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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 664821" data-attributes="member: 17461">Ack!  I never even thought of this.  It just seemed so slimy a thing to think and say and kind of ~ celebrate or relish.  Of course that is what she was doing.  Whenever I am confronted with one of those things I cannot find a reason for ~ when I cannot see the win in what they do or sometimes, make any sense of it at all, I have just been telling myself why doesn't matter.  It is what it is and so on.  But of course you are right, Serenity.That was my mom, loving herself, right?  Like setting herself up as a little emperor, a bare naked, demanding one.Ew.She is still pretty scary to me on some level.  The difference now is that I hear the fear chords clearly.  It's a strange thing.  I remember my mom saying that so clearly.  I can picture everything about it.So, that must have been traumatic.I would not remember it the way I do otherwise.A smugness there, about the jealousy between my sister and I over her.  I suppose she was telling me then that the war was on, that she'd created the imbalance and I would soon fall.And I have.There is still some sadness about my sister.I remember feeling so offended.  As though I'd been accused of behaving like an idiot.  That is what she was doing.  Naming me something less than I am.  And for heaven's sake she was at my house. Eating my food.  Probably as the guest of honor.Know what I am going to do about that?Start channeling my inner Donald Trump.<img src="/community/styles/default/xenforo/smilies/2012/mcsmiley1.gif"  class="smilie" loading="lazy" alt=":mcsmiley1:" title="mcsmiley1    :mcsmiley1:" data-shortname=":mcsmiley1:" />I think it was during the visit from our down South neighbor.  She was flirting outrageously with him too, but I never took it seriously.She was always trying to get him to go see her house, when she would be here for dinner while he was visiting.  He was flirting back.  He had met my mother for the first time while his wife was still alive.  He would bring my mother like, an orchid that he'd picked, and they would talk about their date.So, that was a serious flirtation, then.We knew the man's wife was dying.The things my mother does are so ugly.  No wonder I don't want to see them.  D H saw.  He was furious that I'd invited her, and disgusted that she was here and he said as much to her face.And she was embarrassed.  And after she left?  He got in trouble for it.Well for heaven's sake.  How could I be expected to see something that ugly in my own mother.When I brought her to my Tai Chi class?  She left early and waited in the car with her legs out and the door open.She looked pretty cute.  I told her so.  She said:  "The legs are the last things to go."I don't know whether that is cute or a wrong thing.But there are times I think my mom is outrageously cute.My mom named my paternal grandmother with a mental illness.  She would spit those words out routinely.  She named my sister with the same illness to each of her husbands and both of her daughters ~ and to me, of course.  But apparently that's all cleared up, now.:O)Your sister is naming you as she does for the same reason.  She is being hateful.  As long as our sisters (or, for me, my mom or, for you, your dad) are being hateful, there is only one thing we can do:  Stop Listening.  Label the thing hateful and stop listening.  We are buying into the game every time that we cheat, and every time that we listen to the terrible things they say.Now, what in the world is the matter with me that I don't get that.Even when I look back on things, I never even suspect the rottenness in it.  If I poke around in there a little bit?There it is.roarWell.  I do, now.  From now on?  I am going to suspect rottenness in something so simple as "Hello."***I think part of the reason we cheat, when we do cheat, is to see whether we will be as hurt this time by the things they say.  By the way they insist others see us.  That is the horrible thing about dysfunctional families of origin.  They do label their black sheep.  (In my family, those are changeable, at the mother's discretion.  Except maybe, that isn't true.  Maybe you've been right all along Serenity, and I was the black sheep.)  You know, here is a true thing.  My sister was forever coming to my house with her kids, everybody crying about something my mom had said.  They would spend some time with us.  (Except for D H, fuming in the background while I listened to my sister, and to the kids, cry.  Then, he would be so mad about Happy Hour having been ruined.  Again.  And he would be in trouble. Again.)  And then back they would go to my mom's.  There is much hatred in my mother.  That could explain it.  She would like to hurt people who have nowhere to go.  As long as I was in the picture, there was always somewhere for them to go.  There was always someone they could tell.  Now, there isn't.  So, I feel responsible for that in a way.  But they have all been poops.  So, they can figure everything out on their own.  I am sure they will be fine.  Except that I think they will not be fine.  Circle; a place where I feel I should be there.  My sister said, on that last conversation I had with her, that my mother had changed.  I told her that would be the second time.  My mother was supposed to have changed when my father died.)  So...here's what I know about that, then.They do ostracize.They do want to exclude, and they want the excluded ones to feel hurt. And confused.  And alone.In the sense that the intention to hurt is a decision taken in advance of whatever the action is.How could I have never seen this.And it does hurt.I don't know that our FOO will be able to hurt us again as they have in the past.  We were always wondering how it could be that everything had fallen apart again.  Now we know there was never the smallest chance this was going to work, that we would all come together for dinner, those poops.I did have dinner at my sister's house once, which was moderately all right.  The husband's whole family was there.  Lots of women.Beautiful kitchen.:O)Which doesn't explain why my sister went through my luggage and then, told me she had done so.Where was my Donald Trump, then.I'm sure all kinds of terrible things happened then, too.  I just don't remember them.So here is the question:  Well, there is no question.  I was correct."I love you too much to love you this way."But sometimes?  When I think about these things?  I feel lonely.I do.TEN YEARS LATER.Good for you, Serenity.  The very things your FOO tries to shame you with now were times when you stood up, straight and tall and strong, to a hateful woman determined to destroy you, determined to make you a fearful, shamed little thing who could never recover...even after she was gone.***So was mine.  I just never knew how those nasty toxic threads were woven in and pulled tight, before.  It makes my head spin, to think about it.  Before, it was always "That's just how mom is."Every really defeatist, bad thing she did, every time she was angry (like the time she tried to dig out the hostas with her bare hands)."That's just how mom is."Funny how I think I know what happened and then, boom.  Another whole level unravels.<img src="/community/styles/default/xenforo/smilies/2012/mcsmiley1.gif"  class="smilie" loading="lazy" alt=":mcsmiley1:" title="mcsmiley1    :mcsmiley1:" data-shortname=":mcsmiley1:" />Isn't that something.Good for me too, then.  It really is such an ugly story.At least I have changed the lenses from rose colored to clear.Man, it's ugly though.Oh, well.  That's alright.  I'm pretty cute, still.  I have lots of very nice things in my life.  (Lil and Jabber's Monty Python thread:  "We already got one.  Oh, yes ~ it's very nice."):O)Yah.  And it isn't like those things were done accidentally.  We know that now.  We don't exactly know why.  It just is what it is.  But what also is what it is is that "We already got one.  Oh, yes.  It's very nice."I'm going to watch that clip again.Especially the part about how, when the English lay siege to the French castle, they throw what they throw on the King as he climbs the stairs.  As though he has a right to take the castle.What they pour on the King then is worse than the other things ~ just whatever came to hand ~ the French had thrown, before.By that time, the French are taking the English king seriously.  Or perhaps, that is why they could be so casually insulting from the beginning, from the English king's first approach.They knew what they could do to him, if he persisted.That is how I am going to look at this.The only way they can come in again is if I forget who I am.Now my face for them is a Donald Trump face.Very much like "P*** off, unless it's to my advantage."That is going to be me.That seems to be a pattern in roaringly dysfunctional families.  When I feel that head-spinning feeling, I remember:  Mothers who deserve the title do not abuse their kids with malice aforethought.That puts things back into perspective for me.Abusers abuse because they abuse.  And they never, ever, stop.  Reaching out from the grave, they continue creating family dissension after their deaths.What is the matter with these people.What confrontation, or what kindness, would ever have worked, with them.So, what if we think of it this way:  That's why.  That's the why behind all of this.  Whether we knew and confronted the abusive mother, like you did, or whether we were goofy enough to believe no one meant to be mean ~ that it wasn't what it looked like and we could all come through it somehow...that is why we were targeted by the abuser, who is seeking only to be The Emperor no one dares tell that she has no clothes.You were right up front about the Emperor's naked.  I was like, "Oh, look!  You forgot your clothes."  But in both cases, it was the cruel, bare naked Emperor's grandiose narcissism everyone danced around.Boy.  I am just pumping out hatred this morning.I must be healing another layer.Well, what she said was that she wanted it there where she could see it as she dressed or bathed.  I think our sisters are as confused about everything as we are.  I think the pseudo mom role plays into this.  I think my sister did see me as someone...as like, shelter from the storm, right?  I do love her.  I really do feel protective of her.  I just think she was manipulating what could be manipulated, and trying to do the best she knew.  But I also think there has been a big change since my mother has been staying with her in the winter.  There was a big change when my father became ill.A huge change, when he died.But she hurt my child.  After she had been beat and was so out of control, my sister did that thing.  (Daughter is not me.  That was a mistake on sister's part.  Once daughter was...was feeling better she took revenge without batting an eye.  An she did it perfectly and then, took the post down once she knew her aunt had seen it publicly displayed like that.  And daughter was scared to tell me what she had done.  And so relieved when I told her that was perfect.)My sister should not have done what she did.After all the things I know about my sister, and about my mom and about me?  That is the one that stands out.  My daughter, crying that sister had turned away.I don't even need Donald, for this one.Or Monty Python.In a way Serenity, it is like what happened when you realized who your mother was.  When she went behind your back to get son's Social Security number from him and then, accused your son of lying.Snip.You know, if that had been me?  I would have said, "Well honey, I'm sorry that happened.  But that's just how Grandma is."What a wuss.But you stood right up, Serenity.  It gets all confusing when the badness just keeps getting more twisted in our FOO?  But you did the right thing.  You were stronger and more courageous than me.But I am strong now, too.<img src="/community/styles/default/xenforo/smilies/2012/mcsmiley1.gif"  class="smilie" loading="lazy" alt=":mcsmiley1:" title="mcsmiley1    :mcsmiley1:" data-shortname=":mcsmiley1:" />You know what?  This is true.  Whatever the accomplishment.  Even if it isn't something as cool as having your work published.  Remember my posting about D H telling me, over and over again, that my own mother and my own sister resented any good thing that I had and wished me ill?He was right.  Again.  After all.I just keep going back to that Circle of Thorns thing my sister prayed against me.No one does things like that.That is a very bad thing for someone to do.  (I can feel the outraged Child.  See how the language changes?  I like that.  That she is there now, I mean, and having a look at things that were so troubling for so long.)And we never even knew it!Well, huh.Yes.Mine too then, I suppose.  Time to channel my Donald Trump.Every time, with my sister and my mother.Every time.We need to be able to meet our own eyes in the mirror.I understand.Cedar</blockquote>

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