Wednesday, June 19, 2013

When you find that letter your mom asked you to destroy unread, but instead you post it online

So, I think I posted something about the mystery letter that my mom had written about me and saved.  Well, I found it.  I should preface this by saying that my mother had a very active imagination that she used in re-writing history in the most insane manner.  I've checked some details of this (and I knew some before) and they're totally false.  I'll comment further after the letter:

Hope this isn't blank.  I wrote an email and sent it to 4 people.  Three of them were blank.  It is probably just as well.  The only person who recieved[sic] the particulars actually knows Jeremy and she told me about the same thing you said.  She has two daughters and they both have given her the, "You are such a bad mother and you ruined my life" speech. I think a big part is being a single parent.  Anything that went on can be blamed on us because we were the only one there.
I don't take responsibility for Jeremy's father's drinking problem.  That is the big issue with us.  In hind sight[sic], he doesn't think it was so bad.  He accused me of always telling him only negative things about his father.  I did harp on the drinking, but it has a genetic link and my mom's father was an alcoholic as well.  And it is not as though he didn't witness plenty of the embarrassing drunk moment for himself.
I never told him about the cut brake line, or his dad knocking me off a 15 foot fence on my head and having to go to the emergency room, or his dad kicking me in the stomach when I was pregnant with our second child.  I began hemmoraging[sic] and he refused to take me to the hospital.  I guess God wasn't ready for me to join him yet, because my ex-husbands[sic] brothers and sister showed up and took me to the hospital.  I only found out what was said and done last year because my brother-in-law told my sister and she told me.  She thought I knew.  They came to visit unexpectedly and I was unconscious in a pool of blood, convulsing on the floor.  His brothers asked him what the hell was going on.  He said, "Let the bitch die".  His brother told him, "What do you think her father will do to you if she dies?"  The brothers took me to the hospital.  And Jeremy saw him run into me with the car and drive off.  Somehow, I am the bad guy.  I didn't tell him any of the bad things, though.  I promised myself I wouldn't and I won't.  Not for his father's sake, but for his.  There was a lot of other abuse, but I have tried to put it behind me.
At this point, I really don't care if I see my son again.  I never through I would ever in this life even think such a thing.  But there it is.  He told me he didn't like me.  Where can you go from there?  I am sorry, but I am not going to be merely tolerated.  He also told me a lot of stories about things that never happened.  I am wondering about mental illness, it is hereditary in my family.  It just really hurts when someone you always sacrificed everything for doesn't even care and blames you for things that you had no control of.  I am actually handling it better today.  I didn't cry at all today.  I have called to talk to Gary because he is in Dallas with Jeremy.  I can't think of a single thing to say when Jeremy answers the phone.  I try to come up with something and I can't.  I am just mute except for, "Can I talk to Gary?"
Well, enough of that.  What the hell do you mean you have to go back on the 28th?  Of July?  Hope not.  Got to go.  Leah.
So that's the letter she wrote that she was hanging on to.  I no longer remember the exact details, but I was here in NM for a very short time and she used to do this shitty thing where she would get me on the phone and not let me off.  So if I was in town for four days, I'd block one to spend with her, and then I'd usually also drop by for a bit on another one, but for whatever reason, she felt it was important to call and try to keep me on the phone for 6 hours.  She was always insane, as she indicated in her letter, she just never realized that when someone remembers events completely differently from you, that's not enough data points to determine which one of you is insane.  Oh and considering that she got a lot of information from her sister, Karen, says a lot.  That woman is completely nuts.  I think that because my mom was around Karen and their mother is the reason she assumed that she wasn't insane. She was functionally insane.  You had to be around my mother for a while to really figure it out, but you can feel it rolling off of her mother and sister instantly.

Also, I never saw my dad hit my mother and drive off.  I did see her hit him and knock him down while he was trying to get away from her.  He then left and spent the night sleeping in his truck, I assume.  That's the only memory I have of them fighting.  I do, however, have memories of all the other stories that she claimed to have been shielding me from.  The cut brake line story I got from multiple angles.  There's a building in Deming with an extra defensive wall that was built around one corner.  It was apparently for her, because she hit it twice.  My family is historically poor and so they have had a string of cars that they've worked on and kept barely running.  According to many sources, my mother used to run up to a stop sign and then slam on the brakes.  This is not something you want to do with an old car right after working on the brakes.  She was a pretty horrifying driver all around anyway.  But yeah, the 'cut brake line' was really her driving like an imbecile...twice (at least).  And I had heard about it plenty, and independently researched it long long ago.

Most of the other stuff is just more of her revisionist history.  Everyone is the protagonist in their own story, and most people who have extremely fallible memories seem to rewrite them according to some pattern particular to themselves.  My mother's pattern was always how she is the lone good guy, and everyone else around her is insanely evil or petty with no motivation.  They're like the bad guy in Gladiator.

Okay, that's enough for now.  This wasn't a terribly funny entry, but I wanted to get this letter down, you know, for posterity.

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

The more things change, the more they don't

So much has changed and yet so much remains the same.  Mom is still dead for one.  So is my dad.  I'm still living in my mother's house in Deming, New Mexico at the moment.  Why?  Because something comes up every time I try to get things in order to get out.  It's always something different, and I know it's June and I've been trying to do it since Feb.  What happened?  Part of it was me working on other things and not being ready, but once that went on long enough, everything else came in to shit on my efforts.

The biggest one of these things is that my aunt went to get screened for cancer because my dad had just died of it, and then my mom did.  Guess what!  She had some.  So she hauled her ass to the biggest and best cancer hospital possible: M.D. Anderson..  I'm not upset about that sacrifice in the least, it's just...  Well I have a thing.  The thing is this: if you tell me something will happen, or if I plan for something to happen on a certain day, and it gets moved, I'll get annoyed.  If it keeps happening, I'll want to kill you. With my aunt, it was fine, because she's really the last vestige of anything parental in my life, and I still really need some of that around, even just passively, because I'm not ready to be an adult.  Is anyone?  My dad said he never felt like one.  I think that might just be how it is for those of us who remain silly and playful goofballs.  You're never not a kid, you just see that these kids who are 20 years younger than you are real morons and maybe they need some advice and help.

So this brings me to my latest thing.  I went with my aunt, she had surgery, we stayed in Houston for a month and enjoyed that M.D. Anderson is a fucking amazing hospital to be in.  It was almost a pleasure to stay there.  And then she recovered for a while and we drove back to Deming.  And now, NOW I can surely have this yard sale and get on with selling the house.  So I set a date and made a plan.  And then my grandfather wanted me to drive him that weekend to a family reunion.  I kindly blew him off, and then he basically begged me on the verge of tears.  So I couldn't fucking say no.  Fuck.  He wants me to drive all night Friday, "enjoy" the reunion, stay the night, and then drive back all night Sunday.  My problems are as follows:
1) the moving yard sale target has me almost just wanting to kill myself because if I come back and anyone does anything that makes me move it one more time, I'm going to prison for murdering that person, and I'll probably do it with my hands and teeth, so I'm not likely to get any leniency.
2) I don't give a shit about family I don't know.  I know lots of people are into their ancestry and whatnot, but I mostly think that people who are overly concerned about finding royalty in their family lines are people who are looking to bask in someone else's glory as their own, because that's all they're going to get.  As for me, being related to me only means that I'm going to be thrust into your presence a lot more often than I would otherwise, and if I like you, it's great.  If I dislike you, the fact that you've got some small percentage of my DNA doesn't mean anything at all to me.
3) I get hypnotized driving at night.  It can get so bad that I have to just look off to the side and not at the road in front of me, because I nod off if I do.  I can be on the verge of falling asleep and stop the car and be wide awake, but once those stripes start rolling in front of me and I have nothing else to look at, I'm going under.
4) Family reunions are the worst fucking things ever if you know nobody there, because at any other thing you at least have the distraction of flirty and witty banter with a stranger.  Though, it is a branch of family from Oklahoma and Arkansas, so I'm sure a lot of them are specifically going to the reunion looking for a hook up.

The only other thing I have to say is that my mother is not 1/4 the handyman she led herself to believe she was.  I'm certain this house is a hydra.  Every time I repair some little thing that she did, two more related problems rear their heads.  When I got back from Houston The AC wasn't working.  I realized my mother didn't drain the pipes up to the roof, and so those were screwed, and her stopgap was apparently chewed-off by a dog, and so I set up a really redneck solution so that I could sleep and recover from the trip for a few days.  That led to the pump going out, and then to me discovering a whole bunch of other problems with flues.  She had the AC flue in the furnace room, and the furnace flue in the AC.  I discovered the last one after I had reengineered the AC flue to fit the furnace.  Whoops.  Guess I best sell the house while it's warm outside.

Okay, rant over.  I'll vent more when I get back from Oklahoma.