They must know that real Kentuckians drink by the bottle. :)

End of the line
 

I can't do this anymore. I can't tolerate a narcissistic abusive mother who loses no opportunity to play games and inflict pain on her adult children.

Who, when she's in hospital with a fracture, has the presence of mind to verbally pin one daughter to the wall in order to get information she wants, and then pretends to a second daughter (me) that she knows nothing and is just wondering about ... the exact situation. So that she can see whether I will lie or tell the truth.

I opted for the third choice, i.e. not to discuss the topic at all. But knowing that she bullied my younger sister into admitting things that were NONE of her business, and then called me up to see if she could catch me in a lie ... I am furious.

This is bumming my stone, scorching my groove, and pissing me off hugely tonight. I have to go to bed and get enough rest to be able to safely drive 5 hours south tomorrow, and at the moment I can't imagine getting to sleep.

After a lifetime of abuse I am triggered by almost any interaction with her. Honestly, by any and every interaction with her, because she's so oblivious in her narcissism that she never lets up. There's always a flick of the lash or a beating with a 2x4.

Right now, she's been on a search and destroy mission to know whether any of us were going to celebrate my father's 80th birthday with him. They've been divorced 20+ years, after 33 years of her abusing him and all of us kids (physically, verbally, mentally, emotionally). She has no right to know anything about him, but she's managed, through her lawyer, to find his address and send him malicious letters that salted certain wounds from the past. Now she's threatening to make legal trouble over his stay with us.

I cannot do this anymore. I always said I'd stay in touch no matter how obnoxious or toxic she was, and ensure that she wasn't in need - because she's my mother. I've stayed in touch directly, even when it was detrimental to me and my family. I've continued contact after she threatened legal action to assert her 'grandparental rights' to partial custody of my daughter (when we lived in Ontario. A family law attorney told me that she could indeed win partial custody there; and even if we moved back to the US, if she were determined, she could have a sheriff pick up our daughter and remove her back to Canada as the court dictated).

I think it's time I closed this chapter. I can't do this anymore.

Yay parents! We can only try not to repeat these performances for our children.

Yes, at least I have a clear picture of the sort of person I don't want to be, and can make deliberate choices not to repeat her performance.

Mum insisted I clean my room this weekend. This is less because it "completely stinks" - it wasn't tidy but there is nothing in there to stink. Clean bedding to go on, pile of clothes I'd been meaning to try on, some paperwork on floor. It's more because she likes to assert control and slag me off to her witch-friends who advocate throwing me out of the street as tough love.

Narcolepsy aside I managed a turn this morning and this afternoon with a sleep in between. The sleep was my bad; I sat down. Lazy of course.

In the mean time my bro came round with his holiday snaps. At this point I'm shaking and nauseous and know I will fall asleep if I sit down again, so I decline. They're all jammed into the spare room as Dad has now "tidied away" all the camera-card-TV connections, not just mine. Upstairs-hoover is on far side of the room, no way I can get it out without much kerfuffle and trust me I really wasn't making a big deal of things. I just wanted to get it done so she could shut her pie-hole and I could get back to sleep.

Done. Took about 2 hours in total, but it was done to the nth degree and also involved a clothes-trying-on-session for tomorrow evening, changing my bedclothes, giving Diz's tray a deep clean (because one of the the witch-frinds believes Diz "pisses and shits everywhere" because I don't keep his tray clean, rather than because he cannot deal with sharing a house with another cat). Came back downstairs with downstairs-hoover and empty litter tray. Slipped. Not surprising. Currently unable to walk in a straight line or get through a spoken or written sentence correctly. Crash, bang, wallop.

"OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE! BETWEEN YOU AND YOUR FATHER YOU'RE DRIVING ME MAD!"
"i think you were mad already" I respond tonelessly, lying in the purple shards of Diz's clean and broken tray.
"OH GREAT YOU BROKE IT"
"I'll replace it. It's just the tray, your hoover is fine."

At which point I think she remembers Steven is upstairs.
"Did you break anything?"
"no"

Back to photo viewing leaving me to sort the debris.

Now I know I have kinda suggested it was her fault. And I know it wasn't.
I know.
It wasn't. It's just more and more these days, walking in through the front door feels like going down the rabbithole.

Anyway, at least I wasn't screamed at like Dad; he fell in the bathroom the other night.
I'm pretending that I can believe she wasn't overly rough while getting him up. Not physically at least, my earplugs dealt with the verbal. And he bruises spectaculary after falling and hitting his ribs arm and head.

Oh I added to some of my curent bruises from falling about, into doors, into the dishwasher at work, into the trays in Bake-Off. Opened up my two burns - blue plasters tomorrow. Nothing significant, just ouchies. Too flat to even cry. Yay medication.

I'm so sorry to hear about your situation, Sundae. I wish I'd win a multi-million dollar lottery so I can give you oogles of money to move out. I know how it feels to live with a mean and nagging mother.

Ortho: I'm sorry to hear about your situation too.

Why are some parents so cruel to their kids? :(

Sorry, that was pretty much self-pity and get-it-off-your-chest.

New day today.
Off to work.

Damn, it sounds like y'all are going through hell. All of y'all are welcome to move in with me

my fucking computer.

I have decided that all computers suck, and need to be cleansed by fire.

It's pissing me off that any sane person can think that someone can have 50 dogs as pets.

May I suggest an axe? It gives such a feeling of release

And what about that suspicious walk in cooler?
And what's up with the weekly deliveries of vacuum sealing bags and small heavy duty styrofoam chests? And why is there always a UPS truck coming and going? That's what I want to know.

http://www.digtriad.com/news/local/s...storyid=306112

Just horribly sad but what's wrong with this picture? Collectors ... :sniff:

Not Nirvana's post or it's content.

But these damn web site "auto-start ads" :mad:
... some even have sound levels set up high - like the commercials on tv