Don’t Take Shit From People

So I’m laying here tonight trying to relax after the week from hell. (Impending eviction)

Fumbling through my old Facebook photos, you know how that goes. you start nosing in on people you’ve lost touch with over the years to see what they’re up to. Tonight, mine led me to a face that I haven’t seen in over 9 years. My mother.

For the past couple of years, I’ve missed her. I’ve missed having a mom I could call up and ask for advice from. I’ve missed having a mom that would be there for me when I needed her. Most recently, I’ve needed my mother to deal with this illness. whatever it is is. Fibromyalgia, ME/CFS, something neurological. I really don’t know what the fuck is going on inside my body. I know I’m in early onset menopause, I know I have pretty severe osteoarthritis as it’s throughout my body and leaves me pretty crippled in the damp and humid weather. I know I have something seriously wrong with my spine and am waiting to see a specialist about it. I know I have PTSD.

I’ve also needed my mom to deal with my father. His in and out presence in my life. His oblivion to my pain. His inability to recognize how seriously he has damaged me.

Then I browsed through some more photos. Saw her and my stepfather got another dog. Got a new motorhome I see. It baffles me how my parents were unable to attend my wedding years ago (I’m divorced now, thankfully and am with the right person, finally) but are apparently able to travel in a camper. You couldn’t even send me a card when I got married.

I remembered how my mother was never there for me. When I called she couldn’t be bothered to take the time to talk to me on the phone. Her TV shows were more important. No matter if I was in a jam and needed help, or just really needed to hear her voice when I was down or needed life advice.

I had no one to go to for life advice.

I look at my stepfather’s smug face in his profile picture and remember how he always looked at me with contempt. Like I was gross. Some kind of fucking slimy garden slug. A garden slug with a bad smell. Yeah, that’s how I would describe it. Oddly enough, it’s the same way my stepmother always looked at me.

I feel like I’ve gone through tremendous mental growth over the past few years. I’ve terminated friendships that were not healthy, balanced or kind. I don’t need that. I’ve ended associations with people because I don’t share their views or ideas. I have different values, I have strong morals. something that seems to be lacking in this world.

Funny thing is, I didn’t get these morals or values from anyone in my family. Not my mother, not my father, and most certainly, not my step parents. I have absolutely nothing in common with my stepbrothers. For the most part, they’re egotistical, selfish, immature, and well… they’re kind of jerks. Who needs that? Nope.

I developed my own code as I grew up. As I made mistakes or failed, I learned lessons the hard way, on my own. Some values I received from my grandmothers. My paternal grandmother was a woman of faith who taught me about Jesus and the Bible at a very young age. I loved it. I found the time we spent reading the Bible together, I read it out loud to her because the printing was too small for her eyes, to be peaceful and reassuring. My maternal grandmother taught me about strength and perseverance. She taught me how to cook. Both grandmothers taught me to stand up for myself and, in their words, “don’t take shit from people.” They were sassy ladies. I probably get my sassiness from them as well.

No. Looking at my mother tonight brought me to a conclusion. A closure even. I don’t know this person, and she doesn’t know me. She’s never been that kind of mom you could call when you needed her. She’s never been that kind of mom that puts her (only) child(ren) first. She’s always been more concerned about her own needs, her own wants. It was proposed to me that perhaps my stepfather is too controlling. Well, yeah. he is controlling, sometimes an outright asshole but, I also know this. What my mother wants, my mother gets. My stepfather has always been a “Yes Dear” man. He’s not entirely to blame. My mother had a choice, and she chose to pretend I don’t exist. In the photo of my mother’s most recent lap dog, she’s a better dog mom than actual mom, I zoomed in on the shelf behind her. There were pictures of stepbrother one and his woman, next to it was a photo of stepbrother two and his wife. There were no other photos on that shelf. No, I’m sorry, their past dead dogs’ photos were there. But that was it. I didn’t make the shelf display cut. I simply don’t exist.

Last year, this would have sent me spiralling down the depression hole quicker than a squirrel up a tree with a cat after it. But tonight something in me clicked. I’m done grieving my father and my mother. It took some time, but I think I’m done. They’ve sucked up enough of my time and energy. No more.

I cut these ties.

I am just going to focus on building what I have with the love of my life. I’m going to enjoy some happiness for a change. As my paternal grandmother would have said, “Fuck ’em.” So sassy.

I feel remarkably stronger and lighter. My love is intact, my faith is stronger than ever. That’s all I need. We have overcome worse things in our lives, we’ll overcome this too.

Live Humbly, Be Charitable, Live Graciously,

S.

Blogmas Not So Much

The Blog Broad BlogmasI started to write Blogmas posts but quite frankly, I’m just not feeling writing about Christmas.  See my first Blogmas post here.

It’s all so commercial.  Geared towards the consumer.  I haven’t been a proper consumer in years.  I haven’t been able to work in years.  I’m trying to do things from home.  It’s picking up but it’s slow going.   When you’re poor and chronically ill and in pain daily, your priorities change in life.  Where, at one time I fretted over things like the perfectly decorated Christmas Tree, or making sure I baked enough cookies.  Will I get all my Christmas shopping done in time?  Now I think things like, can I stay awake long enough to visit with people?  How many bed ridden days will this holiday bring?  Can I handle the stress of the travels?  Am I going to break down and cry in front of her family?  Am I going to annoy my partner because I’m so exhausted I’m going to need to rest when she wants to go out?  Please don’t let my dog poop in the house.  There’s a lot of stairs in that house and the house itself is huge.  My body is not used to that, so my legs and back often give out while I’m there.  It’s embarrassing.  ME/CFS is embarrassing.  The only other people who understand it, typically, are those with the disease.  To others, we’re just depressed or lazy or need to get out more or or or.

My partner and I also both lost our fathers.  Hers to cancer about 16 months ago; mine at his own choice by cutting me out 18 months ago.  The loss of her father still hangs heavily on everyone’s hearts.  He was a great man.  A kind, gentle and caring man; one of a kind.  My father, still alive, has always been kind of a jerk.  Selfish, immature and somewhat ignorant of the world.  He’s not a loving man.  Nevertheless, he’s my Dad.  I still love him and his absence hurts.  My mother’s absence hurts; we haven’t spoke in 5 years.  Family is actually incredibly important to me and it’s always bothered me that mine is so fractured.

Being chronically ill disables you.  Physically and mentally.  Unfortunately many of us fall into that grey area on paper where you don’t qualify for provincial or federal benefits.  Most people require legal representation to get those federal benefits.  If you can’t work, you rely on your “family”.  My family consists of my partner “C”, my dog Lucy, my partner’s family and my sisters from other misters.  These are my close gal pals that I confide in.  That confide in me.  They’ve helped me many times.  I trust these women.  In my life, I haven’t been able to rely on or really trust my own blood family, but I can trust these women.  They are my support.

I have other things on my mind right now besides Christmas.  I’m more concerned about getting by day by day.  My partner’s job could be gone any time because there’s no job security where she works.  I can’t go in to detail about what she does as it’s kind of a public job.  It’s stressful.  So, are we out spending money on presents?  No, we’re trying to keep up with bills and the ever increasing cost of eating healthfully which costs just as much as our rent I might add.

Do I want to write a holiday inspired post everyday?  No.  Not really?  I just don’t give a tiny rat’s ass right now.  I’m still battling a virus, my partner has it, my wrist is still healing/broken.  I won’t know unless I sit at the hospital emergency for hours and hours because let’s face it, it’s not really an emergency, I just don’t have a doctor and really need an X-ray.

B’ah.  Humbug.

I need a nap.

The Blog Broad tag line
Sam

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