Friday, June 22, 2012

I haven't written in a long time. I know that. Truth is, I've been busy, and happy, and living. To a certain extent. There's so much to talk about but I am going to focus on one thing. The thing that is really eating at me.

Unless your relationship with a parent is as strained as mine, you don't get the right to judge me. Or to offer advice. You can simply read this, or not. I am sick of having people tell me "You will regret it." Or, that it's normal. It's not. You don't know what I go through, you don't know my Mom the way I do. Because the truth is, she treats her family different than she does the rest of the world.

I have gone through my life feeling fat, being criticised for my own weight fluctuations, and in turn when I mention it bothers me, being told that "I didn't mean it that way." That's the crux of the entire problem. What do you do when the entire dialogue of a relationship "isn't meant that way?" I am sick and tired of having to pick up a decoder ring to know what the hell my Mom really means by something she says. I stopped keeping track of all the hurtful things. I claim a terrible memory, but it is truthfully that I just don't hold on to it. Why? Because what good does it do me?

I've reached a pivotal moment in my relationship with my Mother. The point where I can no longer justify a continued feeling of bristled feathers. It's more than just what she says. Since I was born, she decided to be a stay at home mom. Her limited social interactions, mixed with her less than perfect childhood have left her without the basic understanding of what is socially appropriate. It rears it's ugly head more times than it doesn't. Sometimes it's funny. Sometimes I make it funny. Sometimes it's just plain devastating.

At what point in the laundry list of things do I have the right to give up? She isn't willing to see/or change how she talks to me. She thinks that if her intentions are pure, her words mean nothing. It truly is as if your Mom handed you the keys to a car and said, "You are a worthless human being, I will make sure to let you know that on a regular basis, but I love you and want you to have this. So, if you take this, I will expect things in return, and I will never forget that I gave you this." That's the thing. She buys us things to let us know she cares, but she can't back those "things" with words of caring.

On paper it doesn't seem so bad. However, in reality it's earth shattering. I have spent my life thinking that love has conditions. If I didn't do well in school I wouldn't be loved. If I got bad grades in college I wasn't good enough, and wasn't worthy of my Mom's love. My own personal goals and dreams were silly, and I needed to do things her way or I wouldn't succeed...So you think why didn't you just break away? She was excellent at instilling the most amazing sense of fear. Seriously. I have so much fear in me of failure, or messing up and being shunned, of not being the right kind of Mom, of getting in trouble for throwing a Calzone at a car because the driver was a complete dickbag driver. I've been crippled by a fear of not knowing if I can function without my Mom.

That's not healthy. Those of you with a good relationship with your Moms, I envy you. I wish that I had what you have. Not all moms are the same. Yet, I feel like those that have lost their Mom, or have good relationships with theirs judge me for the struggle with mine. So, until now, I've held on. I've tried my best to function. To hum along as she blows the wind from my sails. To think that this time it will be different. That the story in my head of how she will act this time will be different that how she really is. That she won't be "tired" and "overwhelmed" and worried about what everyone thinks. The truth is, no matter how much I want that to go away it won't.

This weekend she came to visit. I baked, I cleaned, I got excited. She brought along an old friend, and the first evening here started badly. You see, my Mom is the child of an Alcoholic. Instead of realizing that sucked, moving on, and pushing through, she's held on to it. Along with every other trauma in her life. She never lets go. Of a thing. It's all piled away in her subcortext, waiting to be accessed when I've made some sort of mistake in her mind. Or, when I tell her that she's hurt my feelings, it will always be because of something that happened to her 40 years ago. I am not saying all this just to be a shitty daughter. I am saying this because I've hoped for SO LONG that things would get better. That with enough gentle encouragement, I could help her to get help. To pierce through her need to hold on to all that pain, and break through. To live life without thinking about all the what ifs, to just close your eyes and jump sometimes just because the idea of doing that can be exciting.

So here we are. The weekend fell apart. It shattered, and by the end of it I was so angry, and sad, and hurt. As a few days passed I realized that this is the story of my life, if I let it be. I'm not going to let it be. I told her how I felt. That I was hurt by the things she said, and her immediate reaction was to tell me it was because of her childhood, and a recent event that left her needing time to "recoup." Bullshit. She also told me that she's had to accept me for who I am and I should do the same with her. I have a child. I know lots of mothers. None of them have had to adjust their expectations of what they think their children should be in order to accept or love them. She then apologized, for hurting my feelings. Not for actually saying what she did, or acting the way she acted. She took no responsibility. So, until she stops buying things, and starts owning things, I'm done. Go ahead and think I'm horrible. I don't. If this were a boyfriend or husband, you would be the first one to say to leave him.

Mothers are such a complicated thing. I have struggled for so long with this. I've tried counseling. I've tried to make the interactions funny. I've tried to discuss it. I've tried to explain it. I've tried to change it. I've tried to ignore it. I've tried to not let it get to me. I've tried to understand it. I just can't.

Right now, I am in mourning. I am sad that I can't have the normal relationship that so many of you have had with your Moms. Yes, there are good parts to my relationship, but as with abusive relationships, they aren't always horrible. It's that I can't keep letting my guard down to be completely devastated. To feel my self-esteem slip away. To start picking at myself as a result, getting obsessed with the little parts of me that are flawed.

So, no more Mom posts. No more hating myself.

I am sad, and liberated all at once.

I've had to let go.

Thursday, March 15, 2012

A Little Jessie Spano

What you are thinking: Finally! We've been wondering what the hell happened to you. I almost completely forgot you wrote these things. Not that I actually admit to anyone that I read them. Because people might think less of me for reading about the mundane life of Liz Pukesonpeople Falcor. So, I will continue to secretly read them, and then never mention it to her. That way she will continue to feel like the world's WORST comedian. She doesn't get heckled. She doesn't get laughs, she just gets complete silence. That's why comedians are comedians right? They do it for the silence?

That was thinly veiled attempts at telling you, if you like the crap I write, you should probably mention it to me. I stopped writing because I was pretty sure I was a tree in the forest. If you don't understand that reference, it's the thing about a tree falling in the woods with  no one around to hear it. Does it make a sound? I'm the tree...and you people.....this analogy is bad. I am going to stop.

I do miss writing. However, if you haven't had children yet, you don't get it. Children are like mind terrorists. Except I am paranoid about using that word because I am surely on some watch list just for that one usage. So, instead of the word I just used, I will substituting David Blaine in it's place. Children are like little David Blaines. They are constantly ruining things, and looking for things they can destroy. Then they do things like a little bouncy dance and you are like OMG NO ONE ELSE'S KID COULD POSSIBLY BE THIS CUTE. I AM ABOUT TO EXPLODE. I wonder if David Blaine is cute when he dances.

So let's get you up to date.

I am pregnant.


We are moving.


Chad is breaking up with the Army in 15 days.

For the first time.

We are moving to Charlottesville, VA. We found a nice town home and we will be moving there in 2 weeks. Meanwhile, Chad is still trying to find a different job that doesn't involve a deployment. Why? Because with a baby on the way and a toddler around, the thought of him not being around for 6 months literally makes me fight back vomit and tears. That's a horrible combination.

I remember when I was a freshman in high school there were seniors taking the day off to go to the theater to the the NC 17 movie "Showgirls." That movie was just like a really, really horrible soft core porn. Yea, I've watched it. I actually think it's one of the funniest movies ever made. To be that bad at acting is almost a gift.

Seriously. Why haven't we discussed this more? Showgirls is a movie that needs discussion. I think we've come far enough now. We can talk about it openly.

If I lived in Vegas I would never have a problem trying to poop ever again.

Is Gene Wilder single?

We found a house. Not sure if i mentioned that earlier in the post. The owners we are renting from said that their neighbors on one side are REALLY WEIRD. I can't wait to live there. It's gunna be small, and a little cramped. But, I think it's more baby friendly than the giant landing we have now on the second floor that I lovingly refer to as the baby killer.

I bought Charlie 3 new diapers that are actually named "Charlie Banana."

To the people of Denmark, Russia, and Canada...thank you for reading my blog.

These are my random thoughts when I am about to explode.

Tuesday, January 3, 2012


Politics. I find them annoying. The awkward discussions and pauses while people politely collect themselves. Lame. I know where I fall in my own political views. I don't need Joe Schlomo telling me his/her beliefs. Even if they are the same ones as my own. Maybe I am just crankily pregnant, but I just don't want to hear about it. I can't stand the idea of leaving a news channel on ALL DAY LONG. I would go insane. The same things over and over again, with the new introduction of some angry political commentator every 4 hours. Perhaps that's what has happened over the years, people have indeed, gone insane from watching their news programming all day long. Today I had a conversation like this.
A: It's just how republicans are. Always taking aim at someone, placing judgements people, and not liking anyone that doesn't fit into one of their categories.
Me: Yes. I know. However, I don't see how that has anything to do with our conversation. You know where I fall in the political spectrum, and yet you still continually verbally assault me with information about the other party. We are on the same team. Unless you are planning some sort of cross burning or something, I don't see the need to discuss it. I think you watch the news too much. You are the Democratic version of the Republicans you despise so much.
A: I don't watch that much news any more. I don't like people coming into my house and telling me about their beliefs. Like the guy that was going to paint my house. I didn't call him back. He was too opinionated. I did tell the lady at the meat market he was too opinionated and that's why I didn't use his services. Further more, I don't take kindly to someone saying, "I watch too much neeeeews!"
Me: Forget I said anything. I just don't want to talk about that stuff all the time.

This is a conversation I had today. I think most of you can guess who this conversation took place with. I don't care where you fall in the political spectrum, I just don't like zealots. Political opinions should be like essays. 1,000 words or less, and available for me on my own time.

I am living on Carnation Instant Breakfast, and intermittitent mouthfulls of vomit, and an overwhelming feeling I'm about to poop. I've never seen Lord Of The Rings(because it's about 7 hours long), but I imagine there is a scene in the movie... A scene where the world implodes, and that ring, huge feet, some trees, a tractor, a travel mug, yarn, and a lot of weird movie dust all end up in a tornado vortex that just keeps getting larger filled with more unknown things. That's what I am feeling right now.

3 months until we stop being polite with the Army, and start getting real. The Real World. Hopefully it's not in Fayetteville. However, you can see my sheer lack of want to listen to people rant about ANYTHING political...Unless it's about Herman Cain, because that guy just makes me laugh. OR the fact that the front runner right now has a last name that in "slang" will leave you speechless.

Santorum. Google it. Then forget I told you to.