* Heads up, y’all, I’m venting in this post and it’s long. Sorry about that. Y’all know me. I’ve tried to whittle it down and it just keeps growing. So, I’m going to stop editing now. *
** Also, this is a post about motherfuckers. I know a few, including but not limited to my dad and people who have been false friends over the years.**
*** Also, this is kind of raw and intense. My daughter, who read this, thought that those who are sensitive should be made aware because it isn’t a fun read and might be triggering for some. Also, she thought everyone, even those who aren’t as sensitive as some should be made aware.***
**** Also, this is therapy for me. I’m getting this out of my system. I understand if you don’t want to read this. Read at your discretion.****
*****Lastly, before I start this, Mailchimp didn’t send out a notice for my last post. I’m not sure it will with this post either. I believe a lot of my Wayward Friends may not even be aware I’ve put new posts out since last June. What else is new! But a huge thanks for all who looked me up and commented despite Mailchimp’s oversight/s. *sigh* *****
In my last post, I said I’d talk about my Dad’s itchy problem on this post. It was going to be funny or at least amusing but full of compassion. That’s not going to happen. I’m finding it difficult to publish anything kind or funny about Dad at the moment because he told me on Saturday that it’s too bad that I don’t believe in God enough or in miracles enough because my son needs a miracle (Ry has autism), but he won’t get one because I don’t believe — enough.
Dad’s been at our home for one week today. Before that he was in a rehab close to our home for a week. He was transferred there by the hospital that’s closer to his home. Being closer to my home allowed me to visit him every day while he was in rehab. Before that, he was in the hospital for close to two weeks and I only got to see him twice. Three times if I count the fact that I took him to the hospital.
When that happened, I picked Dad up from his house and took him straight to the ER. He’d called me with, “I’m sick and need help.” I dropped everything and went directly to him. When I got to his house, he could barely walk. Turned out he’d been sick for several days and hadn’t eaten in the last two!
Details about EVERYTHING aren’t going to make it on my blog because it’s much too much in emotional intensity and in all of the stuff that’s transpired since I took him to the ER. Suffice it to say, though, Dad’s not been fun to be around. Matter of fact, he’s been an asshole every single day this past week. This past Saturday is when he said what he said to me about not believing enough. Apparently, it’s my fault that my son isn’t cured from autism. *eye roll*
I spent most of Sunday in my bedroom.
Reading. And not being around my Dad. Thinking, too. And wishing I could cry because of the way my Dad’s acting.
I hate that he’s been soooooo asshole-y-ish. It’s one of those really weird moments where I’d like there to be a good reason why he’s acting that way other than just because he’s bored and not getting his way, but then I feel ashamed for thinking this. Because if he were acting like this because he had a brain tumor or something equally awful was going on with him, that would be the worst. So, I guess if he’s going to be an asshole, I’m thankful it’s because he has a choice and not because of a brain tumor or some other awful thing that isn’t giving him a choice but is forcing him to be an asshole? Does that even sound right? Because either way seems awful to me.
What I know is that I love my Dad very much even if I’m finding it difficult to like him right now.
Also, I will say that some people think they can say whatever hateful thing they want to me. *smh*
If someone (including my dad) wants to say something to me or about me or about my family that is shitty, like really shitty, they better make it worth it because once they say certain things to me, they usually don’t get another chance. At this point, my Dad will probably get another chance to continue to be an asshole toward me and say more awful things, but that’s only because he’s my dad. Also, I hope he doesn’t have anything really wrong with him. And now I’m worried there is, but I’m digressing.
And, also, why should someone who is taking their bullshit out on someone else get another chance?
(That’s rhetorical, btw. Please don’t feel the need to answer this unless you’re the person or persons who’ve said shitty things to me this year or the years before this year. And I’m not talking about my Dad at this point. If you are the person or persons who have said shitty things to me, then you should try and answer that question but only to yourself. Or someone else. Not to me, though. I don’t want to hear it and, frankly, I could care less. But ask yourself, why should I or anyone else you have been shitty towards give you the opportunity to say anything else once you’ve said the shitty thing/s you’ve said? Is it so you can say you’re sorry and then say shitty things all over again? That’s not gonna happen with me.)
Why would you think I or really anyone you’ve been nasty to would ever even want to hear from you again?
It’s not about forgiveness either.
As far as I’m concerned, whatever is eating someone that’s caused them to say shitty things to me has damned little to do with me. That’s between them and their maker regarding their own insecurities or crazy or malevolence. Also, I’m not their whipping post, their religious leader, their doctor or their therapist.
I only say that because in the past, a few kind people have suggested that I forgive those who do and say bullshit things to me, “Forgiveness isn’t about them, Mona, it’s about you! Forgiveness helps YOU!” OR “If you expect to be forgiven, you need to learn to forgive others.”
Trust me, I’ve been cut to the quick by way too many throughout my life, so I know this and I do forgive these motherfuckers. I don’t want anything bad to happen to anyone nor do I wish ill on anyone. I hope all the motherfuckers out there have great lives — just not with me in it. Because life really is too short and I have better things to do than to hang around people who are false friends or be around relatives who are — you know — going to act shitty.
Also, motherfuckers are motherfuckers and forgiving them doesn’t change that.
Nor is it my place to try and change anyone. That’s just a fool’s errand and impossible, btw. No one changes anyone else. A person only changes when they want to change for their own reasons, which may or may not be selfish. Either way, you can’t do it for them. If I could change people, though, I’d change a few into the toads they are. Oh well. You know what they say about wishes and horses.
So, if someone is going to act like a motherfucker to me or someone I love and care about including saying anything awful about my dad, then that’s what I call them. (Because I can say what’s awful about my dad because he’s my dad, but other people who aren’t close family members aren’t allowed to or else they’d be talking shit about someone I love and care about (again, my dad) and then they would become the motherfucker; and I so don’t want that to happen even if what they said about Dad is just because they care about me and are trying to make me feel better!)
I get that this is all very confusing and fucked up, btw, but I hope I’m making some kind of sense. If not, I apologize.
Also, this is why children of narcissists can become so fucked up as adults. I speak from experience about being fucked up, even though my dad has never been formally diagnosed.
Anyway, I’m probably going to talk about these motherfuckers, who I’ve forgiven, to anyone who will listen. It’s called “venting.” I’ll probably write about them as well. That’s called “writing therapy.” So if you don’t want me talking or writing about what you did or said that makes you a motherfucker to me, then don’t say or do it in front of me or tell anyone that we mutually know if you don’t want me to know. Because people tell me things. Clearly.
Also, it’s not that difficult to not be an asshole or a motherfucker.
Lastly, don’t do something or say something that you’ll regret and then come back later and ask me not to tell anyone about it. It isn’t my fault if you’re the one who’s ashamed of what you said or did and you now want me to keep what you said or did secret so others won’t know who you really are. Just because you’re trying to keep up appearances — that has nothing to do with me. Besides, what kind of messed up bullshit is that?
People sometimes confuse forgiveness with giving someone a second chance.
For whatever it’s worth, I believe in second, third, fourth and fifth chances. Even more than that sometimes. Like with my dad. Also, I do treat others the way I would like to be treated. And I’m not going to ask for forgiveness if I’m not willing to forgive. Also, I’m always needing to be forgiven for something or another and I do forgive. So there’s that.
Matter of fact, when I draw a line in the sand (because everyone needs boundaries, y’all) that line is usually pretty wide and deep and long. Someone has to actively work hard in order to cross that line with me. So when I cut someone out of my life (because I have and will cut motherfuckers out of my life), it’s not because someone made a simple mistake once, twice or even three times. It’s because this person has actively worked hard to be cut out of my life.
Said person may act surprised when that actually happens, but they know what they’ve said and done. And if they really don’t, then they have a problem recognizing how they treat people, namely me or my loved one. My guess, though, is that they treat others this way, too. Might I suggest a decent therapist and the hard, personal work it takes to overcome their brand of bullshit that’s gotten them where they are. Or not. Again, just stay the fuck away from me.
So if they want, they can forgive me for cutting them out of my life. Or not. Because I’ve moved on. I’m not going to pretend someone is my friend or that I like someone when they’ve been an asshole to me or my loved ones and they don’t even know how to say they’re sorry because when they’ve attempted to, if that’s truly been their intent, it’s come across as disingenuous.
For me, it’s about staying the fuck away from those who are ignorantly cruel or just mean-spirited.
And yet, I’d like to believe that people are mostly good.
And they usually are. It amazes me, though, how some people will go out of their way to show me their dark side as though I’d want to see that. I tell them I don’t and — what-the-hell! They do it anyway.
It’s when someone gets truly disrespectful, abusive and/or nasty — that’s where I draw the line.
The thing is, some people want to remain pathologically ignorant. Or, sometimes, some are so adamant that they are right and others are wrong. What they do is cringeworthy over and over again. Are they wanting to continue to stay this way so they can continue to be hurtful even when they’ve had ample opportunity to learn better, be better, act better, do better, think better, know better? And “better” hardly means perfect. Whatever is driving their crazy, it rears its ugly head and they continue to hurt others because they’re hurting and they don’t know what to do about their hurt other than to hurt others, so this is what they do again and again.
None of it makes good sense to me to act like this. I mean, sometimes, it’s obvious why someone’s acting out, but not always.
Also, it’s not necessary to always know why someone’s acting out in the way they are, provided they’re adults who aren’t mentally impaired in some way. Trying to figure out someone else’s crazy, though, especially when they consistently act this way, can actually drive you crazy. It’s not worth it.
That’s why I don’t do that anymore and haven’t in a long time.
I just recognize crazy for what it is, then either I get the hell away from it (and them) or I do whatever I have to do to not get pulled into their drama. (Btw, if y’all haven’t figured this out yet, I’m not specifically referring to just my dad at this point, but I am referring to him as well!)
The thing about those who are out-and-out narcissists or who display narcissistic tendencies but who haven’t been formally diagnosed or those who have other untreated personality disorders is that they often don’t recognize what they’re doing; yet, they keep making themselves and others around them miserable or uncomfortable, all the while telling themselves that it’s everyone else who’s creating the bullshit. That’s incredibly sad.
BTW, David told me that was what my dad was last Saturday when I told him what Dad said to me about Ryan.
David told me, “Your Dad is SAD. ‘S’ stands for selfish; ‘A’ stands for arrogant; and ‘D’ stands for demanding.”
And this is just one more reason I love David. Because he’s stood by me and stood up for me several times this past week when Dad has deftly wielded his own abusive brand of bullshit and craziness towards me. And it’s not like I just sit there and take his abuse. That’s not me at all. But when a narcissist (formally diagnosed or not) doesn’t get what they want when they want it, they can get progressively nasty. They have no qualms about hurting someone with cruel remarks or just going out of their way to take the joy out of life to punish the person who isn’t giving into their demands.
At present, (it’s Monday when I’m writing this) we’ve had a weak cool front come through our area in North Central Texas. It’s supposed to stay right around or under 100 degrees Monday through Wednesday. Therefore, David and Ry have taken my Dad back to his home. David’s made sure Dad’s air conditioner is on. Most importantly, Dad seems physically well enough to take care of himself over the next few days. Even so, Dad’s supposed to be back on Wednesday in his own truck so I can take him to a doctor’s appointment in the Dallas area. At that point, we’ll determine whether he’ll continue to stay with us or whether he’ll go back to his house. A lot depends on what the doctor says, I suppose.
Now, however, I just want to cry.
It’s not going to happen, though, because it takes an extraordinary amount to make me cry at this point in my life. Also, I have to feel very safe to be that vulnerable. I wish my therapist were still around — not that I’d have the money to see him even if he were. In the past, all my therapist would have to do is look at me with compassion and ask me what was wrong and — waterworks! It’s because his office was a safe place and he was caring and compassionate and I trusted him. I miss him very much!
And that’s not to say that my immediate family isn’t caring and compassionate. They are. It’s just different. So, somehow, I need to find a way to cry or else the stress and tension I’ve endured — that my entire family has endured this past week — is going to affect my body/my health in some way, shape or form. When my stress levels get really bad, it always does. Right now it feels really bad. I’m concerned my back will go out or my hives will return even though I’m on heavy duty meds for that. I don’t even want to think about the really, really bad shit that stress can do when you don’t deal with it appropriately. Hence, I’m writing about it, which helps. But a good cry would help more.
I’ve already dealt with Lauren’s stress and Ryan’s to the extent that I can be of help. I’m very good with back scratches and shoulder massages and they’ve both had them. We’ve all laughed about silly stuff. Also, I’ve played a ton of cards and Yahtzee with Ryan. They’ve all had their say about their grandfather staying with us. So, I think my kids are better. Also, Lauren just got home from work and said, “It feels lighter and much less tense in here. What gives?” Then she realized her grandpa was gone. And that makes me sad, too, because that’s not how I want my kids to think about their grandpa and that’s not how I want to think about my dad.
David and Dad came to near blows last week, which may have gotten a lot of stress out for both of them. Suffice it to say that neither likes the other and each made that abundantly clear to the other with VERY LOUD AND DISRESPECTFULLY OBSCENE WORDS. Of course, Dad has had VERY LOUD WORDS with just about everyone he’s come across this week. Trust me, I’ve taken him out every day this week except Sunday, so I’m seeing a lot of this firsthand. David took Dad to the pharmacy on Sunday instead of my taking him (and despite their words earlier in the week) and Dad had VERY LOUD WORDS with the pharmacist, too. Unfortunately, all of this has only added to my stress. Also, I know I’m stressed because my shoulders are almost up to my ears, and I have to keep forcing them back down.
STAY DOWN, SHOULDERS! SERIOUSLY!
I just need a good cry and I need to figure out a way to let go of what my dad said to me. I’ll catch his words echoing in my brain during moments of stillness and that’s really not healthy.
It’s not that I believe a word of what Dad said. It’s the sheer cruelty of what he said and why he said it. I know. It’s his crazy rearing its ugly head. Still, I’m his only daughter, and I’ve tried to do what I can to help him through his latest health crisis. Also, the different crises he’s had over the last almost seven years since Mom’s died. You’d have thought that would have counted for something. Apparently, not. Also, I’m re-reminded that there’s a reason why my brothers have damned little to do with Dad. One has completely written Dad out of his life. The other lives far away and rarely talks to or sees Dad.
If I want, I’m sure I can make enough excuses for all of the stress and bullshit my dad has caused this past week. There’s been a lot. As I said above, I’ve already forgiven him. But I need to not excuse away what he’s said and done. That’s sometimes hard to remember when he’s scared, sick, lonely, helpless and crying at 88 years old. When he’s like that, I want to just forgive and forget. I want to remember the best in my dad. I want to comfort him. So, yeah, I need to remember this past month, really, for a lot of reasons, most of all so I’m never blindsided by him — or others — again.
Okay, I just read that last line and laughed because — as if I could never be blindsided by him or anyone else again.
That’s just my foolish crazy talking.
David and Ryan returned about an hour ago from dropping Dad off. Now Dad’s called me and accused David of taking the keys to his truck. WTF! First of all, that isn’t my husband’s style. Secondly, David isn’t about to take my Dad’s keys because that would mean I’d have to pick Dad up tomorrow to go to his doctor’s appointment in the town where he lives, which is a solid hour away from where we live. So even if David were tempted, he simply wouldn’t. David is nothing if not practical. My guess is that Dad’s keys are somewhere in his hoarded house.
Also, why do I think I’m now going to have to take Dad to his doctor’s appointment tomorrow?
I’ve been reading some blogs recently that have emphasized that which is positive and good and you know, all the stuff that I’m not really focused on right now.
So, instead of leaving you with such a negative, I’m going to say a few positive things I’m grateful for to counteract some of the stress. If you’d like, please let me know what you are grateful for or provide a positive if you want. Or, if you feel the need to get something stressful off of your mind, here’s also a good place to do that! Whatever works for you cuz that’s how we roll on this blog!
- I’m grateful that I still have my Dad. As long as he’s on this Earth, there is hope he and I can do better for each other.
- I’m incredibly thankful for Lauren, Ryan and David!
- I’m thankful for my blogger friends and my IRL friends, too! Y’all mean the world to me!
- I’m thankful I have the ability to write.
- I’m grateful that we have a roof over our heads, food to eat, good music to listen to and good neighbors.
I can’t wait to read what you write!
And now Music to match my attitudinal mood —