Paralysis Of Thought

Posted by Anonymous.

When she wasn’t where she was supposed to be which was 10 feet to my left, when I had circled around twice, when I retraced my steps once again, when the well-meaning employee who stood by the door assured me that she was still in the building, when I circled around for the fourth time, when I began to realize she was NOT in the building, when I stepped outside, when her older sister began to panic, when I could feel my chest tightening, when I had to send her sister back inside to stand with a nice stranger, when my mind began to think words I would never say in her presence, when I could not see her in front of the building, when I could not see her at the side, when I found her standing next to our car, standing next to our car by herself, outside, down the stairs, along the sidewalk, across the parking lot, ACROSS THE PARKING LOT–BY HERSELF, when I saw her and screamed her name, when I saw the look of fear on her face–first of being alone and then upon hearing the shrillness of my voice of being in trouble, when I swooped her up, when I held her sobbing body in my arms, when I got nose-to-nose with her, when I impressed my fear upon her, when she impressed her fear upon me, when I returned for her sister, when I explained the “lost rules” again, when my throat began to unclinch, when my chest stopped hurting, when I began to be acutely aware of the fact that I was in the presence of a few dozen other moms but I was the mom who had just lost her 3 year-old child, when I calmly took both daughters’ hands in my own untrembling hands, when I crossed the parking lot again and buckled them in, when I pulled out of that parking lot, I did not think about it again.
I did not because I could not. My mind just. would. not. consider: WHAT IF. That is the only reason I was able to keep breathing. I just hope it stays that way, because I could die a thousand emotional deaths if it starts to move again.

Neighbors And Fences

Posted by Anonymous.

I moved into my home 10 years ago. I had an 18 month old daughter & was expecting my second daughter at the time. The neighborhood was still in development at the time. One of the next door families was already here, the other family moved in shortly after we did.

We hit it off with the "First" family the day we moved in. My now late-husband and the First family dad, a firefighter, talked every day, borrowed tools from one another, helped each other with projects. The First family mom has always been easy and fun to talk to.

The First family kids, 5, 9, and 14 were always comfortable visiting and asking for help. They locked themselves out of the house sometimes and sat with me until one of their parents came home. When the daughter missed the bus on her first day of high school the 9 year old spoke up for her, asking if I would mind taking his sister to school. I put my 18 month old in the van and I laughed along with the older kids when I had trouble finding the high school.

Fast forward to October of 2003. My late-husband lost his battle with cancer on a Friday night.

My girls were with my parents at the time. The First family mom and dad stayed with me while I waited for the ambulance, while I waited for my dad and best friend to make the 45 minute drive to my house. The First family mom and dad followed me from the living room to the front porch and back again several times. My dad thanked them for looking out for "his girl." First family mom told him that I was "their girl, too."

We have always had a great relationship, I thought. First family dad took my riding mower to the repair shop a few months ago. He took care of my lawn and the lawns of a few neighbors.

After taking my girls to school a couple of weeks ago I saw First family dad outside. I ran into my house, grabbed the cash I owed him for mowing a couple of days before. He was talking on his cell phone, so I handed him the money and we did the one arm half-hug thing.

A few minutes later he called and asked if I could run over to their house because he wanted to show me something right quick. I thought nothing of it, I have been in their house too many times to count. I followed him through their kitchen and into the living room. We made small talk as we went into his living room. I looked at the Mother's Day cards and family photos on their coffee table. He had looked down at the coffee table, then around the room. I thought they had bought the wide screen TV they have wanted for a while. I was still looking around when I heard him say "OK". When I turned to him, he had his thumbs hooked on either side of his jeans and was pulling them down.

I freaked out and started walking back to the door leading to the garage, waving my hands in the air, chanting "no, no, no,no". As I was leaving the garage, he opened the door and yelled "You're not gonna tell on me, are ya?" I said something profound like "No, no, no, sometimes, um, people's pants, um, just...fall down!" and kept walking.

When I got home checked the locks on my doors, put my gun on my coffee table, and stared at the wall. I called my best friend. I called my aunt. I didn't want to tell my husband but my aunt said I needed to. She drove to my town after work and told my parents and brother for me. They all came to my house and waited while I woke my husband from his after-work nap and told him. Each of them blocked a door when he came out of the bedroom.

My dad talked to a friend of his, a police officer, who sent an officer over to talk to me. I didn't want to press charges because I didn't want first neighbor's wife, two kids still living at home, 6 year old grandson to ever have to know.

Of course first neighbor dad told the officer nothing happened that morning. The situation was even more awkward because the officer is the father of one of my younger daughter's classmates.

I keep bouncing between feeling sad and furious. I am heartbroken because I can never be friends with him again. I am beyond outraged because I had to tell my parents, brother, aunt about what happened. I am livid because I had to tell my 9 and 11 year old daughters to stay away from him and why. I'm embarrassed because I feel stupid. First neighbor dad had made comments to me 3 years ago, saying that since he was home alone on many weekdays and so was I (soon-to-be current husband worked out of town) that perhaps we could "visit and help each other out." I thought he understood the NO I responded with.

I don't feel comfortable leaving my garage door open if my husband is home. I feel like a fake when I respond to First neighbor mom's "Hey, how are ya's." I told my second next-door neighbors because she is home alone during the day.

I'm tired of crying at odd times of the day and night. I hate that someone I trusted did such a crappy thing to me.

Drowning

Posted by Anonymous.

They’re destroying us.. At nine months and 3 yrs, the children are ruining our marriage. I have been patient, thinking it will get better when they’re older, but how do we make it until then?

Nursing has completely killed my sex drive. I used to be the one who lustily drove our lovemaking and now I just don’t care. At all. My husband is actually pawing at me in desperation for the first time in our relationship. I have no interest, and am slowly realizing that my sense of myself as a sexual being and attractive and vital is deeply connected to certain hormones that seem to be on vacation. I am a shell of my former self. Everything is blah. Stop nursing? I could, but I like it for all the reasons women like nursing—the health benefits, the attachment, etc.

The preschooler won’t allow us to have a conversation. STOP TALKING!! He screams whenever my husband and I try to speak to one another. We spend all our time engaging him or disciplining him. Yesterday I spent most of the day with him yelling NO at me, kicking me, or throwing things at the baby. I feel like a closet abuse case.

Both children have always been terrible sleepers and now, to get any sleep at all, my husband and I sleep separately: one of us with each child. So we don’t even get to touch bodies in the night. Change things around? We’ll have to try because even sitting next to him and talking briefly about the day before we turn off the light is the *least* we can do to keep the relationship alive, right? But I’ve been sleep deprived for over three years now and the idea of getting even less sleep to train the kids makes me want to stick pencils in my eyes. I never bargained for how alternating angry, psycho, weepy, and passive sleep deprivation would make me. I hate myself for the way I can feel, then I hate the kids, then I feel guilty.

Sometimes I lay awake at night and a total panic overcomes me: the state in which we live, both physically and mentally is entirely due to the children. And I miss my old life SO much I could cry for days. I love them, but I am overwhelmed, exhausted, and I miss my husband terribly. Please assure me that it gets better. I am drowning in regrets, in guilt, in sadness.

Lost Lesbian

Posted by Anonymous.

20 years ago the passion was there. 20 years ago it was love and sex and fun. 20 years ago...

Today it's "hurry up and get it over with, I'm tired". Today it's "not now". Today it's been 6 months.

Therapy for me? for her? How do I adjust? I don't want to be platonic best friends. I can't talk to anyone about it. I refuse to talk with friends or family that may hold it against her.

It's up to me. I've been the instigator for years and years. I can't take the "no's" It hurts for weeks. I want to love, to make love. I don't want a quick fuck. I want the intimacy. I miss the intimacy.

I try to talk about it- nothing. I try romance-nothing. I try planning ahead, dropping hints for tonight- she gets a headache, stomach ache... that night- nothing. I try surprise attack- nothing. I try a night away from the hustle and bustle- nothing. I try before I go away for a night- nothing. After I've been away- nothing. In celebration, in sorrow, alcohol, early bed, late bed, middle of the night, morning, early morning...

We are best friends. I know she loves me. I know she is faithful. I know she enjoys making love, when we do.

I am at a loss.

What Might Have Been

Posted by Anonymous.

I saw him yesterday. Him, the one that I had such a bad crush on in college. Him, that I hooked up with one night, and kissed far too few times. Him, that said that we couldn't be more than friends.

I wish that, 16 years later, that I didn't still wish he had given us more of a chance. I am very happily married, but I wonder at how he looks at me. I wonder if his wife knows that had I only shaved my legs, I would have screwed her husband that night, and would have enjoyed it. I wonder if she knows that I know just how big he is, and part of me wouldn't care if she did.

I look at her, and I can't help but compare. We are alike, you know. We have the same profession, we're the same height. We have similar hair color. And I wonder how come she got him instead. We were compatible. We have similar interests and values. Seeing him here, now, in a place we share again tells me that. Were you that opposed to my personality? Was I that repulsive? Or do you wonder, too? Do you wish the same things as I? I suppose I'll never know.

I would never voice this. I would never let you know. I know it is wrong for me to think of the passionate love we could have shared, and wonder how it would feel to be her. So I'll keep it my secret, and always wonder...what might have been.

Dear Sonuvabitch

Posted by Anonymous.

Open letter to the sonuvabitch that refuses to pay his child support:

You suck!!!!! It's not fair!! And I wish you a slow and painful death!!!!!

Thank you. Now I can listen to my children mention their father without wanting to scream out what a dick he is. And a dead beat. And a no good, irresponsible, piece of shit that does not deserve to have such sweet children. (Did I mention I hate him?---Oh, you could tell? Well, then, good.)

The end.

Birthday Surprise

Posted by Anonymous.

Yesterday was my birthday, I am 30 years old. I am the high school student who was in forensics and band, never went to parties, and graduated from college with a 4.0 GPA. I have 2 children (ages 6 and 2) and have been married for 9 years. I have a good job, a good life, a good husband. I don't party, don't drink, don't smoke. For my birthday I wanted to do something I have never done before. I knew that before we were dating my husband had done it only once or twice, and I just wanted to be able to say I'd had the experience. That I had tried it. I only casually mentioned it to him, that I was just curious about what it felt like and he said he could probably get some if I really wanted to. That was the end of the conversation, I didn't really believe he could. And then he brought some home from work, I didn't even recognize what it was when he showed it to me, LOL. So last night, after the kids were in bed, we went out to the garage together. You should have seen us, neither one had a clue if we were doing it right. And then we had great sex and went to bed. I can't tell anyone, I would NEVER tell anyone, so I am sharing it anonymously with you internet. I am 30 years old and last night I smoked pot for the first time.

**Postscript: please don't judge me in the comments, this is a one time only experience. End of story. Neither one of us have any desire for this to be a repeated event. I am happy that my only time getting high was with my husband, in the safety of our own home.

Mother Manipulator

Posted by Anonymous.

My mother and I have never been friends. As a matter of fact, in a different setting, I can almost reassure you that she wouldn’t even like me. Not that I am bad, not always anyway, just that….I am not her. I have no desire to be her. And, because I am writing this as anonymously as possible but I just asked about it publicly, I am going to tell you the stone cold bloody truth and if you figure me out, bleh, who cares.

My mother is a Bible Thumper. She married a man (the first time, marriages 2, 3 and 4 were to the same man who happened to be her first cousin and horribly abusive, husband number 5 for her was too nice of a guy) who was gay and knew he was gay but wanted children and in the 60’s there was no way he could openly admit to being gay. He also married and went to college to prevent being drafted. I know, not all high standard traits by any means, but we are talking truth here ok?

My dad finished school, got a teaching job and taught for 19 years…in the closet. At age 4, my father kidnapped me and left the state because my mother was trying to get a judge to take away his parental rights base on his selection of a partner (amazingly enough, even in the early 70’s that was a truly remarkable thing that judge did.)So, fast forwarding a bit here but at age 13 after my mom had remarried the cruelest, meanest, most abusive man she could find, I moved to live my dad. Note above she married him 3 times….

Enter – the manipulator – that is my mother. She is playing a game of chess and she uses her tactics of manipulating people into doing what she wants. Don’t get me wrong, no one has ever seen that side of her but me and my husband. He had been with me for close to 3 years before he saw the evil manipulation and it was enough for him to ask her to leave our home.

So, I’m skipping a lot here just because what is readily on my mind has to get out of my mind or I’ll never go to sleep. If anyone expresses interested, I will come back and fill in the gaps later.

I am going to tell you this one thing, it is important to the surroundings of today’s particular chess move on my part…and hers too. The time that my mom got so out of hand that she was asked to leave was after she had found out she had cancer and told many people but not me. Instead, she chose to berate me and condemn my ever action for about 3 days. And, then the proverbial shit hit the not-so proverbial fan. And, she left from my house screaming and crying in a fit of rain with a walmart bag over her head about 10 pm.

So, my mom has battled cancer (has lost 3 brothers to cancer and a sister in Florida that is very sick) and was diagnosed as “in remission” last October. But last week we found out that she does have some re-growth but they aren’t going to do chemo or radiation for 3 months. I don’t know why, that’s just what I was told.

And, speaking of what I am told, I am not told everything. I am an only child and I live 100 yards from my mother but my cousin has been living with her on an off for 3 years now and she tells me way more about how sick my mother really is than my mom ever will.

So, today, as we are mulling around after graduation and I was attempting to straighten out a bill for her, she lost it again.

I spent over an hour and a half trying to get a bill straightened out for my mother. The lady on the phone is talking, mom is talking, and mom is talking to a lady on another phone and trying to tell me what the other lady is saying…..

INSERT BAT SHIT CRAZY WOMAN WITH A MONSTER CAST ON ITS LEG SHOVING UP SOME POOR INNOCENT BYSTANDING STUFFED ANIMAL

So, I get off the phone (1.5 hours and 2 lortabs later) and my mom wants to argue with me. I got the email and read the damn thing to her and she just kept saying things like “well why did they do this or why did they do or why did they send me this letter if they didn’t mean for it to be real?”

Now, here’s a couple of tidbits, I was raised in the south, I went through a rough stage when I was 13 or so and being abused by mother's husband but for the most part, I do not talk back to my mother. But, on occasion, and there have only been like 5 in my life, she loses her complete fucking mind and starts yelling crap at me about how horrible my father was and if I knew about his lifestyle, I would think differently about him.”

I cleared the air on that one a couple of big fights ago and let her know that I new it. Since that time she has had nothing to hold over my head. She was beating me at the manipulating game and I forgot I was suppose to be playing.

Now, given, yes this is the woman who has waited on me hand and foot while I’ve been in a cast, she has cleaned my house, done my laundry, cleaned my front lawn and yea, she has cancer. But, she wasn’t ask to do anything except take the boys to school and back and spend time with them when she wanted.

So, today, after that 1.5 hour conversation, she starts to complain to me because we never have any money Now, with that said, we live paycheck to paycheck and right now, we are borrowing from peter to pay paul and then borrowing from paul again so we can peter.

I don’t know what we can do about that. And, right in the midst of all this, my husband was laid off for a week. I don’t have to tell you that I was sick as a dog for 3 days when he told me that. That was a week ago yesterday and at that time I said to myself, which is more important? car notes? electricity? phone bills (my internet is through my phone so that cuts me out of work)..I knew we would never make it til his next paycheck without something being disconnected. So, kept what money I had and waited to see who was going to make the first move and I’d pay them first.

Fast forward to my mom and I getting testy with one another and she explains to me how we live to frivolously (yea, we have satellite tv, not the regular 3 channels) and how we should be doing this and this and this. I am one person in a marriage. I am her daughter and I know she thinks it is ok to say more to me than him, but my husband is a very big shopper. I rarely ever get anything for me other than stuff I win on line.

I let her know that she is making no effort what so ever to enjoy life. She has never for that matter. And, to be perfectly honest with you, the day I has headed to the hospital to be induced to with our first child, my mom said, “I don’t have ever seen you happy in your life, something was always wrong and you look happy right now.”

And wiht that thought, comes the idea that I don’t think I have ever seen my mother and using her own words, “I’ve had a hard life, I am dying I am just not happy” I don’t know how to make her happy, do you?

She complained because we eat out a lot, then she complained because we bought groceries and my husband cooked but didn’t clean the dishes up. She thought that was a sign for her to do it. No, that’s just how it has always been. If we ate at home, he cooked and I did dishes.

But right now I have a medical condition that prevents me from being able to clean up behind him or the kids and so she acts like it is her personal responsibility to do it. And, so the yelling ensues - I tried to explain that I am just one part of the marriage and I have to do to some degree what he wants and in my condition and she cuts me off, she starts screaming and yelling and hollering that she is sick and she is dying and I act like don’t even care.

So, now I am pissed, I do care, it’s all double edged swords at this point. And, I am also pissed that she has chosen to show her ass yet again in front of my kids. My husband and I do not raise our voices to one another ever, not in front of the kids and not ever for that matter.

So, she starts hooping and hollering about how she is sick and she is lonely at her house by herself and I don’t even come out there to check on her. When the truth is, no haven’t been going anywhere that I didn’t have to and she will be at my house and get up and go home and be alone, then be pissed at me because she is alone.

And, when she was sick from the treatments the kids (6 and 4) wanted to see her but she was too sick to deal with them. So, I would leave my kids screaming and crying and begging to see their nanny and go stay with my mom some. An a majority of the time I was there, she was explaining how I needed to go home and be with my kids that I was missing out on too much of their life.

WHAT THE FUCK KIND OF ADVICE IS THAT?

Either way, the phone rings, I had texted my husband in the midst of the argument because my feelings were hurt so bad. He called back after mom had left the room and when she came back inside I was on the with him and sobbing until I couldn’t catch my breath.

So, here we are 24 hours later and she isn’t mad at me but she certainly isn’t happy with me. I don’t know, basically it’s both players yelling “Check Fucking Check” and nothing is accomplished because….no one is willing to back down. I did get up to jolly children though…..they are gone to her house because as soon as I got out of bed, she decided it was time for them to leave..go figure.

As I said, there’s lots of gaps there that could and would explain some of the on-goings but or the most part, this gets the point across. So, if I have anyone asking questions or showing interest, I’ll gladly add some short bits to go with this to help it make sense.

For now, from Anita Beer – I’ll be getting a website sooner or later and at least you will know how to find me.

I Have This Friend

Posted by Anonymous.

I have this friend...

She has a house. A large house with a large yard in a nice neighbourhood. A house that is fully furnished with nice things.

She has a job. A good job with security and summers off that pays well and offers her advancement with even better pay.

She is healthy. Pops the occasional med for the occasional migraine, but nothing major.

She has a partner who loves her and they married last year at a celebration where they were toasted by many friends and family members and gifted with many items.

She and her partner take vacations every year and want for nothing material.

She and her partner also have many years of education behind them, all paid in full.

And she has nothing good to say.

Nothing.

So it is hard for me to listen to her bitch about the state of their back yard when I don't have a backyard.

And it is hard to listen to them communicate with one another in snippy comments and whiny voices.

It is hard to understand why she feels so down-trodden. Why she edited her FaceBook status to read "...bad things happen to good people, I am now wondering why I am the good people that this stuff continuously happens to."

For the record, this is not a pissing contest. This is not about who has it worse off and wanting to come out ahead.

What this is about is, well...

thinking before you complain to a friend that you will not be able to take a 2-week vacation overseas this year when she is lucky to find the time and the gas money to take a road trip to visit family.

not bitching about how hard your union-protected job is as your friend struggles to find a job that will pay more than her unemployment benefits and support both her and her preschool-aged daughter.

being grateful that you will one day pay off the mortgage on the gorgeous home that you own when your friend isn't sure how she is going to pay rent in a couple of months.

being thankful for the husband who appears to love you unconditionally and making a point to mention his strengths, instead of just his weaknesses, to a friend who left an emotionally abusive marriage

keeping your mouth shut and your eyes open as your friend struggles every single day. But doesn't ask for help. And offers her help as and when she can. To whoever needs it. Without condition. Without hesitation.

I don't want pity. I don't a pat on the back. What I want is for this friend to be happy. To recognize all that she has. To recognize that, perhaps, her universe just isn't that bad.

What I don't want is this woman as a friend.

Sticks And Stones And Sisters-In-Law

Posted by Anonymous.

I just have to get this off my back because it keeps playing over and over in my head and it is starting to disrupt my happy and carefree lifestyle.

Lets start by coming out with the cold hard facts. My sister in law and I are pretty good friends. She is actually also my supervisor at work. We get along fine generally.

It's hard for me to even type this. She makes fun of my ears.

I am a confident adult woman. I have slightly large features. big brown eyes, full mouth and lips, large nose and large ears. I have always enjoyed my eyes and lips and tried not to think about my nose and ears. I am very sensitive about my nose and fantasize about having it "done". It is the middle of my face though and I have accepted it as my nose. I idolize beautiful actresses with large noses because if they can get past it then I am. (And I am). I was mocked a bit for it in school but what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I am stronger for it.

My ears... *sigh* My mother always said if I tucked my hair behind my ears they would stick out. I couldn't help it though. My hair was in my eyes and the ears held the hair wonderfully. I have embraced and accepted my ears. There is nothing I can do about them, and I have had them pierced 7x each in a sort of "so there" gesture. Yes they're big but SO WHAT. They're ears. I was never made fun of for them and I don't even think of them besides to hold my hair. No big deal.

Until now.

At first it was kind of, "wow, I never noticed how big (my name's) ears are!" to my partner while I am standing there.

Then:

"WOW look at those ears!"

"Look at (my 2 year old son's name's) ears! I hope you don't have mommy's ears!"

"I just can't think with THOSE EARS!"

"Would you just LOOK AT THOSE EARS!"

Etc, randomly. We could be in the car with my partner or in the house with my mother in law
and out those comments come.

I know she does it for attention but WHY???

Just thinking about it makes me nauseous. If this is how bullied kids feel going to school then I don't blame them for not wanting to go. I want to avoid my sister in law completely. And when we are in the car, like last weekend, and she turned to my partner and says, "OMG HER EARS!" and he turns to me and says, "Hey I didn't say it!" I want to punch him in the mouth for not standing up for me. We have a rocky relationship at best (on my end, he thinks its fine), but the thought of hearing her say that for the rest of my days HONESTLY makes me want to leave him. GONE. I would never have to hear it again.

I don't know what else to do at this point. I have said it bothers me, I have gotten angry. If I bring it up with my partner I know he will blow it off as joking and playing and then not only would I be angry with him I would be hurt to actually hear him say it.

I don't know where else to turn either because it so too embarrassing to even discuss it with my best friend. To me they're just ears until it comes out that they're so big. UGH.

Dear Everyone

Posted by Anonymous.

Dear everyone,

Firstly: boyfriend, I love you, but you are DOING MY FUCKING HEAD IN. You try looking after a baby and two demanding cats all day, trying to run a business, and still have some Me Time. Then imagine someone’s told you that of COURSE you have the fucking time to work, you can just do it in the evenings and at the weekends. Because I have a free evening when I’m not cooking you dinner and pouring you beer and tidying the flat. We’ve poured so much money into this, and I’m scared it’s going to fail if I can’t put more time in. We can’t afford a child-minder and our son is too little to go to nursery, but I need to make time to work. Even if I start as soon as he falls asleep, I still only get half an hour at a time doing useful stuff. I need to be working all hours of the day at the moment, and you don’t seem to appreciate it. In fact, you take everything for granted. You don’t tell me you love me without prompting, you expect to come home to cooked dinner and a nice cold beer and an evening in front of the TV, or playing on the Wii. You think you’re such a perfect modern man because you change the odd occasional nappy or look after the baby while I get a very occasional gym trip, but you’re stuck in the past. You want me to bring some extra money in? Let me work, and not in some shitty shelf-stacking job at the supermarket. Wake up.

Mother-in-law: yes, I get it. Your daughter had a baby too, and he’s smaller and cuter than mine. That doesn’t mean you have to stop being interested in your eldest grandson. I know you never really approved of him: your son and I aren’t married, and you’ve made no secret of the fact that you think I should’ve taken the morning-after pill. Your daughter has been with her husband for ten years and trying for a baby for eighteen months, and you had the gall to be upset when I got pregnant and carried to term after TWO YEARS of miscarriages? And of course, she wants to be a stay-at-home mother, and that makes her a better person than me. They can afford it, we can’t. I know that the baby is the most important thing in my life, but I need to be able to support him and your son, because hell, his company will go down the shitter if things don’t start improving soon. Also, when you do show some interest in your eldest grandson, be gentle with him. He might be a big baby, but he is still a baby. He doesn’t like being thrown around like a toy.

Father-in-law: I’ve worked for you for over a year now, doing bits of design and admin work. Remember we agreed in August that perhaps you could pay me for some of the work I do? Still waiting for that to materialize. Also, when you give me a pile of stuff to assemble into a workable presentation on Sunday night, and expect it done by Monday lunchtime, the answer is a NO. Not unless you’re prepared to fund a child-minder or let me bring the baby to the office. I feel guilty writing this, ‘cause you’ve been very good to me, but PLEASE will you pay me for what I do?

Mum: I’m a mother now. I can make perfectly adequate parenting decisions. I’m not breast-feeding anymore, and in your book that makes me a terrible mother. You know what? He’s thriving on formula and solids (I’ve never met a baby who loves his fruit and veg so much), and that’s much better than him ingesting any traces of Zoloft. I’m not going to put him in his cot and leave him to scream until he falls asleep without trying to rock him to sleep first, just because that’s the way you did it. Stop nagging me to stay chained to the kitchen sink, just like you were. My brother and I turned out so non fucked-up because of your parenting decisions, didn’t we? In addition, forcing me to eat isn’t going to cure me of my eating disorder, and making life so uncomfortable when we visit that I can’t take my antidepressants is going to do nothing but screw me up further.

Dad: Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. Just... you need to stop being a soft touch with your son. You were incredibly strict with me when I was his age, and I can’t believe you like the way he treats Mum and you.

Brother: Get off your lazy backside and get a job. At least help your parents around the house. You’re sixteen years old and you’ve not had a day of responsibility in your life. Mum effectively did your GCSE coursework for you because you didn’t know how: you’ll never fucking learn if you don’t make an effort. Quit spending your money (that they give you) on beer and weed. If you keep having irresponsible unsafe sex with your girlfriend you’ll have to support someone else, and then you’ll be well and truly fucked. Also, quit stealing my money. Every time we come and stay with you money magically disappears out of my purse if I leave it in my room. I’m sick of it. Treat your parents with a little more respect. Grow up and be the man you think you are.

Son, I love you and your chubby baby cheeks and your gummy open-mouthed kisses. I just want to do what’s best for you... I wish I knew what it was.

Signed,

Girlfriend/Daughter/Sister/Mother

Tired

Posted by Anonymous.

I am so tired. I am tired of taking care of everyone and everything. I am tired of always being the optimistic one. I am tired of going without so you can have whatever you want. I am tired of leaving my baby at home* while I work five days a week. I am tired of NEVER having enough money. I am tired of not having enough money and no groceries, tired of begging LITERALLY begging for food money. I am tired of saying that it could be worse. I KNOW IT COULD BE WORSE BUT GOD DAMMIT THIS IS BAD TOO. I am tired of putting on a happy face and taking deep breaths and continuing on. I WANT TO GIVE UP. I want to quit my job quit paying bills and quit leaving my baby. I want to sit on my fat ass and collect welfare and live off of someone else for a while. I want to quit hearing “But your better than that” FUCK BETTER THAN THAT. I want to be that, I want to be lazy and irresponsible and 22. I am 22 years old and I feel like I’m 40! This is fucking ridiculous. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t be this person anymore. I want to scream until my throat bleeds and cry until my eyes cannot cry any longer. I want buy pretty shiny things FOR MYSELF. I want to stop doing dishes and laundry. I just want to be happy again. I know that this will pass and that suffering is normal and I WILL get over this but for RIGHT NOW I just want to be angry and sad. I want someone to tell me that it’s ok and right now it’s shitty and that’s ok too and I want someone to rub my feet and get me a hot cup of tea.

That felt great. Already I'm feeling better - always the eternal optimist. *BTW - just to clarify I don't leave him at home alone! Ha-ha he is with a baby sitter.

Dads Need Their Dads

Posted by Anonymous.

A little background: my father-in-law is remarried to a woman not much older than my husband and I. She has tried to come between fil and us (and has pretty much managed to do it). Trust me there is more to this story than I can put on here for fear of it being discovered and used against me.

To my fil: I wish you would grow some balls. Your son was only home from a freaking combat zone for just under a month. You did not call him when he got home, amazingly you were on "vacation" AGAIN when he got home. He finally called you. You were not home. He spoke to you three times while he was home and saw you only twice, for a total of two hours. You could not even get away from your WIFE to come see him before he left.

In the last couple of years you have gradually crawled up your wife's pussy and cut your grandkids and your son out of your life. I don't care what you and your c*nt of a wife think about me, but DO NOT TAKE IT OUT ON MY HUSBAND OR OUR KIDS.

Do you even see what it is doing to your son, how he hurts for a little attention from his father. You do not know your grandchildren. You have not seen either one of them in over six months. How dare you even claim that you know how they are doing, do you really even care? Are you scared of your wife is that why you don't see them?

My friends tell me not to let it bother me, they don't seem to see that it is not me that is hurting, it is my children and my husband. That is why I get so fucking pissed off. I don't like seeing them hurt. The youngest I don't think it bothers as much, it has pretty much been this way since the youngest was born. It is the oldest, the oldest has seen it become this way.

My husband does not deserve to be treated as crap. He is your blood, your flesh and blood, how can you do this to your own son? How can you treat your grandchildren this way?

I know this does not make sense, I just needed to get it off my chest. I just got back from the airport from putting him on a plane to go back to that combat zone and he was hurting from his father not coming and seeing him before he got back on the plane.

Is Your Love Enough?

Posted by Anonymous.

Is loving someone really enough? Is it enough to forgive wrong doings? To move on from past hurt, so much hurt? Can love make you trust someone again even though you have been so thoroughly hurt?

I love/d you. I did everything I could for you to make you happy. I was there when you went through one of your biggest hurts, through a time that I thought you just might fall. All the way. I trusted you with every secret I had, with every pain, thought or emotion I had. I put myself on the line for you, did everything I was always afraid to do. To trust someone explicitly with my heart. To actually say that I love you and to not be scared. To accept parenting advice without getting defensive. I let you into my family at a time that I should have been scared to but we just clicked. It just worked, we worked. We didn't have to try hard to get along, we never had to explain ourselves, we just got each other. Then. She is where it all went wrong. You didn't like one part of me, one you were not willing to share with me, something sooo easily fixed that all you had to say was the word and I would have done it. I would have done it happily and done it for you. But she came along, she knew about me, she fucking met you when we were together. She was there for you when you needed it but I didn't know. I suspected as much, asked you and you lied. YOU LIED TO ME. We ended and I hurt. I moved on but I didn't get over you. It takes so much effort for me to reveal who I am, so much effort for me to be comfortable and you took that and left me.

We didn't talk for months and all I heard was that you were miserable, I just didn't understand why we broke up. Then I found out about her, the one I asked about and then dropped because you said it was nothing. It was nothing at first. Then she got you, she got the one part of you that I didn't. We stayed in contact throughout your whole relationship, on and off. We tried to just be friends but we often went to far and I never felt bad about it. I never cared because I didn't care about her feelings. I still don't care. Now you are over and you realized you made a mistake. You want to make up for it, you are a different person but we are not sure if we can be together. Are you really sure you're not going to up and leave again? Can I love you enough to trust you?

Every day I fight with believing you again. Everyday I have to remind myself that I finally got the one aspect of you that I never had before, that it is obvious you have changed. You are trying to change.

I am already in too far to walk away unscathed but I might be able to walk away with some of my heart and my pride in tact. She still calls occasionally, she knows about me. She doesn't know everything but she knows enough and I am glad. I am a bad person for being glad that she got hurt, so she can know some of the pain that I felt. I know it's wrong but I am. I unintentionally hurt you so you hurt me again and I forgave you again, I don't think I can forgive you even one more time but I am so drawn to you, you are so drawn to me. We can't walk away but is love enough? Is it really enough? I know you still love me and I still love you but is it enough? Are you enough? Can I accept you for all your faults? I just don't know and it's killing me.

Surprise

Posted by Anonymous.

I don't know why I'm surprised...but I am. I don't know why I expected any different from you...but I did.

It all started in August when I noticed that our daughter's college fund that MY grandfather set up for her was emptied out. You of course denied it over and over again. Before you finally figured out that there was no possibility for you to get out of being caught. Only then did you own up to stealing money from our daughter. What was the reason you took it??? You too this day refuse to give me one. You too this day have promised a zillion times to replace the money and open her account back up, but too this day you haven't. BUT that was my fault I should never have put you on the account as a custodian. WHAT??? I should not have put the father on the account in case something happened to me??

Then in November I find out that the Christmas Club you had been assuring me for months that you had for our daughter's Christmas was FICTIONAL. As in it NEVER existed!!! So it was left up to me to scramble around and find a way to give our daughter something for Christmas. Thank goodness my family let me borrow money so that she would have something to open on Christmas morning.

Then I find out that you took my ATM card..for MY account-not yours-not ours MINE, and took every dime that was in it. A $4,000 tax return ALL of it. Thereby leaving me with no money to get our daughter anything for her 3rd birthday!!! I work at a Sheriffs Office....why do I let you get away with this??? Because you are a paramedic and if I charge you then you won't have a job at all. So which is worse??? Either way we have no money...

All this time you have cried to me about how much you love our girl and me...and this has happened because I never taught you how to tell the truth!! Exscuse me???? I NEVER taught you?? My parents taught me and I plan on teaching our daughter to..so why didn't your parents teach you? You are 37 years old I shouldn't have to give you classes on the difference between the truth and a lie. I shouldn't have to teach you the difference between right and wrong.

And then yesterday I find out that you've done it again. Taken every penny out of MY bank account (by stealing my ATM card). Why am I surprised?? Why did I expect you to be different? Just because you promised me and my family and our little girl that you would never let this happen again. 2 months worth of paychecks...

So my question is this..we don't get paid until May 15th-today is May 6th- HOW am I supposed to feed our daughter??? How am I supposed to pay our bills?? How am I supposed to keep a roof over our heads??

Do you honestly think that your filthy rich parents who live several states away-that incidently have NO EARTHLY IDEA how to spell their granddaughters name- are going to bail you out?? They are as disgusted with you as I am.

I suppose I should have taken a clue when I finally realized that nobody in your family wants anything to do with you. But you were the father of my child and I thought you deserved a chance and another chance and another chance.

I want soooo badly to just kick you out of my house...out of my life...out of our daughters life. But if I can't make it now with both of us working how in the world could I make it alone? I have several friends who have offered to help but I can't let them do that. It is my problem not theirs.

Just typing this out has made me feel a wee bit better.

An Update, In Which Breathing Occurs

Posted by Anonymous.

So a while ago I wrote a post here about my mental illness, general disgruntlement with New York City, and my ridiculous college. (It was called "Suffocating.") Some folks in the comments section wanted to know how that all ended up, so here it is:

I found a subletter for my apartment, sold eighty percent of my clothing to Beacon’s Closet, packed up my cowboy boots and my snowboard, and high-tailed it back to Colorado faster than you can say “spring semester medical leave.”

Or rather, that’s how it should’ve happened. It is true that I left, but it was more complicated than that. I met this boy. Theme parties are dangerous in so many ways, Internet. On October 29th, I went to a Black Friday party with my hair in pin curls. We drank gin out of a bathtub, blasted jazz on vinyl and celebrated our forthcoming decline into financial ruin. There was a boy wearing suspenders and a fedora playing piano. Like, really, really mind-blowing piano. It was his twenty-first birthday. I told him that my birthday is also on the anniversary of a terrible event: JFK’s assassination. He was a piano major at the jazz conservatory at [my ridiculous college].

The day before I went to this party, I had called my parents and told them I was leaving New York, and would never step foot in it again except maybe for Passover Seder.

I am so not that girl. I don’t do things for boys, like move across half a continent. But here I am, living in Colorado, screaming about how miserable it is to be alive in front of a great shrink twice a week, auditioning medications into my system, and moving back to God Damn New York in August, to pull one more semester at my God Damn College. He’s been out here twice; I taught him to snowboard. I spent ten days at his family’s house on the Puget Sound in January, baking bread with his mother for their co-op. (Yes. It’s exactly how it sounds.) Let’s back up.

I said to him: “I’m miserable and moving away, but I’ll have coffee with you and be your friend.” He said, “Okay.” Stupid. What that ALWAYS means is “I will marry you, move to Portland, and have your genius babies. On the weekends we can go antiquing.” Internet, we had a lot of coffee. (BTW, coffee means sex.) The plan was to have a lot of coffee, never commit, I would leave and that would be that. Then we started doing terrible things like having conversations, going to Prop 8 protests, and revealing intimate facts about ourselves like “I am batshit insane sometimes because I have unmedicated bipolar disorder, can you pull my boot off because I’m sobbing uncontrollably and can’t do anything at the moment thanks.” He stayed. Even after he saw me have a panic attack about how to put on pants.

I had an ovarian cyst rupture in November, (My third, and yes, I’m on the pill for it. Look how effective that treatment is!) and he skipped an entire day of class to hang out in the emergency room with me while I got high on morphine. He read aloud to me the last forty pages of Eclipse, which I had crawled into my room to grab as the paramedics banged on my front door. I had it clutched to my chest when they loaded my into the ambulance. (He doesn’t like it when I tell people that he has recited Stephanie Meyer aloud, but hot damn, that makes a keeper, doesn’t it?)

I love him, Internet. I love him more than I hate New York. (And I really, really hate it there.) So I’m moving back, with an arsenal of legally-acquired Xanax, a team of mental health professionals already found, and my very tired snowboard. It’s only until we both graduate, which is two more years, because he is earning two degrees at once, (a BFA and BA) and I am scholastically incompetent. After that, he wants to ride a motorcycle with me across Europe. My only concern was, how would all of my Sephora Problem fit onto a motorcycle? He said, “We can get a side car.” Oy Vey.

Wallet Warning

Posted by Anonymous.

This is a warning to all ladies!!!

Recently my wallet was stolen(on the one day I didn't friggin put it in the back room.) I had a Mastercard and a bank card and some cash in it. The minute I found out it was gone (I was at work so a little busy) I called Mastercard and flagged it was stolen. I tried to call my bank and flag them as well...but it kept hanging up on me (if this ever happens to you, hit 0 until it friggen puts you through!! I so wish my bank's automated system told me that..) I got a phone call from a "representative" of my bank, saying they just caught someone with my wallet. I was so extremely excited that I let slip my pin when asked an onslaught of questions. The "representative" took money from my account.

Yes I know...WTF was I thinking? I wasn't.

PLEASE Ladies if you EVER have your wallet stolen and a "representative" calls the SAME day...for the love of god HANG UP!(an actual bank representative asked me if they had asked me a security question, I said no...then asked him if he asked me one... he didn't) it's like 99% guaranteed it's the thief, standing at whichever bank you go to waiting for you to slip up in your excitement of the thought of them being caught, and give them your pin.

She managed to use my Mastercard in a store before she called to get my pin from me. So please also make sure you get ID'd everytime you use your credit card!!!! get the cards with chips in them! keep your wallets in a safe place!

Write It Yourself

Posted by Anonymous.

I've been doing this writing thing for a while now and I truly enjoy it.

Before I was a writer I had an office job, before that I worked retail and I can say that this is a much more rewarding (although somewhat less lucrative - so far) profession.

However...

(and you knew there was going to be a however, or why would I be here in the Basement?)

... one thing I could do without are the writing prompts.

Family member: Why don't you write about the cute little penguin in the wetsuit?

Neighbor: You should write about re-doing your laundry.

And the worst, most offensive of all - an editor at a group blog (and UNPAID group blog, mind you) "The hottest news topic today is David Kellerman, the Freddie Mac CFO who committed suicide. I can't think of anything to say about that, but maybe you can."

I'd say that is inappropriate for a regional parenting website, but maybe I am not the boss for a reason.

I have been doing this writing thing for a while now and if you want to write about penguins or laundry or David Kellerman go ahead and do so, but mind your own business and leave me the hell alone.

Shock And Concern

Posted by Anonymous.

A few days ago I was over at my sisters visiting. My sis "J" was noticeably so I asked her if she was ok…what she proceeded to tell me completely floored me.

My niece, my little 9 year old niece that I love to bits and have lived with for 5 years on and off helping to raise, well she has a journal and lately J has been having an odd feeling so on a whim when she was up in her room putting laundry away upon seeing her journal laying on her desk….she read it.

Now I do not agree with her reading it at all...that's something very personal and yes even though my niece is only 9 it's still personal….but.

What she found in there warranted some concern…scratch that….A LOT of concern!

My little niece has this boy who likes her and of course she's crushing right back…..turns out this little boy has commented that he wants to have sex with her. That's right... SEX!!!! J told me this and I swear to god my heart stopped.

When my sis and I were growing up we were raised in a very religious house…very religious, plus my mom was in a serious car accident when I was quite young, one that resulted in her having brain damage that made her acting like an actual mom fairly impossible. I didn't learn about sex until I was 15…and that was from romance books..and I didn't even have sex until I was almost 25, not for lack of opportunity but because I consider it something special. I was also very inappropriately touched when I was young throughout my teen years by extended family members, "friends" of the family and boys at school..and I had NO idea what was really going on. I knew it was wrong but that was it.

J and I had had numerous chats before she had kids and she had told me she was going to start having the body talk, inappropriate touching and sex talk early. So when she told me that my niece had written this I asked her if they had already had "the talks"…..and I couldn't believe it when she said no….and even more concerned when she expressed…almost disgust…at the thought of having to have the sex talk with her 9 year old. I think, mostly with the fact that she thinks , as I do, that 9 is WAY too early to even be thinking of sex.

Am I out of line to be concerned? I just don't understand how she could have waited for so long. Girls are starting to become sexually active so much earlier then when I was a kid and seriously..I am only 27!! When I have kids..boys included..I plan on talking to them as soon as they can talk. Of course not the whole adult explanation but things they CAN understand, such as that their bodies are private and special, bad touches, good touches. I don't want my kids to learn about sex and their bodies from their "friends", I want them to be able to come to me and talk to me about anything…about any concerns or questions, no matter what.

I'm now also concerned that my niece will hide even more from my sister. They have such clashing personalities that they don't always get along and it's getting worse as my niece gets older. She knows she can come to me and talk to me about anything but my sis doesn't like me to "interfere" as I'm not her mother.

J talked to my niece after she read her journal and it turns out the boy didn't tell my niece this directly but was talking to some of his friends who then told my niece. But now also..my niece knows that J read her journal….what if she stops writing in it? I don't know what I would have done..would I have read the journal and then talked to my niece in a roundabout way? Would I have admitted to it? Or would I have just sat her down and had the talk without admitting to knowing anything?

I don't know what to do….I'm just so worried. I want to talk to my niece but I don't want to overstep my boundaries. I am not her mom and I know this…I know it's not my place. My sis is a wonderful mom, she really is but I think this is just really uncharted territory.

So what do I do? Do I talk to my sis and ask her if they've had the talk? Do I talk to my niece? Do I just let her know if she has any questions that she can talk to me? Do I then relay her questions to my sis? I've encouraged her numerous times before to talk to her parents if she has any questions at all and I know she does sometimes.

I am not looking forward to being a mom when it comes to this….can't we keep them little forever???

Like It Never Happened

Posted by Kate.


OK, ladies, grab a drink and clear out some time, this is gonna take a while - it's a long story, even by my standards.

Right up front, I was raped when I was 12. It was a violent thing, nasty, and I ended up with rather severe PTSD. Part of the messed-up-ness was because he told me the standard, "If you tell anyone, I'll kill you and your family," which I believed wholeheartedly. So my parents didn't find out for three years, and then it was during a fight that I kind of threw it at them. They were shocked and upset, as you can imagine. I didn't fully grasp it then, but now with children of my own, I have an idea of how completely devastating that would be to hear.

At my mother's insistence, I went to two therapists, once each. The first was a family therapist, who first met with me alone and told me, "OK, when your parents come in the room, I want you to tell them why you kept that secret for three years." I was a pissed-off 15-year-old, totally not ready to work with her or get healthy, so needless to say, I clammed up and refused to go again. The next one sat knee-to-knee with me and said, in that stereotypical overtherapisty sicky-sweet kind of way, "Tell me everything that happened." She was literally in my face, and her eyes looked like ET's eyes. Again, I clammed up and wouldn't go back. After that, my mother stopped trying to get me to see anyone, and she never, ever mentioned anything about it.

And that's how it continued for the next 17 years. Once in a while I would make a vague reference to it, she would become visibly uncomfortable, and one of us would change the subject. Fine, I can't blame her there, that Mom-guilt has got to kick in, blah blah. I did get therapy - two full years with the same woman, when I was 21-22. And took medication then, and generally worked harder than I've ever worked in my life and turned a lot of things around. I got healthy, basically. Eventually. It just so happens that this June will mark 20 years since the attack, and I am grateful for just how good my life is, even when it's hard.

Anyway, fast-forward to last weekend. When we were visiting her house, I took the kids to the zoo and left Willem at my mom's house doing schoolwork. He and my mom were alone in the house, and when he took his lunch break, she kind of cornered him. It started appropriately enough: "I'm really concerned about Kate, I hope she's getting treatment, I want you to know that I'm always here, if you or she needs a place to get away for a while..." A little pushy, in spots, but not unreasonably so, coming from a mom.

Then she brought up my blog, which she does not read, has never read, refuses to read despite my assurances that it is public and written with the knowledge that anyone might visit. But because of two factors, I've been much more forthcoming and descriptive about the rape in recent months. One, I've reached a stage in my life where I feel a need to stop treating it as a secret, shameful thing, and can share the details because it might resonate with somebody, might even help someone, somehow. And two, because I've been so depressed, I have been way much in touch with my unhappy memories. Whenever you're feeling something of a certain intensity, it's going to remind you of other times in your life when you've felt similarly.

So, my sisters read my blog once in a while - not every day, but when they have time and interest. Which is fine, I don't mind them stopping by and I don't expect them to be daily readers. They read one of the more graphic posts, maybe in January or so, and Sarah (my 22-year-old sister) was upset about it. She's very empathic by nature, so it makes sense that it would have hit her hard. She went to my mother with it, because she was afraid it would hurt me more (this is before I was even on an antidepressant, much less having it start to work).

So (GAWD this is a long lead-up, but I can't figure out how to explain it differently), my mother mentioned that all to Willem, about how intense the post was and how it upset the girls, and how "they never visit the blog anymore now" - which is untrue, I haven't noticed any change in their frequency of comments. And then.

She said to him, my husband of 8 1/2 years and most trusted confidante, who has seen me go through the worst of the PTSD and come out on the other side... she said, "You know, the longer Kate goes on believing that this happened, the harder it's going to be on her. It never happened." And she repeated, "It never happened."

Willem told me the next day - he didn't want to mess up the weekend, and rightly so. Because it has really, really messed me up. (Again, thank God for Zoloft, if it hadn't kicked in I would be a blithering, sobbing puddle.)

And, to make it all MORE fun, I called her on Monday to talk to her about it - I'd have called her when I found out, but we were in the car with the kids and didn't get home until 11:00. I just don't believe in letting things fester too long, and I knew this was something that wouldn't just ease up if I gave it some time - it was going to eat away at me until I talked to her about it. She denied ever saying that. She says that she told Willem, "I don't know the details of what happened, because I wasn't there, and nobody except Kate knows those details." But I've known Willem a long time, and conversed (and argued!) with him over a lot of years. I know that he very rarely can remember the specific words that someone used, he gets the broad idea but can't quote (I can, neener neener) but when he does remember, he is always right and very firm about it.

Which means my mother is lying about her words, and apparently she either believes that I am lying about the rape, or that I am delusional. I know this, not just think it, because later in the week I talked to Sarah about it - I wanted to let her know that I knew about the weirdness with Mom and that she could always come to me with any questions she might have, just to get both sides of the story. She jumped at the chance to ask a few questions (mostly, "Why didn't you tell me earlier?" to which the answer is, I wasn't ready to share earlier, plus you haven't been an adult for all that long.) And then she said that Mom told her the exact same thing in January, before I could tell her about the Willem-interaction..

I have confronted my mother with it, and it just went nowhere. She is so completely defended against this, she has all of her lines and reasons all figured out already. And I have no idea who else she has told.

I can't wrap my head around this. I can't understand why she feels the need to share her disbelief with others. What bothers me isn't that she disbelieves me - I can't control that, obviously. There's no way I could "prove" it to her, and I would never force her to listen or read all about it. What bothers me is that she has chosen to seek out other loved ones and tell them about her thoughts. Now I have three of the closest people in my world involved, with Willem and Sarah telling the same story (and without having talked to each other about it) and no motivation to lie about it, and my mother denying it completely... both the initial act and her subsequent statements.

I'm someone who copes best with situations if I have some idea of why it happened... I don't need to agree with the why, I just need to understand it. But I don't understand hers. My best guess is that she believes something like, "If something like that happened to my 12-year-old child, I would have noticed something wrong." My parents always labeled me as overdramatic, and apparently she is now forgetting the hypersexuality, the panic attacks, the refusal to sleep in my own room because there was only one door to escape from, and so on. So it has become a measure of her own parenthood - if I truly was raped, then that means she didn't do everything right, at least in the follow-up, and she can't live with that. Or something.

I imagine that it's just too painful for her to imagine that she missed that. I have long since taken responsibility for my own actions - and my own bad choices, like chronic lying and hiding the experience for many years - and have had to let go of any resentment I might have had that she wasn't psychic or perfect. I know she did the best she could at the time.

Sigh. If you've made it this far, thanks for hanging in there. It's a lot, isn't it?

I wish I could just let it lie, smooth it over... because apart from this, our relationship has really grown strong in the past few years. But it has really been gnawing at me. And I just can't see how it would be healthy for me to ignore the sense of betrayal and hurt I'm feeling right now.

So, what do I do now?? Given that I've already had two very long, unsuccessful, unpleasant phone calls with her about it and have gotten precisely nowhere.

And how do I understand this better? Because she's denying so much that I'm not getting any sort of guidance from her, about why it serves her better to disbelieve and tell others than to believe, or to disbelieve and keep it to herself.

She has been very hurtful through those calls, critical of me (ohbytheway, she also doesn't believe that I ever went through any sort of therapy for this), comparing me to her emotionally abusive coworker, talking about how "Now I can't just relax and be myself around anyone because I'm afraid I'll be misunderstood and punished for it" (an excellent attempt at a guilt trip, I have to admit).

My mom is a lot like me in a lot of ways - she can come across as almost too assertive, intimidatingly confident, very self-assured, even when she's not feeling at all like that inside. She Does Not like to be caught or accused of making a mistake or doing something hurtful (not like any of us do, but she's especially defensive about it), even if it's something small like being chronically late or confusing the day's plans.

Anyway. Enough. Sorry this was so endless, but it feels better to vent and organize it a little... I can't blog it. I don't want my sisters feeling any more in-the-middle than they already do, and I just don't feel the need to preemptively defend myself there - but I really could use some insight.

PS: As an update, after writing the above, I decided to wait until I had something to say before calling my mother again. A month went by, and I finally called her on Mother's Day, mostly to let the kids talk to her. I kept my side of the conversation quick and light, no more than polite. Apparently this signaled to my mother that everything is A-OK now, all smoothed over, like it never happened. She calls me a few times a week "just to chat" and hasn't even obliquely referred to any of this. I've continued to be polite, to call if there's something I need to know (she's hosting my sister's high school graduation in a few weeks), and to wonder what this is really all about. I'm not angry, or even overtly upset anymore, mostly just disappointed and baffled. And I still don't know what to do.