I have discovered…

CRAIGSLIST

I never REALIZED how easy it would be to get rid of stuff… a piano, some baby stuff, and toys.  Within FIVE MINUTES of listing the piano, I had this rush of people asking me for it. 

I’m down to one.  I guess driving out to “Homerville,” New Jersey is just too  much for those nearest NYC. 

Not a downer, either.  I’ve had more than 7 people inquire about the piano in less than 12 hours.  One for the baby stuff and no one regarding the toys.  It’s ok, though, because I have the POWA of CRAIGSLIST beneath my fingertips.

Anyway, today I decided to do some laundry and dishes and try like heck to finish that textbook that I despise so well.

I STILL HATE IT… but I’m nearing the end.  Perhaps another 100 pages and I’ll be finished.  100 pages of the MOST boring and drab nonsense… occasionally an interesting historical tidbit… but mostly drab and boring.  I don’t think I’ve ever hated a book as much… well, since my LAST grad class where we had like 5 books (all soft cover and small and the cheapest cost $50)… two of which were comparative essay books that had dual essays for each topic that compared various things: Ghengis Khan’s influence, the Nazis, etc.  Oh my goodness, if I actually were the publisher, I would’ve tanked both books.  Why?  Historical inaccuracies… BIG ONES… misprints… and authors (bless their widdle hearts) who either had NO idea what they were doing, or decided to bypass the publisher’s agenda and write about whatever in the HELL they wanted to write about… Like instead of pro and con regarding Ghengis Khan’s influence in China and the world, one of them wrote about Ghengis Kkan’s childhood.  Close, buuuuuut not really.

I was SUPER careful in choosing my text for the American history classes.  I wish I was given the same courtesy for the Western Civ course.  At SOME point, I need to goto the community college and print out my syllabis.  Perhaps next week. 

My mother called last night, angry and perplexed as to WHY her ex-friend sent her such a nasty email.

I’ll give you ONE hint…

This woman is the person who ENCOURAGED my parents to move to Arizona.  Hell, she even told them where they should look.  When mom decided to pack up and go, we were ALL very shocked.  Over the course of 2 years, their friendship fizzled out, much like how mine and T’s ended… except my mother kept SPEAKING to her.  I just completely cut T out of my life, and Captain Clueless doesn’t understand why.  (Hint: When *I* say, you’re not a good friend to me, it MEANS that you’re NOT a good friend to me.)

So, she goes on and on about how their visit recently (her friend and the new boyfriend came to my parents’ house to see it, and btw, the friend moved back to NJ a year or so ago)… and how her friend was nasty and rude to her, criticizing the decor of the house (duh, it IS hideous), the location (desert living is not for most people), and other things.  SO MY MOTHER SAYS… remember, back in October when my dad was supposedly dying… the weekend of my inlaws’ 50th anniversary party (which I missed because I flew to AZ)… and mysteriously became well (hmm… I suspect they lied to get me to fly there, my husband thinks I’m too suspicious… but *I* know my parents and they can be quite manipulative)… and everything she told me that the doctor said was wrong… misconstrued… misinformed… and misunderstood.  It wasn’t until I got there that the doctor told my dad that he just had some viral thing and was being released to go home, followed by THREE excruciatingly painful days of mom and dad screaming at one another, somehow dragging me in, with a grand finale of “Who do YOU think you’re talking to?  I’m not a piece of shit, DAD!  You better learn how to speak to me or I will NEVER speak to you again,” followed by mumblings of asshole bastard meanie pants.”

My mother HEARS only what she wants to hear.

“Mom, I got a job teaching at a Catholic high school,” I told her a couple years ago.

“Catholic?  CATHOLIC?  Oh PULLLEEEEZZZEEEE!”

“Mom, it’s a job.”

“Catholic? CATHOLIC???  Don’t get me started on Catholics!!”

Or

“I have to get my wisdom teeth pulled, on one side, because one of them broke thanks to Dentist Man Hands.”

“Broke?  Did you break something?”

I can SEE her eyes glazing over when I speak.  Same with my dad.  I can tell them BOTH the same exact thing and this is what I’ll get…

“So, I’ll make slow-cooked pulled pork for when you come here.  Ok?”

Mom: “Sure.”  Two days later: “Should we order pizza?”

Dad: “Sounds fine.”  One day later: “What are you making for us when we get there?”

It’s frustrating.  I want to send them both an identical card telling them to get their minds evaluated.  And a picture of a brain. 

Ugh…

Needless to say, when I relayed the “story” about how this woman (whom my husband used to be neighbors with before we married) and how she scorned my parents in an email, we both shook our heads and my HUSBAND said, “Yeah.  Right.”

In other words… It wouldn’t surprise me IF my parents were rude to her, since all they did was complain and bitch and moan about their visit for DAYS and WEEKS.  And, although it took her friend a few months to muster the courage to confront my parents on their rude behavior, I’m not shocked to learn that my mother fired back a response that was just as rude.

I remember not long ago, my mother’s response to my father’s crazy cousin… who’s gay son and his partner are expecting a baby(ies).  My mother fired off an email that read something you’d see from that crazy church in Kansas that protests soldiers’ funerals…

God hates gays.  You are in sin.  I cannot celebrate sin.

That caused a maelstrom to occur, which in turn dragged me into the middle (OR attempted to) with my cousin and my mother trying to get me on their side.  In the end, I told them BOTH… I’m not getting involved.  I am not taking sides.  You both need to work this out.

Instead, the crazy cousin (is there any other kind) tried to call what’s left of my father’s family, trying to mar my mother (which isn’t hard because after 20+ years of being Born Again, she’s managed to push EVERYONE away)… while my mother countered with doing a little manuevering of her own.

I looked at my husband and said, “If I EVER try that, you have my permission to dump me in the wilderness and leave me for dead.”

Now, my mother’s trying to drag me into this friend-issue.  I’m not having it.

Nope.

Not at all.

 

Now, regarding everyone’s comments regarding cutting myself off from my parents.  I’d like to, but you have to understand something.  I have been indoctrinated into their guilt-and-shame club and as the sole surviving child, I have been guilted-and-shamed into not cutting them off.  I still have this desire to BE a family and crave some sort of relationship with my parents.  I just know that it is a pipe dream and most likely never going to happen.  I have ended a few friendships in the past year or so because they were just plain toxic.  Even those aren’t ending as smoothly as they should, but I refuse to entertain the notion that it’s a rough patch that I’m going through and when I get medicated (as ex-friend T suggested) by a licensed professional, I will think more clearly.

HA! The shrink said I don’t NEED meds.  In fact, he said he’d ONLY prescribe them if I need them, and only very short term.  Like for anxiety and stress. 

Even HE realized, after one visit, that my family is nuts purely because of their ethnic ingredients.  (When he asked if anyone had a mental illness in my family, I said… “Officially?”)

It’s hard dealing with two people who… live in glass houses AND throw stones… in other words, they SEE the bad behavior of other people, but will never own up to their own misgivings, unless it’s the “Everyone sins,” “we’re ALL sinners” crap.  Yes, we are.  And, if you are making ME atone for MY sins, then it may be best that either you both begin to atone or leave me the hell alone and STOP pointing out my faults.

I have plenty.

I also harbor a lot of guilt from my childhood.  Guilt AND shame.  I don’t need a “well-meaning-Christian-mother” pointing out where exactly I need to improve myself.  I don’t.  And, when I do, I get angry.  VERY angry.  And, at times, I do explode.  I feel like I’m in a pressure-cooker sometimes… especially with them around.  Especially lately.

And, my mother’s friend should know by now that you NEVER ever EVER tell them the truth about how you’re feeling.

They make you mad?  You have to avoid the conversation or it’ll turn into this HUGE shit slinging session where you will NOT come out alive.  They have honed their skills… and are good at tearing down people.  Trust me, I’m the only survivor.)

They insult you or hurt your feelings?  My mother may SAY she wants people to be honest with her, but the truth is, she doesn’t.  She doesn’t like to be called out on the mat.  If I ever EVER said, “Mom, I’m hurt because you NEVER left dad,” it would turn into this huge thing.  And, this HUGE thing would result in a nasty email or two, maybe even a nasty letter, the silent treatment followed by a few nasty phone calls, and even a nasty card (she’s big on cards).  Never once would she ever say, “Please tell me more,” or “What else have I done that’s hurt you” because she KNOWS what she did and does not want to be confronted.

I watched Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood today on television.  I cried when I read the book (and Little Altars, the first book) because I could relate in a way.  Mom never beat me with a belt.  She hit us with her hand.  She also had VERY long (and apparently strong like steel) finger nails.  Many a time, I was slapped across the mouth for speaking up (usually for being a smart ass), or scratches across my arm or back from her slapping me.  She laughs about it now.  Hey, it wasn’t funny.

Anyway… it’s going to take me a while to be able to express my emotions properly without falling into a mush pile of tears, snot, and wet tissues.

I’m a strong person.  However, even strong people have a weak spot.  Look, Superman, for as strong and mighty as he was, couldn’t tolerate kryptonite.  Flaws, weaknesses, and frags.

I’m still strong.  I just don’t want to hurt anyone else along the way…