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Birthday Fun

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My son turned 21 yesterday.  It was low-key as there isn't much to do in our town, especially during the day.   We had plans to go to the huge arcade in town, but as it turns out, their "packages" don't start until 4pm.  And at 4pm on a Friday, it will be packed.  So we decided to wait until Tuesday to go.  Though, before we knew that, we were getting ready to go and my mother said to me "I hope you're not getting ready to go eat without me.  I mean it's his 21st and I don't want to miss it and I was thinking"...good god, no..."that it's Friday night so everyone has a good fish fry!!  And..." here it goes, per usual..."Alpine End restaurant has a great one!"  

Alpine's End is a tiny little...not a cafe, really, but more like a diner.  And it's my mother's favorite place to go.  When she goes there, she always get's the chopped steak.  Which is literally a fucking hamburger without a bun, and treated as though it's a steak.  I mean, it's good, but you can make it at home for 1/4th the freaking price.  So let me tell you a story about this place and why I hate it.  

For one, it's stupid.  It's a dinky little hole in the wall, that you only go to when you don't want to cook at home.  It's cheap, semi-home cooked style food.  Though it's not as cheap as making it yourself.  Which is what this place is: full of food you can easily cook yourself.  But, that's not really why I don't like it.  I don't like it because of my mother's penchant for going there on people's birthdays.  And I mean, everyone's, not just hers.  Because, see, my mother used to have a ritual of taking people out for their birthdays.  She would do the same thing each time: 

  1. A few weeks before, ask you where you want to go for your birthday to eat. 
  2. Get you riled up to go to your chosen place, by talking about how cool it sounds.
  3. A week before your birthday, she'll start in on how it'll be too expensive/too hard/too complicated. etc.  to go to your chosen place.  
  4. A day before or day of your birthday, she will decide that we are all going to Alpine End, because it's just "easier".  
This happened 4 times a year, plus her birthday, in which she just says "we're going to Alpine End, end of story", so that's 5 times a year we had to go.  

Though, the last two times we went out with her, she let us pick the restaurant.  The first time, we went to Golden Corral and the entire time, all she did was (very loudly) fat shame people.  Like full on, cheeks puffed out, walking around like she's Professor Clump from "The Nutty Professor", while pointing at people.  I can't even say it was her dementia, as she's always fat shamed people since I've become an adult (even though as a child, she drilled it into my head that fat shaming was the worst thing you can do, even worse than being racist or homophobic--granted, it was the 80's and all adults were homophobic).  But this was so over the top.  But that's how she is: she gets on a train of thought and wears it out like an aspergery little kid, and as times goes on, it gets worse and worse, until she gets into trouble.  

After that, we decided that maybe going out with her anywhere should stop all together, as she was getting totally squirrely every time we went anywhere (like, touching black people's hair, or making fun of black women's hair, or complimenting black people's hair in really strange ways).  This was for my youngest son's birthday, the same one who turned 21 yesterday.  Then came my husband's birthday a few months later. 

So, we were out and about, going grocery shopping, and there was a Famous Dave's nearby, so we stopped and had lunch.  It was delicious!  My mom loved it, I loved it, and so did my kids.  So we said "That's it, this is where my hubby should go for his birthday!" which was in a few days.  He agreed, hearing about how amazing it was.  But then the day came and she started whining and complaining before we went there, about how we should go to Alpine End instead, as there would be less people because it's a weekend.  I was angry.  So I said "No, this is where he wants to go.  He loves brisket and your place doesn't have it."  It had nothing to do with the price, as at that time, she was loaded (back when she was stealing from the government and supposedly "forgot" about it).  But she wanted to go to her place.  Now, you could say "Oh Shay, sounds like your mother has anxiety about going to crowded places!"  Hahahaha!  You would be wrong, my friend, as she LOVES to go to the most crowded place in town, an award winning local restaurant for prime rib, but cannot afford it if she has to pay for more than herself.  So she'd go there as much as she could, whenever she'd go with friends and everyone pays for themselves.  So it has nothing to do with crowds at all.  It has to do with controlling us on our birthdays.  I mean, what better way to control someone than to take away something they want to do on the most important day of the year for that person?  

And here is the kicker, as dear ol' dad used to say: my anxiety prevents me from eating in restaurants ever since I was a little kid.  Right before the pandemic, I had gotten over this, for the most part.  Yesterday, as it turns out, taught me that not only am I not over it anymore, since I haven't eaten anywhere in public for over two years, that it's back with a raging force.  It was all I could do not to throw up when everyone was eating.  For my son's 21st birthday, I sat there, staring at a wall, not breathing through my nose so I didn't have to smell the food, while my husband and kids ate.  I ordered nothing.  I felt like such an asshole, but I had no idea that was going to happen to me.  This is how I used to be, back before I overcame it.  It saddens me to see almost 40 years of work, right down the tube over a little two-year stint away from eating out.  Sigh.  And on my son's birthday, no less.  

Anyways, this is how I lived my life until I had gotten over it.  Ever since childhood.  I HATED eating in public, because all I wanted to do was throw the fuck up.  And my mother, goddess save her wretched soul (I joke, I am an atheist), used to use this against me.  And did until I stopped it all myself after my hubby's birthday (I was cured of those panic attacks at that time).  So, I'd order food, it would come, I would try to chew it, but I'd almost gag.  So I would breath through my nose, trying not to literally throw up on the table, swallow, run to the bathroom, put cold water on my neck and wrists, calm down, go back to the table and not eat until we left.  And the entire meal, my mother would pick on me for not eating.  Not even in a funny way, but a mean way, all the while rolling her eyes at me.  Then she'd get angry that as soon as I'd get home, I'd my food in the microwave and eat it.  I am surprised she even let me.  So, going out to eat on our birthdays?  Was never for us.  EVER.  Not once.  It was always for her, because she loved it and always will.  And I'd only agree so my family would get a free meal, as we were so poor that a single meal we didn't have to pay for could help us not run out of food that week.  And not only was the act of going out just for her, it was a slight against me.  As she knew damn well of my anxiety about going out.  Especially on my fucking birthday.  She could have said "Let's order in!"  But nope.  We always had to go out.  Even when I was a kid.  And each time we went out, she would use the entire night to humiliate me.  

So, we went to Famous Dave's, in two cars as there wasn't enough room in either of our cars for 5 people.  My kids drove her car and we drove our minivan with my mother (we didn't have the back seat put in, so there wasn't enough space for all of us).  We got our seat and she bitched the entire time we were there, talked about how horrible the food was, and just was horrible the entire night.  The icing on the cake was when we were leaving, the parking lot was so dark and they were renovating it, so it was tore up in places, and my husband turned the wrong way and she literally started screaming at the top of her lungs, like a fucking nutso.  I about slapped her.  I told her to shut up when other people are driving and she did until we got home.  The next day she screamed at me about the whole thing and literally said to me "Next time??  I pick the restaurant!!"  I laughed and said "There will be no next time.  We're never going out to eat with you for our birthdays, or any other time, ever again."  

Can I just insert here for a moment to tell you how AMAZING that felt to say to her?  After almost 40 years of dealing with her total insane assholey bullshit, I finally told her no more.  I never, ever had to endure the torture it is to be in a restaurant with her again.  To make that decision and say it out loud was AAAHHHMAYZING!  

Okay, back to it.  She snorted, rolled her eyes, and said "Okay," as if she didn't believe me.  Little did she know, that unlike her, when I say something?  I fucking mean it.  She learned it when my oldest son's birthday came around a few months later and she asked where we were going (like as if we could go anywhere but Alpine End) and I said "Nowhere.  Remember?  I told you we aren't doing that anymore.  Not with you."  The look on her face was worth a billion emeralds wrapped in gold and diamonds.  That same look had spread across her face when I turned 18 and she asked if I was going to have a birthday party at the house and I said "Are you kidding me?  I will never have another birthday party at home after what happened last time."  The last time was a month prior when I had a prom weekend cookout at the house, and my parents were wasted drunk and my father tried to punch me in the face in front of all my friends (among so much more, which I write about in my memoir, which will be out soon).  So my 18th birthday was spent at a campground instead.  So when I told her this about my son's birthday, just like back when I was 18, she had looked as though she was the one who got punched in the face.  And both times she stomped off like a little baby because she can't handle being called out on her shit (just like when I slapped her back in 2006, after she slapped me first).  

So, we went out without her yesterday to a local Asian fusion restaurant.  And they all loved it.  And now, after writing this?  I wish that had been our plan all along.  But alas, we only did it because there was nothing else to do at that time of day (it was around noon) (though he did want to go out for dinner, and we had planned to take my mother with...why??--except when I told her this before we left, she said she'd refuse to go to an Asian restaurant, even though it was closer than Alpine End).  But after going with my hubby and kids and seeing my panic attack hand come back with a vengeance, I am SOOOOO glad we didn't take her with.  Goodness knows what she would have said to me and what kind of damage that could have done to my stupid anxiety.  

Ever since moving in with her back in 2020, all of my childhood triggers have come back.  Living with her abuse, mixed with living a house that looks almost identical to my childhood home made things very, very hard for me.  It got to the point in 2020 that I couldn't eat dinner at all anymore, all because of her.  Then she had surgery later in the years and was gone for almost 6 months (I think?) in a rehab and when she came back is when I started having her eat alone at 5pm (and we ate at 7 or 8).  And I stopped eating at the dinner table and ate in my room, which made me feel immensely better.  I had to take back my power in order to survive.  

But this didn't feel like I had my power back at all.  Sitting there, at the table yesterday in public, trying not to throw up, I hadn't felt like that in at least 5 years.  But, I can't see this as a setback, to say "That's it, I can't eat out anymore".  I will try again, slowly, in a place I feel comfortable (like Culvers--we went there a lot back in the day that's how I learned to be okay eating in public).  And I know this isn't "it", unlike in the past, I thought I'd be like that forever.  I know this is just a hiccup.  Use it or lose it, and I haven't been using it for two years.  So, I have to get back into practice again.  

Also, I am going to talk to my son tomorrow about it, and ask him if it made him feel bad that happened.  I want him to know that I still had fun, even though I didn't eat.  And I want to make it up to him on Tuesday when we go out to the arcade.  Because I love him so much and his happiness is worth more to me than most things on this earth.  As are the happinesses of my other son and my husband.  I am not my mother.  I refuse to make someone else's birthday be about me.  My mother tried to make it be about her yesterday.  And instead, she got leftovers, alone, at the table.  Just like everyday.  She makes holidays horrible.  Birthdays horrible.  Just life in general horrible.  And I still feel guilty not including her, but why?  Because I am a real human, with real human feelings, and I have the ability to care about other people's feelings, too.  Unlike her.  But I am still glad she didn't get to participate.  Because she'd have made it all about her, as usual.  


By the way, I made maple cheesecake with a chocolate-chip pumpkin bread "crust" for his cake.  He LOVES cheesecake, so I found a great recipe.  Here it is: 







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Living life with with a narcissistic parent is one of the hardest things a child can do. Because narcissism doesn't stop with mom and dad, it usually bleeds through the entire extended family dymanic. And the abuse travels with us into adulthood, usually either until the narcissist dies or we go no contact. And usually, our abuse is never talked about, for fear of retaliation or judgment. So I am breaking my silence and showing the world what my mother's abuse looks like so maybe others will feel strong enough to do the same.

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Welcome to Girl Lost.


I am a daughter of a narcissistic mother, one of way too many in this world. If you're here, then you have one too. I hope by reading my words someone out there will realize they aren't alone.

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