear her.  That should have been the last time. But her meltdown was big enough that she knew she had done something wrong, even though she never admitted it.  

But ever since moving here and becoming WOTH and she's become GOTH (woman of the house and grandma of the house--she thought she was woman of the house and my husband was man of the house, until I made it very clear that she's the old woman that just lives here and is not in charge), her birthdays are quiet and small and we don't go anywhere.  It's pretty much like any other day, except there is cake and ice cream and gifts.  She doesn't complain, even though I know she's most likely disappointed.  Which sucks and I am not trying to be mean, but her medical issues make it so she can't go anywhere.  So there is nothing I can do about that.  

Though today, she's been saucy.  Maybe she's angry?  But she has days like this, thinking she can boss people around again.  It's funny, how much you forget someone is the way they are until they aren't that way anymore.  And then later, they remind you, and you think "Whoah.  I forgot about this person you used to be.  I am so freaking glad you aren't like this every single day anymore."  

Today, she's been on my oldest son's case (what else is new?) about whatever he's doing.  She was on his case on Sunday, too, when he cooked pork chops for us for Mother's Day.  She kept screaming at him that he was cooking it wrong, even though she has ZERO idea of how to cook a pork chop.  

My mother's identity is wrapped up in the idea she was a fabulous cook.  Turns out, she was a HORRIBLE cook for her entire life and had no idea what she was doing.  It's so narcissistic that she honestly believes she's a great cook and refuses to listen to anyone who tells her otherwise.  Hell, my dad, who was a tugboat operator, used to chuck his lunches out to the sea gulls just so he didn't have to eat her cooking.  And yet, she gets on my son's case, who has learned to cook from Gordon Ramsey (and not me, since he likes food I have no idea how to make), and I think it's because she cannot stand that her scapegoat is so much better than her at everything in every single way.  

So then today, she grabbed ahold of one of our chickens and almost killed it and he's yelling "Let it go, you're hurting it, let it go!" and she refused.  So he snapped at her and she finally let go.  Then he was building a chicken run by our coop and she's bitching at him he's doing it wrong, and he's like "She doesn't even know how to do what I'm doing, why does she think she needs to tell me anything at all??"  He had to snap at her again to get her to shut up.  And then she acts like HE did something wrong.  Way to go, ma, getting your narcissistic supply in yer berfday!  Yee haw!!  

He's 24.  And I am his mom and I know that I shouldn't have to come to his defense all the time (he doesn't like it when I do), but damn, does it piss me off she treats him so badly.  I just want to fart on her plate and say "There is your birthday cake.  Dig in, ye old seahag."  That's our nickname for her, by the way.  It's very fitting.  

Then she says two things to me today that I kept telling my husband "She's lucky it's her freaking birthday."  First, well, second, I'll say the first one last.  Secondly, I got to sit outside with her, something I never do because she smokes (and I can't stand being around her) and she starts in on me about the yard.  I mowed half of the backyard on Mother's Day.  The kids mowed the front, but the back is long as fuck, so I wanted to do it.  I just got a new mower (electric!) and didn't want anyone fucking around with the long grass.  And the battery ran out.  Monday, Mr. Brooks was supposed to finish it, but he just didn't do it for some reason.  I was sick all day, like felt total balls all freaking day (ending with a bad experience) and today it's 90 degrees out.  So there is no way I am mowing in this heat.  I am totally heat intolerant.  And she's all bitching at me today to hire someone.  AND THIS IS WHY I DON'T SIT OUTSIDE WITH YOU, MA!!  She has no idea how to talk to me unless she's asking me to do something for her, or telling me what to do.  I ignored her.  And went back inside.  

Then, right before that, she says in the kitchen "Oh, by the way, how did driving go for you?"  I was like huh??  Whatchoo talkin' about Willis?  And she said "Oh I saw you driving."  I just sneered my eyes at her and said "I drive all the freaking time, don't be weird about it."  Inside, I was livid.  Granted, I know she most likely wasn't being rude to me, but it doesn't matter.  She doesn't get to participate in that part of my life.  How my life goes is NONE if her damn business.  Not after what she's done to me about it all.  

See, I stopped driving back in 2011 or so.  For several years.  My anxiety got so bad back then I suffered from suicidal ideation.  And my mother did everything she could to make it worse for me.  Like, so much so, that she was the reason it got so bad.  She has always been super horrible to be bout my anxiety.  Like not just shaming me privately, like a normal narcissist, but picking on me to others in front of my face to humiliate me and shaming me publicly, just to either get a laugh from someone else, or so it doesn't look bad on her.  She has said things to me that I can never forgive and won't ever even try to.  But I get it, she's an idiot who doesn't understand anything in life.  And I am not even exaggerating here.  So I don't care what she thinks about me anymore.  But I refuse to have her play "nice mom" about it, when she won't even attempt to apologize for what she's done to me.  So fuck her.  She doesn't even know what she's asking me.  She's just got something up her sleeve, whether it's another way to shame me (she knows I drive all the time), or she's just being demented with her dementia.  I don't know, but I do not care.  

When I did try to start driving again, she refused to let me drive her car, for fear I would crash it (she said this out loud in front of people).  I had never been in an accident (except for one when I was 19, though it wasn't my fault) and I drive a thousand times better than her.  But she was publicly humiliating me about it, so it made her feel better to make me look bad, rather than look like a good mother.  But then again, she has no idea what that even looks like.  Well, if she ever paid attention to me, she'd see, but she doesn't see me as I am, just the way she wants me to be. 

I was born with crippling anxiety.  When it gets really bad, it will swerve into the realm of paranoia.  As a child, I was terrified someone was going to break into our house and hurt us.  I was terrified of dark windows, especially since we lived right next to a forest preserve and I just knew that someone in the night was looking back me at as I looked out our open windows.  And they were watching and knew that if my parents left, I'd be ripe for the pickin'.  It didn't help she left me home alone quite regularly, even when I was way too young to be left home alone (not to mention the nights I'd wake up home alone with the back door wide open, as my mother never shut it and would take my father to work at 3am).  I would work myself up into a frenzy, until I was either under the kitchen table, rocking and crying, waiting for them to come back or pressed up against the front door.  We didn't have curtains on the door, so I knew someone could see me through them, but if I pressed myself up against it, nobody could see me and I would be safe.  

My parents would come back, find me under the table, shaking and crying and terrified, but instead of the warm motherly hugs of reassuring safety, all I got was "Jesus fucking Christ" with an eyeroll.  "Get out from under there, what's wrong with you??  We can't even go anywhere without you freaking out!"  I think I was like 7.  Maybe younger.  Why on earth they had to go anywhere in the middle of the day without me was beyond me, and still is.  The funny part is they never worried when I was home alone.  Not at all.  They never called to check on me (though I constantly called them).  They never even thought about me when they were gone.  But they were all I thought about when I was alone.  Where were they?  How long would they be?  Would I be kidnapped or die before they came back? 

This is where it began.  

My anxiety morphed into horrible ways (I got into detail in my memoir, which I will list here when it's available).  And each new way brought more judgement, ridicule, punishments, and cruelty.  It's funny, how you think about things abstractly and you think "It wasn't that bad".  But then you think about all the concrete things, about all the ways she took the one thing that gave me the most grief and not only made it worse but enjoyed doing so.  And then I realize, yes, it really was that bad.  It was worse than I thought it was.  

And then she plays this game, where she asks me about my anxiety, as though she even understands what she's asking.  As though she never did those things.  As though I am not supposed to remember them.  And yet, I remember all of it.  It's all I can remember.  And I am supposed to be nice about it?  So when I said today, "Don't be weird, I drive all the time" in a shitty voice, with a shitty look on my face, on her freaking birthday, I do not feel bad.  She brought this on herself.  She may not put two and two together, as she denies ever doing any of it, but I don't care.  I really don't.  She was a horrible woman who had me in her home and did the minimal amount of work she had to do to get me from point A to point B.  Actually, she didn't do the minimal, she did the least she could do right and still be able to deny it.  Anything worse, and it would be harder to deny.  

In a week is my birthday.  And once she told her husband (not my father) that as a child, I could not wait until my birthday to get gifts, and would always require I get one on her birthday.  She literally made that up.  She was answering his question of "Why do you give my daughters gifts on the other girls' birthday?"  And instead of telling the easy truth, that I have two kids with ASD (though she doesn't know that), I started that when my youngest was born, so that way they'd feel better about waiting six months to get a wrapped gift.  She thought it was freaking stupid.  But soon, she started adopting it and then the boys each got two gifts on their brother's birthday (she dubbed them "unbirthday gifts"). one from the each of us.  But instead, she just out of the blue, made up that total freaking lie.  And he died believing it.  And the saddest part is that he died thinking I was a fucking little brat as a kid, when nothing could be further from the truth.  I loved my mother's birthday!  I loved Mother's Day, too!  I loved giving gifts!  But mostly, I loved giving her gifts.  Because I wanted to please my mother and I knew that giving her stuff was one way to do that.  Even though she always hated what I got her.  But I never realized that as a kid.  She always found some fault with it, but with my ASD, I never picked up on it.  Not until adulthood.  Today she did that to me.  But I just laughed at her and knew that it didn't matter, as I spent very little money on her because I honestly do not give a flying pig's squat about her birthday anymore.  I did buy her things she loves.  But she still found fault in it (though not in my gifts, but with something relating to them).  She is not awake if she not bitching.  That should go on her eventual gravestone.  "If the woman was breathing, she was bitching.  And alas, the bitching has finally stopped."  Will they carve that into it for me?  Oh, I just googled it, maybe not, but I certainly can get an engraved stone with anything I want on it.  HA!   I am so going to bury that right into the ground right under her name.  Look it up on Etsy, they will carve anything.  Score!  That actually makes me feel better. 

Anyways, today was like any other day, other than the fact that she got cake and ice cream and gifts.  She did get bitchy today, but what else is new?  And next week is my birthday, and because she's involved, it will also be boring, because we can't do anything with her, due to her physical issues, and I can't leave her home alone.  But I'm okay with that.  Boring is SOOOOO much better than what it was when I was a kid.  Every birthday was a chance for my parents to get drunk and ruin everything and fistfight each other (or try to fistfight me).  Huh.  Wonder why I hated my birthdays for so many years?  Now, I am okay with boring.  Boring is better than insane.  

Happy Birthday, Ma.  Cheers to a Tuesday.