Thursday, April 26, 2012

Shredding Party




You know that saying about poker? "If after the first twenty minutes you don't know who the sucker is at the table, it's you."
That's me.
The no hold's barred style I now use to blast my mother is new to me. I would have never talked about her like this in the past. But to find out I was never spared from that mouth of hers was a surprise. I thought the bitch liked me.
Well, fuck her.
My sister and I didn't sugar coat the way she is. Not to each other. We lived with the bitch and knew the harsh reality of her and we knew the truth. Telling others would only get us the John Belushi stink eye and we got enough of that at home.
I told women. I felt I had to. If we were closing in on some kind of relationship. But I kept it to a nuts and bolts accounting of her misdeeds. There's a fine line between disclosure and  having people think you are cut from the same loonistic, babble ass, shit-cloth as her.
If I had known how infinitely crazy this bitch really was, I would have never brought any one over to meet her.
Ever.
No one.
But I was clueless. She ran every one else through a wood chipper when they were out of the room. Why did I think I was exempt?
I think back on all kinds of things people said to me over the years. The really off the wall things that cropped up after someone met my mother. It makes total sense today. Knowing she had told them god only knows what about me. I can malign my own reputation well enough with no help from her.
She trashed us all. And did an excellent job of playing the ends against the middle. It's the only thing she does well.
I'll never forget that smirk of hers. That smirk she gets  as she pops the clutch into narcissistic rage and waits for that dumbfounded look creeping across someone's face when they finally understand what a crazy ass bitch she is.
 Me telling her to fuck off on the phone will have to do. She didn't get to see me when I connected the dots and made it full circle.
That mouth of hers can make a train take a dirt road.
And I never have to hear it again.












8 comments:

Anonymous said...

Oh my... I just came to the same realization about my own mother. I've known for sometime is a narcissist, but for some reason, I didn't understand what a liar she is, and how much she maligned me and my husband and my kids... her own grandchildren... to relatives, until a situation blew up and a few sympathetic relatives filled me in. I appreciated hearing the truth, but had to wonder... where the hell were you YEARS ago? So much made sense after learning the truth (ironically.) And you know what's rich? She drilled into my head that I MUST BE HONEST OR HELL WILL PAY. And so I am honest to a fault. How convenient is that? She can be a liar, totally pull one over on me without a moment's hesitation, all the while secure in the knowledge at how thoroughly I was trained to always tell the bald honest truth, even when some honey-coating might be best for all, so that she would never stand a change of not knowing.

And your comment on that smirk? That super resonated. I don't have ONE photo of her in which she's smiling... every attempt at a smile is a smirk. Every memory I have of her smiling is actually of her smirking. And here's super creepy... I have a photo of my brother (also a super narcissist; he is so much like her it is scary) when he was two. He has a genuine, cute, little kid smile that elicits warmth. Next photo I have... he's four. And smirking. Just. Like. Her.

Anyway, thanks for sharing.

q1605 said...

No...thank you.
They take "do as I say, not as I do" to astronomical levels. I might could have lived with that.
If they were the kind of person that cops to being an asshole.
My mother acted so deferential and polite while she was stabbing you in the back. And she puts on a piss poor act.
I think we think that thing about even lies having that grain of truth to them. Like when they are lying about every one you sort of swallow it whole. Because for all you know it's true. And even if they stretch the truth you figure it's based on some kind of truth.

I didn't have a lot of contact with my Nmother from the age of 15 until I was 50. Then lived with her after she had a stroke. It took about two weeks until I sat back and said this chick is just a lying sack of shit. She makes up things about others that CAN"T be true. Then you find out they have always done the same thing to you.
They're the suckers. They'll end up dying alone. You want a mother. You want to be there for them. But to be there is to sacrifice everything that is good in your life.

Anonymous said...

"She drilled into my head that I MUST BE HONEST OR HELL WILL PAY.".....

wow, this is so true! As a kid you realize if you get caught in even one tiny lie you're dead. But they lie with every breath they take.

Sis

vicariousrising said...

Awesome post.

I too never spoke poorly of my mother until more recently, although I had bouts with speaking the truth in the past 12 years or so. But I never fully embraced her complete lunacy until my last run through with her last year.

I remember my first therapy session where I told the shrink that "my family is perfect -- I'm the messed up one. Can you help straighten me out?" and I got mad when the shrink kept prodding me about my family. Ah, the stupid old days...

Anonymous said...

I just realized she is crazy. I'd said so for a long time, but it just sunk in that she.is.crazy. Therefore there is no we can understand because we.are.not.crazy.

Sis

q1605 said...

I. am. not. crazy. I just play an insane person on my blog.

Anonymous said...

All programming done to us by crazy people needs to be tossed out like old leftovers in the fridge.
You can't trust anything they ever said.


Sis

q1605 said...

Yuuuuuup!