When "Mom" is an unrepentant asshole

Lately, I've been engaged in a lot of soul searching. I guess as I get older, the need to understand others and mostly, myself, is becoming more important. It's necessary for my healing to understand why I did what I did...why I reacted the way I did..why I took certain paths in my life. It's pretty annoying that I'm 40 and still trying to figure life out. Although I have a lot of wisdom, much of my own life has been somewhat of a mindfuck. Trying to work through the guilt and anger and grief is a long process.
I resent that there are those who tell people to just "get over it...". That is such a callous and rude thing to say. I'll present my own rudeness "Fuck off here, there and off the end of a pier..."
I discussed in my last post about attracting narcissists. When a person didn't get enough love, hugs, validation, nurturing, acceptance in their formative years..the need stays and that person will most likely continue to seek it in some way. And if they are anything like me, they will seek relationships that they can subconsciously use to work out unresolved past ones.
It is what it is. It sucks. Understanding what is happening goes a long way towards healing.

In my life I have gotten very close to people I should have been wary of. 
If I'd have known anything about predatorial and narcissistic personalities, I would have recognized the initial stirrings of trouble. I'd have went running, not looking back, but instead, I thought the person saw my soul, my kind spirit, the love I had for others. Finally, another person who not only liked me, but loved and accepted me too. This was such a burst of awesome that I became high on happy chemicals being released from my brain. I loved being loved, because it was so rare. The problem with that "love" thing, is that although it mimicked genuine love that I'd known, it was anything but. This treachury is brought to us by people who love themselves and those same people just adore the willing victim who just needs a damn hug. Instead of treating that person the same as a cherished loved one, they see the potential victim as a scapegoat, toy, servant. You become something they can manipulate and play with.
It takes one sick motherfucker to do that shit to others. Sadly, they will never see their own narcissism and will most likely project onto you their own wrongdoings and insecurities. If you ever tell them how you really feel, they will either ignore you, attack you, passive aggressively irritate you, slander you, and make you question your own damn feelings so that you feel like an unstable nutcase. Over and over, it's your damn fault for being too damn sensitive or paranoid or my personal favorite, acting like a victim.

:/

I've had several unfortunate interactions with narcissists. From the guy who killed my mom, to at least two family members on my mom's side, to my adopted Dad/Uncle, to my adopted mom to at least 2 very close friends, two boyfriends and my ex-husband.

What the fuck?
Some of them I chose..but a few of them I couldn't. For whatever reason, I was stuck with them for a period of time that affected the way I percieved the world. Even now, after being influenced by a string of unrepentant dillholes, I have to run down a process in my brain. I have to first consider the situation, and ask myself..is this situation what it appears? Am I overreacting? Does this person have a history of being a jerk to me? Is this about me or something else? Am I making this all about me? Does this situation in any way reflect on me, and if it does, do I need to do some internal adjusting and reevaluation?
I run through these questions frequently because I try very hard to be sensitive to others. When speaking, it's important to be factual, and logical. Removing emotions is sometimes necessary, because emotions and words do have an effect on others. Because I was exposed to self-serving adults, my relationship with my daughter has been more cerebral than any other relationship in my life. My daughter is my life and passion, but I want her to be herself. I don't want her to be conforming for me, or influenced by what I never had. She shouldn't feel guilty for being young, or doing things for herself. She shouldn't feel compelled to take care of me, and she shouldn't feel bad for living far away. Guilt is the last thing I ever want to put on my kid, and I never want her to feel like she should be kissing my feet because I didn't abort her. As much as I cannot stand her father, I tried very hard when she was growing up to not speak ill of him..and told her good things about him. She is a part of him and vise versa, so even though he screwed me over a lot, and her too when she was little, I never told her any of it until she was almost an adult, and then it was just matter of fact, and only what she needed to know.
I let her decided how she felt about him, because her relationship with him is separate from hers with me, and I never wanted her to resent me for talking about him. In my heart, the right thing, with regards to him, was especially hard, because it didn't seem he had the same intentions. Still, everyone has faults, and it's not my place to judge his entire life.
Horrible and stupid mistakes were not an anomaly for me when it came to raising Jackie. I had no idea how to be a good parent and had to read books upon books. I spoke to old folks and seasoned parents. Jackie's needs were sometimes different than other kids, so I took an individual approach with her, and tailored our life and rules to her needs and boundaries. Sometimes people didn't agree with how I raised her, but I knew what she needed most of the time, and I went with my gut. She turned out pretty well.
My only regret is that I didn't bolster her confidence more. It was an uphill battle because she was teased so much from kindergarden on. Still, it was important to talk about what she did well. Single parenting was a son of a bitch. It was super hard to work, take care of a child and home. I did the best I could, I feel, at the time. Could I have done better? Sure, a lot better! Unfortunately, wisdom comes in pieces and snippets. There's things I know now that sure would've helped when she was a kid, but she has somehow managed to snatch up the good from both her parents and discarded what she didn't need. That, I'm proud of. She's a little survivor.

What really helped me was remembering my childhood, and knowing what it was like to be young. My talks with Jackie were pretty blunt and honest. Too many adults lied to me or treated me like a slobbering embicile growing up. They taught me all these rules..and never told me why I had to follow them. Worse, they didn't trust me to follow the rules, and I found it to be true that nothing was worse for a young woman than all the conflicting messages they get. So when Jackie asked me a question, I tried to answer it honestly. Of course, sometimes I didn't know the answer, and I told her that too.
 Growing up with a mom who has PTSD is horrible. It was all she knew. Our lives had beautiful moments, but there were some tough ones too. She slept in my bed until she was 12 or 13, and we had an uncanny closeness. We could bicker just as fiercely as we loved each other, but that was us. Her spirit was too strong for me to want to squash it. I didn't want her to be afraid of me. She needed to know she could be angry, but I wouldn't tolerate disrespect. It just felt to me like I was being the mom to her that I always wanted.
Times came that I was so weak, so exhausted, sick and depressed that she worried about me. I feel horrible about that. And because it was just her and I, she was taught how to cook, clean and do laundry at a young age. I couldn't do it all alone, and she actually did very well at helping out. Yes, we were both kind of sloppy at times, and we had our lazy days. Did I do it right all the time? No. I tried to though. I remember crying because I felt like it was an uphill battle, raising a daughter. You want her to be strong, and not bend..and yet you want her to listen to you and respect you. It really was a very delicate balance, and sometimes I fell of the deep end.

When I think about how I parented my daughter, and I compare it to how I was parented, I get pissed. No lie. My own mom, who was amazing..died when I was seven. My mom's sister Aunt Rachel took custody after getting married to a guy named Derwin. Rachel was my favorite Aunt, and it did take a huge dent out of losing my mom. When I was 12, Rachel died of a cerebrahl hemmorage. It was devastating.
My mom's family felt we were well taken care of, and that Derwin had better resources to raise us. They couldn't have known what we would endure the next three years, but I do not hold it against them at all. He is another story for another time.

From the ages of 15 to 17, I think I lived in three different homes, and spent a lot of time bouncing after that from the houses of all my friends. Eventually I became a ward of the state. I wanted to go to school at McCluer North, and needed to live out there, and my friends lived there. So it came down to two mother of my friends. One mom's name was Peony, and she was a delicate, classic beauty and a mortician. The other mother, Pansy, was a mom who wore mom jeans, smelled like mom's smell and really tried hard to be the fun mom.
Guess which mom I went with? The mom who love bombed me with shopping trips, road trips, loads of attention and compliments, hugs, gifts. If I would have been aware, love bombing is a warning sign. Right next to it should have been a sign that said "All of this is BS" because it was. Pansy had started a very subtle campaign to demonstrate why I should live with her and my girlfriend Peggy. She even said in a very nice way that Peony wasn't a very approachable or warm person and that she felt sorry for Lilly.
In my own mind, since I couldn't trust my own judgement or opinions, I sucked up, like a thirsty cactus, every action and word from Peggy.
She went to court and got custody of me. I was 17, and I finally had a home again. Only, it was not a home. Sure it was for Peggy. Peggy was a surly one, but also a fun person, and I loved her dearly. It was a blessing to have a best friend turn into a sister.
I had a home. I had my high school sweetheart nearby. Lilly, boyfriend, Peggy and I were a foursome and were together all the time, for about three years. Pansy was the cool mom who let us responsibly drink alcohol, and spend the nights with our boyfriends. She was realistic about our teen lives. Somewhere along the line, she actually crossed the line by about 50 miles.
I think the turning point for me was when she took boyfriends side when Lilly and boyfriend decided to have sex with each other. And when confronted, they both turned on me, and I had to at that moment, eject both of them from my life, but not before calling them horrible names. And as much as they both denied the sex but admitted sneaking around, they wasted no time pairing up immediately after he and I split up. Pansy, never one to alienate her "kids" told me over and over I'd just have to deal with them being together. I had to sit at a Reba McEntire concert a month after we broke up, watching them make out in front of me. A month and a half after we broke up, she invited boyfriend and Lilly to our house for Christmas. I tearfully asked her why she would do that, and she told me if I couldn't be civil, I could spend Christmas in my room.

Pansy later told me that Lilly had been close to Peggy for years, and that she was like a daughter to her. When I brought up that I was actually her daughter now, she told me that it really didn't matter. After that, I found out that Pansy was going out to eat with boyfriend and Lilly and Peggy, and not telling me..and even after I left home, she was hanging out with boyfriend alone..and drinking.

I was so lost, I had to make new friends. I had finally chosen to trust an adult completely, and she had shattered my trust. She had turned on me, and as I was coming to find out..was pissed that I was angry with her. She had started telling bald-faced lies to people in our family and people we knew. I was never surprised anymore when a new rumor came my way. I should have told them she had dementia, but I didn't have the heart.

I sought friend and I found them. I found acceptance in the gay community, which was amazing, but I also found trouble. That trouble led me down a dark path that could have ended only one way.
Of course, she never let me forget how I acted when I found trouble and alcohol. She never let me forget that I stayed up all night, slept all day and dropped out of college. In my own defense, the very shaky bottom had dropped out of my life and I was a fucking mess, but when I tried to explain myself, she made it all about her. Sure, she was entitled to her feelings, but she had dismissed mine for so long, any love I had for her was ebbing away.

For me..a remarkably painful memory is coming home from boot camp to find out that mysteriously, my box of most precious items had been irrepably damaged and she had thrown everything out. A little part of me died when I discovered that she had not waited to let me go through the box, because of a possible mold issue.
When I walked over to the wall where the box had been stored in the rafters of the garage, all the same boxes were there. Only mine was gone. When I mentioned to Pansy's mom that I had been told about the leak in the garage..she said..what are you talking about? And you know..when she brought it up to Pansy, it was deflected and the subject was changed.

In that box were letters from my Aunt Rachel, gifts from my Aunt Rachel. There were items that belonged to my mom..and things I could never, ever replace. And I knew in my heart that there was never a garage leak, she just wanted to get me back for not kissing her ass. For leaving her and joining the Navy without her "assistance". For not inviting her to my wedding.
Later, she exaggerated either my moods, depression or attitude in order to build a consensus that I was mentally unstable and unreliable. She told people I was a lazy mother or terrible housekeeper. It was sad, because my husband had left me after humping every hole in Jacksonville, but she sided with him, and called him on the phone frequently. She wrote him letters and sent him pictures.

My adopted mom is a chronic shop-lifter, which is why I put a stop to going to stores with her. Shopping is her favorite pasttime, so when I not only refused to be a lookout, but quit going, she got pissed.
My adopted mom is a kleptomaniac. Every restaraunt we went into, she stole something off the table. It was so embarassing, so I quit going out to eat with her.
My adopted mom is a hypochondriac, and nothing you ever say will me more important than her 800 mile long list of ailments. If you complain about anything, she will top you.
My adopted mom is a racist, and yet she is the most bitter, ignorant person I have ever met. She pretends to like Black people, yet hates it when they act..um..shall we say.."assertive". If they aren't acting like genteel help on the plantation, she resents it. You will see that when you are out with her and she makes comments about them.
My adopted mom is shallow. She talks about people, especially their weight. She is very rude and judgemental, but never to their fact. She finds a feature that is nice..and she talks about it, but later she will say something negative.
My adopted mom is a recovering alcoholic. She drank herself into a drunken stupor many times when she was younger, and had relationships with married men and other men who treated her like shit. Her daughter ended up taking care of her on hangover days.
But adopted mom would never let me live down any of what I did.
Adopted mom talks about everybody she knows in a negative way, and rarely has anything nice to say about them. Every single person in her family but one has been the topic of nasty gossip, and yet I never said a word.

Why have I kept quiet all these years? Well, in the Bible it says to honor your father and mother. Well, truthfully, my beloved Mother is dead in the ground, and I miss her. She was a MOM in every sense. Getting custody of me for a year and expecting me to put up with bullshit for the rest of my life was not in my agenda.
I have never told people what she was about, because I felt bad. That and I knew she'd already started a smear campaign against me 20 years ago and they probably believed her, because she is charming and persuasive. She smiles a lot, but she has fangs, and her smile hardly ever reaches her eyes.
My adopted mom was rarely around, because I got tired of letting down my guard only for her to insult me or treat me like crap. If she wasn't lying about me, she was guilting me into spending time with her, only for her to ignore me completely. Or, she was wanting to spend all our time together gossiping, or having me do things for her...but not asking me how my life was going. And if she asked, I barely got anything out before she hijacked an hour or two talking about her health, and reminding me of how I ignored her or mistreated her.
As far as my relationships, she has infiltrated most of them, and I should be sad about that, but I'm not..because if those relationships were solid, that person would have been smarter, or at least alert after I told them how she was. The things is with her..you may not like her, but somehow you become compelled to want her to like you. Because when she first pays attention to you, you feel really special! And she gives you so much love right away..and expects you to reciprocate that right away..and if you don't she pouts and doesn't want anything to do with you.
Beware a person who tries to force a bond upon you before you are ready. This is happening so it will be too late for you to back out when you discover that the other party is an asshole, shitty human being or someone who too has issues.

I learned, in all of this, that I needed to learn to nurture myself. Some parents shouldn't be parents. Some parents are assholes, neglectful douchebags, narcissts. And some parents, like me..had some issues that needed to be resolved so they could be better parents than they had.
When mom is an unrepentant asshole, you will need to find ways to love yourself. You will need to dig deep for strength, and be aware of manipulation and other tools used to turn your trust into a sword that gets turned against you.
I hope for all the daughters out there who have mothers without a conscience find healing too. I fucking hate Mother's Day, in a way.
My own mom is dead and the mom I had is someone I haven't talked to for two years.
May you too, find your answers.