Just a brief update because my head is in the clouds and I can’t articulate well, right now.
It went so damn well that I don’t know where to begin.
I wanted to write a great illustration of what it feels like when things go well. I wanted to tease, and lead into a story, and draw it out.
But I hate that when someone has something to say, and they won’t cut to the chase.
It WENT SO WELL.
And I am encouraged. I’m excited for my kids to talk to her. Continue reading →
Dang. It’s hard to type through tears. Happy tears, that is.
My notes are ready. I’m drinking hot water instead of my usual coffee. No point in making myself any more jittery. I’m reminding myself to take deep breaths. Mother nature cooperated by bringing us a big beautiful sunny sky. I feel brave and strong and even a little excited. Weird.
This feeling is reminiscent of the one and only time I ever jumped off the high board at swimming lessons. I wanted to climb back down that ladder so damn bad. I stood there forever, covered in goosebumps with my elbows pressed against my sides, and my hands tightly clasped under my little pointy chin. I so wanted to show everybody that I was brave, but really I was scared shitless. It took me forever to make the jump. I could feel my stomach climbing to my throat. I closed my eyes, counted to 10 (real slow) and jumped.
I didn’t die. It was exhilarating, scary, and fun. And it hurt.
I’ve never done it since. But, at least I DID it.
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Whew!
We’ve been running around all weekend. The busier we are, the easier it is to avoid the phone, to not think about Monday, to pretend that life is normal. We are practicing the art of distraction. Damn. We are good at distractions.
Will walked over to me midday yesterday. He was fidgety, blinking, pacing and unable to focus. I took one look at him and I knew what was churning in his brain. He and I are on the same frequency. I turned my chair from the computer, to face him, and I didn’t say a word. He looked at me with these huge, pleading brown eyes and said, “Mom. I’ve got to get out of here. I can’t quit thinking about dad. I’ve got to get myself busy.” Just then Jenny chimed in with, “Mom. If the phone rings, I’m not here.”
So we took off. We’ve been going and coming and visiting and moving and avoiding.
I have to collect my thoughts by tomorrow.
Here’s what scares me. Continue reading →
I don’t know how old my kids were before they figured out that rubber bands weren’t actually called ammo. Will had this wooden gun that shot red rubber bands. He’d holler, “Mom, I need more ammo. Where’s the ammo?” Jenny would be cruising around with a Barbie tucked under one arm, and she’d spot a red rubber band behind a chair, and she’d yell, “Hey brother! Over here! There’s ammo behind the chair.”
I think they discovered rubber bands were called ‘rubber bands’ about the time they discovered bars of soap. Seriously, they didn’t know soap came in a solid. The first time they took a bath with a bar of soap was a thing to behold. They spent a big soapy long while in the tub. The bar of soap was squeezed between their little slippery wet hands, until it popped up and landed back in the water with a big splash.
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I used to follow this chat forum about daughters of narcissistic parents. I was thinking I’d learn a lot and find some new tools. I can’t go there any more. It’s heartbreaking. In some cases, I would read about a 70 year old woman hoping that one day her 90 year old mother would love her. I read of a 28 year old woman trying desperately to get her mother’s approval. I would read their accounts of wrongs or hurts, and I could hear all the dashed hopes in their posts.
Now I am seeing my kids get their hopes up about next week’s counseling sessions. It is good that Mark is taking this step. Jenny and Will want to believe that things can change. They want to go to bed at night believing that their dad really loves them in all their unique, sweet weirdness. They want to be like their cousins who are fathered (and loved) by dads who like spending time with them, who take them to T-ball practice and wrestling meets and swim lessons. Continue reading →
I brought a fresh cup of coffee to my 8:30 counseling session with my blog today. Seems life continues to hand me more fodder for ‘Surviving Narcissism’. This is where I get to use expressions like, “The proof is in the pudding”, “It’s time to take the gloves off”, and (hopefully), “He never knew what hit him.”
I’m using ALL the narcissism tags for this post.
Mark didn’t get to spend a lot of time with the kids this last weekend. Grandma and Grandpa returned from wintering in Arizona, and the kids needed some serious spoiling time. So when Mark called Monday night, I wasn’t surprised to hear his characteristic what-about-me, martyr voice. He said, “You have told me to make them a priority, and when I try to see them, they are too busy with your folks. How am I supposed to fit into their schedule?” I explained that they hadn’t seen grandma for four months, but that they would be available on Tuesday afternoon.
What I wanted to say was, “I asked you, 11 years ago, to make Will a priority. That’s one helluva ‘To-Do List” you’ve got there. You’re just now getting around to making them a priority?”
Three hours into Tuesday’s visit, I walked out to the front yard with my new spine-enhanced posture and said, “We need to cap these visits at three hours. I don’t like being held hostage in my own house.” He sarcastically said, “I would love to have these visits at my house.” I reminded him that the visits at his house would be three hours in length (no over-nighters) and would include both kids at the same time. He frickin’ asked me why the kids wouldn’t be allowed to spend the night. Continue reading →
a dream… Every so often, one of us would lose grip on our side of the table, and the legs would scrape against the sidewalk. The scraping sound seemed to echo in this warm, starlit night. It was close to midnight, and there wasn’t a hint of a breeze. I found myself wishing for a wind that would muffle the sounds of our shuffling and scraping. The three of us were carrying a large picnic table from house to house, sneaking into garages, trying to find a can of paint.
We were on a frantic mission to get this beat up old table painted. And we were scared to death of getting caught. I kept whispering encouragement. Jenny was crying and pleading to go home. Will’s eyes were doing that nervous tic/blinking thing, but he was not going to give up. If I said we needed to paint this damn table, then he was going to help me get it done.
We’d drag our table into a garage and quickly scan the shelves for a can of paint. My heart was racing, I was breathing hard, and I was terrified that we’d wake someone and get caught on our mission. I kept looking at Will and Jenny, trying to gauge how much longer I’d be able to get them to help. My panic was made worse by the fact that I knew I shouldn’t be forcing my kids to do this. I knew that a good mom wouldn’t put her kids in such a precarious situation. They were doing as I told them to do. They were frightened and exhausted.
After we left the fourth garage, without a can of paint, I woke up.
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Jenny got off the phone, raked her fingers through her hair (just like I do when I’m stressed) and she gasped, “Why do I have to be so nice? Why can’t I tell him that he uses the voice?”
And the cycle continues…
Mark asked her if he used the voice with her; she denied it because her knee-jerk is to be nice and compliant; and he thinks I’m feeding him crap about the kids and their reactions to his visits.
And then it hit me.
I AM IN CHARGE. I am the grown up here. Such that I am. Continue reading →
Dear friends,
I want to write something positive. I want to inspire. I want to get my head above water. I need to regroup. I will write once I find a porthole.
In the meantime, my mom sent me something that is particularly appropriate. I hope you laugh. We can always make some room for a chuckle.
A Doctor was addressing a large audience in Tampa. ‘The material we put into our stomachs is enough to have killed most of us sitting here, years ago. Continue reading →
“And that is another great example of how there are so many different ways to make a living.” My grandfather used to say that. He’d had his share of different careers – mechanic, draftsman, lumber yard manager and more that I can’t remember. We’d be playing Yahtzee, visiting about someone we both knew, and he’d marvel at how the world was changing and people were finding new and interesting ways to make a living.
Today the kids and I got to see a way of life that hasn’t changed much. A dear friend invited us to see what goes on during lambing. It was 39 degrees with low gray clouds that just started to release snow when we pulled up to the old barn. There were sheep everywhere, and lambs anywhere from two minutes old to a couple days old.
I wasn’t sure how Jen and Will would take to the whole thing. It was cold and muddy and smelly and wet.
They jumped right in.
They could hardly wait to scoop up these newborn lambs. They got to bottle feed the bum lambs – the ones that are rejected by their moms. It requires a thick skin to do this for a living – you can’t possibly save all the rejected lambs. I thought we’d end up with a car full of new pets. It can be cruel, but the process is so labor-intensive and exhausting, that it doesn’t leave much time for tears over the sickly ones. Continue reading →
Phyllis,
Congratulations on your Independence Day.
You are amazing!!!
sending hugs and bouquets …
Will looked at me and said, “I can’t get dis futtin’ thing open!” Stupidly, I said, “What did you just say?” Then his chubby little fingers handed me his juice pouch while his humongous brown eyes peered through his Harry Potter glasses, and he frustratedly said, “Mom! I can’t get dis futtin’ thing open!”
We were surrounded by little preschoolers, their adoring parents and the preschool teacher. It was just a few days after a couple parents approached me about the possibility of my taking the position of President of our little parent-run preschool. I grabbed Will’s juice pouch, muttered something under my breath while looking down so that none of them would notice that I was blushing, poked the straw in the pouch, and was squirted with a steady stream of sugary apple juice – my payment for being a ‘bad’ mommy.
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I try to work on my language. I think I’m making progress. I never have been convinced that saying bad words is any kind of an indication of a character flaw. However, with two little people that parrot everything I do and say, it behooves me to rein in on the language a bit.
While I do release the occasional f-bomb, I don’t direct it at others. Continue reading →
Yesterday I received an email from Phyllis. She’s facing a difficult weekend. This would be a wonderful time to send a bunch of good words her way. She is not yet divorced, but her husband has been living in a different town. Today he is due to come by her house. I can hear apprehension in her email.
If you’ve been reading this blog, you have read a bit about Phyllis. She is an absolute dear, and a brave woman. Her Independence Day is April 5th – the one year anniversary of leaving her narcissistic husband. It has not been easy. She has doubted her decision many times.
Phyllis has a marvelous sense of humor, so if mushy isn’t your thing, send her a funny quote or a joke. If you’ve never commented before, this is a great time to do so. Send some good words to Phyllis. You’ll bolster her on this difficult journey, and you’ll see how sending kind words to someone else ends up making you feel better, too.
Phyllis has a son and a daughter who are a tremendous support for her. But, this weekend she could use all the encouragement she can get. Please think about sending a couple kind words to Phyllis, in the comment section below.
Do you remember the classic “Far Side” cartoon by Gary Larson that has the funky woman talking a blue streak to her dog, and it shows what the dog hears? The dog only hears, “blah blah blah blah, Ginger. blah blah blah blah, Ginger.” It’s 2:30 and I can’t sleep. I got up to write and was greeted by a 1500 word email that was written by Mark.
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At the risk of further cementing my membership in the loosely knit Association of Homeschooling Weirdos, I have to tell you what I most love about this homeschooling business. There is nothing quite like being there when they first grasp a concept. I get to be there when that light bulb goes off, and they understand what’s in front of them, and they are filled with pride and possibility. It’s like the looks on their faces when they learn to tie their shoes or ride a bike. It’s something I don’t want to miss.
A few weeks ago, I was helping Will with fractions. I love math. I love the fluidity and fuzzy boundaries of dealing with people and relationships. But when I’m in over my head with that relationship crap, I like to turn to something certain, like math. Even Will says he likes math because, “There’s one right answer.” Sometimes it’s nice to know there is ONE right answer. So we were adding different fractions with different denominators and I was explaining that you have to “get the fractions speaking in the same language – in the same denominator.” I have a decent understanding of what their learning styles are, and what approaches work best for helping them learn. But, I was having a bit of a struggle with the fractions. I put my pencil down, walked out into the living room to take a deep breath, and figure out a new approach, and I came back with a new angle. Suddenly the light bulb went off, and he whizzed through the rest of the exercise. It was fun for both of us. We found a common language, and it was a thing of beauty.
NEWS FLASH: There is NO common language with a narcissist. Continue reading →
Last week when we were struggling, Pat sent me some timely reminders, which points to the fact that this blog is becoming a communal effort. I hope others are benefiting as much as the three of us.
The first is actually from a link on my site.
…do not expect them (narcissists) to show the slightest interest in you or your life (or even in why you’re bothering with them at all), do not expect them to be able to do anything that you need or want, do not expect them to apologize or make amends or show any consideration for your feelings…
I don’t think I’ve written a single post that demonstrates Mark’s interest in the kids. It’s pretty clear that he expects them to be a source for his narcissism, and so he’ll feign interest to secure that source. But that interest isn’t genuine, and is subject to withdrawal should the kids fail to meet his standards or stop providing the consistent source that he needs. At one point, when I was still trying to facilitate the kids’ relationship with Mark, he reminded me that, “He just doesn’t like to be around people that don’t like him.” None of us is comfortable hanging where we feel we aren’t liked. He just requires a greater deal of liking than the rest of us. He requires that we like him above all other things. And he won’t stick around unless he feels he’s liked more than anything else.
Incidentally, the kids haven’t heard from Mark since the fabulous skiing episode. Apparently they didn’t like him enough after that adventure. And as I write this, they are both putzing around the house singing, “Busy Being Fabulous“, by the Eagles. I don’t make this stuff up. I swear. Continue reading →
“Due to lack of interest, tomorrow has been canceled.” My mom had a cartoon, with that caption, pinned to the bulletin board in the kitchen. I was old enough to read, and I’d look at that and I thought it was real. I really thought that if we weren’t interested in anything, the world would end. My mom was interested in her job, and keeping the house together. I was interested in Barbies and having tea parties. My brother was interested in Hot Wheels and shooting gophers. I guess I figured we were doing our parts. But that damn cartoon kept me up a lot of nights. Could tomorrow really be canceled? How do we keep that from happening? Maybe that’s why I’m interested (some might call me nosey) in other people and their lives. I’m hoping that if I’m interested enough, tomorrow won’t be canceled.
After a fabulous day in the sunshine, skiing with two amazing people who picked me to be their mom, I came to a conclusion. We are beyond absolutely fine. We thrive on not having to deal with Mark. In fact, we flourish.
This is where I am, right at this moment:
“Due to lack of interest*, tomorrow** has been canceled.”
* Mark’s lack of interest in Jenny and Will Continue reading →
