A few weeks ago, while driving home from work, my parent sent a barrage of text messages lambasting me for not jumping on the Trump-train. While sitting at a red light, I sent my response, which was curt and to the point, “I never attacked you. I just said I don’t like Fox News.”
Well, that unleashed the ugliest part of my parents. I’m LIKE a filthy Democrat. I’m anti-American. I’m filled with hate. It goes on and on.
Just. Because. I. Said. I. Didn’t. Like. Fox. News.
And, that was the last time I spoke to my parents. Its not like they care too much about me anyway. They like to control people, which they cannot do with me. And, instead of being my PARENTS, my mother, most especially, has used the Bible, Church and Fox News as a shield that she stands behind while she throws barbs, insults, and judgments. Usually aimed at me, because how dare I think differently than she.
A few weeks and I’ve heard nothing. Which really is fine. It’s not like they call me. The rule of their house (which I’ve never seen in writing) is, “The kids call the parents. The grandkids call the grandparents. There is no alternative.”
If anyone wants to know why my children do not have a relationship with their grandparents, it is because (mostly) grandma says, “Its MY way or the HIGHWAY” along with “I’m their grandmother, I can tell them what I think when I want to.”
The problem is, in chastising my children (who are 2/3 adults now), she also tells them that I did a terrible job parenting them and it is now her job to fix them. I never made them go to church, so I have condemned their souls to hell. I never forced them to fake-love their grandparents (my word, not theirs), so I am a grandparent-hater. The list goes on and on. And, frankly, I’m done with this. Really, truly done. Their strong-arm tactics are bullying and I don’t respond to bullies.
As a child, they bullied me. When I was bullied in school, I had no one to go to for help. My parents were just as bad as the kids who tormented me for years. When it inconvenienced my parents, my mother was the one to respond. My father told me that it was my fault that kids tormented me and I had to live with it. I was not held when I was sad, not told that I was better than the bullies, and when I contemplated suicide (at ages 10-14), they told me that I was being over-dramatic and to “get over myself.”
As an adult, I have pulled away from them, slowly. I want them to want me to be their daughter so badly that sometimes I get lulled back into the “don’t you love us” garbage. Last year, we went on vacation with them (truthfully, I didn’t want them in my house for a week) and they lambasted us with why we needed to watch Fox News, why Trump is the ONLY candidate worthy of our vote, and how I was not Christian enough. Then, I had to listen to comments about gay people, Mexicans, and Muslims and how we would be a better country without them.
I am an inconvenient truth to them. And, when they moved, they were “free” of me. Far enough to not be tarnished by my lack of Christian-bigotry yet still accessible to shame.
I spoke to a relative on the phone last week (I call, no one calls me) and we were talking about a presentation I saw when he said to me, “Your mother is angry. She can be mean, but she is your mother. You have to make it right.”
My response was, “No, I don’t.”
I’ll tell you why. When I was a child, I was often forced to apologize or make restitution for things that I did not do. I was forced to cower before my mother and when she was done with me, she sent my father after me. I was a good kid who was not allowed an opinion, to develop my own personal beliefs, couldn’t have friends unless she vetted them (i.e. must be from HER church, even tho those kids were mean and most of the time sex-drug-and-alcohol Christians), and often times would not let me do normal things kids my age were doing. I’m not talking Carrie-crazy-mother, but she might as well have been.
Meanwhile, my father hid with work, volunteering, and doing anything possible to spend less time at home with her, and us. Most of my childhood memories are filled with parents fighting, dad threatening to kill us all, and dad beating one of us up or threatening to do so. I was a nervous kid, mostly because I was constantly in the atmosphere of insanity and I had no way to deal with it. Mostly, you never knew when the other shoe would drop. And, that would make the most normal person edgy.
So, fast-forward to a few weeks ago. The bullying parents, who do not care that I have my own opinion, who do not care if I disagree or agree, only want their opinions heard. My relative said, “You have to be the first to apologize.” For what? I did nothing wrong. I did not call her names. I did not tell her she was stupid or a loser or a “filthy Democrat”. I simply said, “I don’t like Fox News.”
My view regarding this situation is this.
I am not apologizing. Every time someone tells me that I have to apologize and “make it right”, it just allows them to keep doing what they want. There are no repercussions. There are no consequences for their actions and behavior. They are like spoiled children who always get their way. I will also not hold my breath for her apology.
This comes on the heels of her alienating my older son because he lives with his girlfriend. Instead of loving her grandson (who was her favorite) and just being supportive, she has told him that she refuses to speak with him until he stops living in sin with that “whore”.
When I confronted her about it, she said, “He is my grandson, I can say what I want.”
“No, you cannot. Especially when it hurts pe…”
“I don’t CARE if it hurts his feelings. I am his grandmother.” *CLICK* (She hung up on me.)
Any conversation is a waste. And, when I defend my son, she yells at me and hangs up while I’m in mid-sentence.
Phone conversations are usually all about her (now adding how FANTASTIC Trump is, which I beg to differ), and her church, and her politics, and how much she hates Muslims, gays and anyone not a Trump supporter. When I try to speak, she says, “I’m done talking to you now” and she hangs up.
So, I’m done. I’ve over this pseudo-relationship with parents who do not like me, do not respect me, and spend most of their time (when I do speak w/ them) chastising, insulting, and berating me.
So my relative can call and make nice (my mother called HIM a filthy Democrat and the reason this country is in the shitter, by the way) all he wants.
“Your mother is angry, bitter, but also can be funny.” Sure, funny. When she tells me “in love” that I’m too fat, too liberal and wasting my life trying to be something I’m not is NOT funny. When she tells her friends about her atheistic fat daughter who is a professor, she isn’t bragging about me. She is insulting me so she looks better. And, this has been my life. When my relative has no understanding how it felt growing up with the two of them… the constant edginess, the powerlessness, the depression, the anxiety. He may have been bullied as a child by my father and physically assaulted, but HE was able to get away from that. I was not so lucky. Neither was my sibling, who was often on the bad side of dad’s temper.
When I meet my parents’ friends, they glow when they speak about how WONDERFUL they are, but all I want to say is, “They are emotional and physical abusers who get their jollies over humiliating and berating their children and grandchildren because it makes them feel bigger and better.”
So, I struggle as an adult. How do I find my way through all of this nonsense to be a better person? My older son moved out two years ago and I barely hear from him. My middle son moved out several months ago and I only hear from him when I text. My youngest son just drives me crazy with his out of control behavior. So, when I lose my shit, everyone is shocked.
There will be no apology. Not from me at least. And, if my relative apologizes in my place, I will cut the last surviving family member who actually likes me out of my life.
And, then my familial loneliness will just continue. Sure, I have cousins. I don’t have relationships w/ them because my parents burned those bridges. So, I muddle through life alone… feeling alone, being alone, just alone alone.
And, that’s how I feel this morning.