Happy New Year

The holidays actually went rather well.
My mom was in a surprisingly good mood, the likes of which I haven't really seen before. It's tempting to think that maybe she's on some sort of medication too, but I know that really isn't likely. I think it has more to do with the fact that she is still nursing a grudge against my brother and his family, so she is nice to me right now, because she's smart enough not to alienate every member of her family all at once.

But as for me... I am feeling the kind of peace, and dare I say?,  happiness that I only remember feeling with my husband on vacations thousands of miles away from my family.

We are all reveling in my lack of irritation, and the focus I am able to give my son.

Which brings me to a crucial decision:

I'm going to take a break from blogging. Really I've been slacking off for a while now, but it's become clear that I have to shift focus away from blogging about my son. He's become way too computer savvy and I just don't think I want him reading this.

But also? Now for the first time in a long time, I am able to sit down and play (really play) with him. Without being freaked out by what else I should be doing. I am able to fully engage with him. And I intend to make as much space for that as possible, because he's already 8, and soon enough he won't want to hang out with me.

So I'm going to hang-back for a little while and enjoy my medicated self. I have a feeling that even though 2009 is going to suck financially, personally it's going to be great.

Happy New Year everyone!

So neglectful

of me.

With Thanksgiving over, I intended to jump right back in, but my last doctor's appointment found me with a prescription in hand for a Generalized Anxiety Disorder medication. It wasn't what i thought I wanted or what I thought I needed, but this doctor of mine - he knows his stuff.

I started last Saturday, and frankly I've been kind of blown away by the subtle, yet huge tectonic shift that has happened in my brain and my body.

I didn't want to jinx it by writing about it too soon, but things keep moving in a positive direction so I think I'll uncross my fingers long enough to type.

I've written before about how my normal state of being is a constant thrum of vibration. When that vibration went away, so did my low blood sugar episodes and my need to pass out comatose every afternoon.

I had no idea how much energy it took to be nervous all the time. And here's the other thing, I had no idea how anxious I really was.

Life just doesn't seem so hard right now.

Weird.

Even the holidays, which usually have me dancing on the edge of a cliff, seem manageable.

I'm a happier mom, and a nicer wife.

(I never, never, never thought I could handle being medicated. Never. I just thought I had to work harder at being a better person.)

I'm a little sad that I didn't do this years ago, when my son was smaller, but I'm hopeful that he doesn't remember any of that anyway.

I never thought I would ever be able to have peace within myself. I sure as hell never thought that peace could come from a pill.

Thanks Dr. F.

When sensory overload is cute

OMG I am so damn old.

The concert was great. I had a wonderful time.

Daniel enjoyed the opening act and made it through maybe 2 songs from The Decemberists and then fell fast asleep. Not just drifting off mind you, but knocked out cold. Just when the music volume amped up.

My husband and I have differing views on this.

He thinks that Daniel did a great job and isn't it cute that he fell asleep in the middle of a concert.

And he's right on both counts.

But the other side of it is that Daniel stays up way later on a typical school night, can stay up till 11 easily, and here he fell asleep as the clock struck 9.

It has all the markings of sensory overload to me.

On the other hand, he just fell asleep, he didn't scream or cry or flip out or have to leave.

So.... Progress!

Oh and did I mention how old I am? We sat up in the balcony with all the other old folks and watched all the tweens and twenties standing on the floor below. It made me remember all the shows I went to in my youth back in the days of analog video. Back when people held up lighters instead of cell phones, and smoking was legal in theaters. It's a wonder we didn't all burst into flames.

I'm really glad we went. Daniel doesn't seem to care that he fell asleep and missed all his favorite songs, but then he's 8, and I don't think he gets the distinction of live vs recorded music yet. Plus, with any luck he'll be able to see what he missed on YouTube.

Beating down our sensory consternation

Today, or tonight rather, we take Daniel to his first concert.

At least the first one that isn't on a Sunday afternoon and filled with knee-high fans using sippy-cups.

We're going to see the Decemberists, all three of us.

I wrote a note to the school that he'll be out tomorrow. Sleeping off the excitement...hopefully.

We know the risks.

We bought the earplugs.

And the safety earmuffs.

There's no guarantee that we'll even make it through the opening act. But the prospect of hearing
"The Apology Song" or "The Mariner's Revenge" might just be enough incentive to stick it through to the end. That, or maybe just the lure of staying up all night.

I'm excited at the possibility that this wacky idea might work. I mean auditory sensitivity isn't Daniel's biggest issue, at least not one that impacts us on a daily basis, but when you couple it with a large crowd, wacky lights, and staying up past bedtime... well, that certainly seems like a recipe for disaster.

And this is the point that I'm making very awkwardly - we are still going through with it!

We are all older, bigger, more mature, and either more fool-hardy or more certain that there is a chance of success here.

I feel like we (all three of us) are building a ladder, or a scaffold as a friend of mine used to say, creating experiences, and memories for Daniel, that teach him that he can do it, that he doesn't have to let his anxiety, or his sensory issues hold him back. Each experience gets him a little closer to his peers. And look!

We managed The Blue Man Group!

We did Broadway!

He went Trick-or-Treating for well over an hour!

I have high hopes for us.

We are all growing up.

Oh,
and.... good work last Tuesday everybody!

so... the visit

Oh, before I start kvetching about my mom, let me just say that while I thought I was just going in for a "consultation" with the doctor, I actually ended up having an EKG. I made the mistake of mentioning that I hadn't been to the doctor in a VERY long time and now he has ordered what appears to be every single test that is available in New Jersey at this time. I'm hoping that he's just ruling out any medical reason for high-anxiety, but  we'll see what the outcome of all this testing is.

(Seriously, I had 6 vials of blood drawn today, I have a stress test on Friday and next week I've got a bone density test, a breathing test, an echocardiogram, and an abdominal ultrasound. I mean.... REALLY)

Ok, back to my parent's visit:

The week before they came I started taking my "little friend" everyday, which made everybody happy. No, really my husband even commented on how much of a bitch I WASN'T being. Not only that, I was a much calmer mother to my son, not crabby at all. So the build up to their visit was certainly as frantic as usual, but not nearly as gut-wrenching.

My brother and his family came early and it was nice to spend time with them without my parents around. Everytime I see my brother, he's usually being an asshole to his wife, but it turns out that everytime I see my brother, my parents are there. Which is to say that he was actually pretty well behaved before my parents arrived. And he's also a dad now too, so that might be a factor as well.

But as soon as my parents arrived my brother became the bratty 12-year old and my mother started rolling her eyes and mouthing obnoxious remarks about my sister-in-law. She's mad at them, and she made that fact known abundantly.

I tried very hard to stay in the middle of the action as much as possible, because as soon as I was alone she would come up to me and bad-mouth my sister-in-law. It was awful to listen to, but the drugs helped. She also had a crying jag outside because she was not allowed to dominate every conversation.

It could have been worse. I might have been worse actually, but I didn't notice because I was too busy being calm.

.

Oh and my kid? Was awesome. No sensory issue meltdowns, and he was very sweet with his baby cousin.

I'm just very happy it's all over.

I forgot how to write

Well, not really, but I got out of the habit of sitting down and making time for writing.

I'm still here.

I'm going to my doctor's appointment in a few minutes.

Actually, they are calling it a "consultation". So I'm trying to convince myself that it will be much easier than an actual "visit", and thus I have no reason to worry.

I'm not actually believing myself though, and I am very worried.

One might even say "anxious". Which might just bolster my plea for anxiety medication.

It's bizarre in a way that I have this fear that the Dr. won't give them to me. Aren't Americans completely over-medicated? Everyone I talk to is on something.

But as my mom has been wont to tell me, "That may be fine for some people, but not for you."

I believe she was talking about being able to switch jobs/ careers, but I think it still fits.

You know, as in - you don't deserve to feel good about yourself.

And now I'm getting anxious that I'm going to be late for my "consultation", so I'll fill you in later on how that parental visit went and all the other craziness around here.

lessons learned from TV

Way back in '94 I moved down to Greenwich Village to share an apartment with  Howard, my then fiance. We were both in grad school, and our apartment was a fifth floor walk-up in the heart of the Village. 

Such a small space.

With three large windows, and no cross-breeze.

It got so very hot in that apartment. I can appreciate that heat now, sitting in my cold house wrapped in sweater and slippers. But back then walking up the five flights to the apartment was like performing a strip-tease. By the time we reached the door I was down to a tank top and shorts and bare feet, no matter how cold it was outside.

Moving in with my fiance stirred up some issues for me that I didn't even know I had. For instance it was really important to me that the apartment be clean, all the time. Which is really weird, because I'm fairly slovenly and quite lazy. So the end result of this new NEED of mine was that I was a tremendous cranky bitch all the time.

At some point, probably when Howard realized just how enormous a mistake he had made by proposing to me,  he told me that he didn't expect me to keep everything neat and tidy. 

It was one of those "huh" moments for me. Because if I wasn't doing it for him, then where was this maniacal urge coming from?

After years of contemplating, I finally figured it out. It came from my fictitious childhood. You know, the one that involved June Cleavor and Laura Petrie and Mrs. Cunningham? Except that by trying to recreate the calm and clean homes of TV I was acting like my own mother, who also kept a spotlessly clean home, but was never calm or smiling.

I've nearly gotten over my hang-ups about having a clean house.

But in the same way that I had wanted to conform to this TV ideal, I now see myself longing for the same notion of "normalcy" in my son. Taking him to school in the morning, imagining that the other children don't deal with the anxiety or other hang-ups that are part of our routine. Imagining that somehow, their lives are easier because of this.

Except that, just like with June Cleavor, the idea that a child can "act normal" is simply a social construct. There isn't a "normal" person in my whole family.  My husband and I are both odd-balls, so it is only natural for Daniel to be odd as well.

And even though there are things that Daniel does that I would like to change, I think in my heart it is his "odd-ness" that I love the most.

Maybe I just need to start watching some differnt TV shows... or stop watching TV altogether.

Three things

Thing one:

I had a nice visit with my friend. And now it's over.

It's hard to have friends that live so far away, and yet it seems like that's a real pattern in our lives.

Although.... now that we have the house, it is so much easier to have house guests, which means that we get to spend more time just hanging out, instead of having quick, intense, activity-laden visits.

I miss her.

I miss knowing that she was just a few miles away, and if I needed her or she needed me, we could get together pretty easily.

But I liked having her here for a few days.

I can't wait until we do it again.

Thing two:

I'd like to keep the drama in my life down to a minimum this Fall. But if I succeed, maybe I won't have anything to write about?

As if I could actually keep the drama down just by willing it so!

funny.

Thing two point five:

My parents are away right now, and that always makes me feel like I could possibly have a normal life. But then they always come back.

They must be busy, because my mother usually makes it a point to call me during her vacations and tell me in detail what she has eaten at every meal. What it looked liked, how it tasted, how nice, negligent, rude the waiters were, and how much it cost.

So far no phone calls. I hope I haven't jinxed it.

And might I say a hearty hallelujah that she only does that during her vacations. Because each of those food-obsessed phone calls makes just a few of my brain cells wither up and die.

Thing three:

This weekend I am going to bake, (from scratch!) cupcakes for a birthday party. I know, I know, cupcakes are so easy, all of you with the domestic know-how say.

But I am not what they call a"baker", or a "cook".

I am able to open boxes and cans and heat the contents to the recommended temperature...usually.

But the bakery I used last year that made such delicious lemonade cupcakes has closed down, and the only other bakery I like charges $3.50 per cupcake.

That's $70 for cupcakes for 20 kids.

That's nearly a day's salary for me....for cupcakes.

Poverty is the mother of... uh... baking?

I can make 30 cupcakes out of stuff I already have in my cabinet. That's practically free! Plus I get to lick the frosting spoon until my eyes roll back in my head from sugar overload.

So I'm going to attempt to make my own lemonade cupcakes with lemon frosting this Saturday. In my own kitchen in my own house. And they will be organic and delicious and I will not drop them on the way to the party.

The end.

You are all very sweet...

What I didn't say yesterday, was how I've always had anxiety issues, and whether it is nature or nurture I don't know, but the fact of the matter is that I have always been "hooked-up funny".

All the women in my family take anti-anxiety meds, except for my mother who likes to use her anxiety as a tool to make others miserable.

I don't know why yesterday was such an over-the-top day for me. I don't really know why my panic attack mode went on infinite-loop. I've dealt with eye-twitches and stomach-issues and head-aches that go on and on because of my anxiety, but the racing heart and jitteriness doesn't usually last all day long.

Of course, if you have symptoms caused by anxiety, and those symptoms start to freak you out and make you more anxious... well, I'm sure you can figure out the rest.

All this is my way of taking a really long time to say thank you.

Thank you for the comments, and the emails, and the calls.

I am much much better today.

I found a doctor.

I will keep the appointment. (although I will be really really anxious before I go)

My appointment is in just about a month, which should give me some time to cut dairy out of my diet and lower my cholesterol for the inevitable blood tests that he's going to want to do, since I am seeing a medical doctor, for an actual physical for the first time in, I don't know? 15 years? I think I might have been in grad school.

But regardless, I don't want to have to tell a medical professional that I have serious reservations about the overuse of cholesterol-lowering drugs and the potential negative side effects on your liver, among other things.

I think it could be AWKWARD.

Especially when I ask for a benzodiazapine in the next breath.

I don't want to look like a hypocrite. I just want to save my liver for the important things... like filtering out tranquilizers.

And here is a picture for my husband, who cares about this sort of thing more than I do, Or maybe it's just because I'm lazy...

photo by rycordell.

In a panic

I can't write today.

I've been trying for hours.

I have to find a doctor.

I haven't had a physical in well over a decade.

And well, It has me completely flipped out.

I'm supposed to be getting everything ready for a house-guest and my son's birthday and eighty-million other things that have my head spinning off into the walls.

I took a pill today.

I did.

I am beyond pills.

Still vibrating with panic.

Over what?

Over nothing. and everything.

Everything, I tell you.

Everything I want to do is making me panic.

Visit from a friend? ....panic
Birthday party for the kids?....panic
Family visiting in 2 1/2 weeks? ......panicpanicpanic
green audit of the house?... panic
looking into solar panels?....panic
rewiring lighting fixtures?....panic
scheduling a doctor's visit?....PANIC

Sometimes I feel better, or at least sillier after I put it all down, today I'm just more jumpy.

But in the 2 hours it has taken me to do this, I did schedule 2 doctor's appointments. But they don't count because I'm going to cancel them tomorrow.

Rambling

Thanks for all the ideas and encouragement about Daniel's clothing issues.

I found a stop-gap solution in the sock department, that appears to be working thus far. Joe Boxer socks, if properly stretched before wearing, have been deemed "OK".

I'm still looking into the bike-gear possibility, but the sizing seems to be too big...I'll keep looking.

My husband hasn't mentioned the sewing machine again, but his sister stepped right up and offered to make a pair of pants for Daniel.

I think she's the one person who could make clothing for Daniel that he would actually wear. Those two have a connection that is amazingly deep especially since they don't get to see each other all that often.

____________________

Last night I introduced Daniel to "Everybody Loves Raymond".
It's an interesting show for a kid who doesn't do that well reading social interactions. There are always a few different layers to the interactions, that it can be hard for him to keep it all straight.
I had to keep pausing the show and explaining what was happening. But he likes it because they say hell and ass a lot.

Unfortunately, I can't pause real-life interactions to explain people's motivations or ulterior-motives to him. And the kids are becoming more sophisticated, which puts Daniel at a disadvantage.
I feel like we have to move beyond "Drake and Josh", and start exploring more intricate social shows.
Any suggestions?

Aargh

Today I drove my son to school crying.

Let me back up for a minute.

Yesterday was a wonderful day.
My first day to myself since school started.
I scored some awesome stuff I needed on clearance at Kmart.
And Daniel was calm and happy in the morning and calm and happy and compliant after school.
He even did his homework without flipping out.

It was all so very good.

But here we are now. Today.

Not good.

He woke up screaming because he needed to wear long pants today instead of shorts.
And it just continued.

Four pairs of pants he tried on. Not one was ok . One was too bunchy. Another one too loose. The third one had an elastic that bothered him.

Twenty minutes wasted just on pants. And we hadn't even gotten to the socks, which have been our biggest bone of contention lately.

As you might remember, my rule for clothes for this school year, is:
"if you try it on and tell me it's ok, then you are obligated to wear it without complaint"

Obviously, there will be complaining. But the point is he has to start "dealing" with some of this.

So there were a great many tears this morning. He's wearing the fourth pair of pants and the same socks he wore yesterday. The pants aren't right and half-way to school he told me the shirt was bothering him too.

It makes a mom want to swear like a sailor.

Argh.

On the way to school I told him, "You know, if there were clothes out there that didn't bother you, I would buy them. I don't want you to be upset by your clothes. But I have looked everywhere, and I just don't know what else to do."

He thought I should keep looking.

I will. Of course.

My husband just IM'ed me saying he'd like to buy a sewing machine. His solution is to make Daniel's clothes. I don't even want to touch that one.

But honey, if you want a sewing machine, go for it. Could you make some curtains for me? Insulated, perhaps?

Daniel has a play date after school today. I'm hoping that the clothes issue will fade into the background as the day goes on. I'm hoping that the play date will distract him.

I'm hoping that gradually he will become somewhat desensitized to the seams and the fabric and all of it.

I'm really hoping that something good will come of this, and I'm not just making him miserable.

not a bunny... but still furry

Daniel has taken the bus since he was in Pre-K.

Back then the teachers practically insisted on it, saying that it would make the transition from home to school easier.

Of course this was a special-ed Pre-K so the teachers were given a status very close to God, seeing as they were going to transform our misfit and "differently-abled" children into what would pass for normal by kindergarten.

So Daniel took the bus.

In Kindergarten he was still classified as special-ed so he got his own bus to and from school. A chariot of sorts with a driver and aide at his disposal. It was like a traveling "Daniel Show" complete with cheering section.

Last year he was de-classified so he took the regular school bus. There were some issues.

Some bigger kids picked on him.

Some tearful days getting off the bus.

But Daniel tells me, that the problems with last year's bus were nothing compared to the bus he takes from our new house.

Daniel spends a lot of time in his head beating himself up. Especially where school is involved. So I'm never really sure how much of the torment he is describing is real.

I guess it doesn't really matter does it? It is real to him.

And I've witnessed some of the neighbor kids interact with him. To say that they don't "get" Daniel would be a gross understatement. Plus some of the kids have reached the age where it is all about picking on the oddball.

We are nothing if not odd around here. All three of us.

So I'm going to be ferrying Daniel to and from school now.

I'm been kind of tough on Daniel lately. Expecting him to do more and complain less. Making him deal with some of his sensory issues instead of accommodating him. And yesterday he was pretty fragile.

It wasn't until bedtime that he explained to me (crying and sniffling and using an entire box of tissues  - Hooray! milestone! He is blowing his nose at 7 1/2!) that I understood why he was not able to deal with things.

The good news... he's only been on the bus a handful of times so far this year.

But I wonder, will his absence make him more of a target on those occasions when he has to ride the bus?

hang up the phone

My brakes work.

I can't tell you how happy I am to be able to say that.

And to the old lady in the Yukon crossing Orange Rd without looking both ways because you were on the PHONE...!

"Honey, if you're going to be like that then at least step on the gas. That way you'll only get almost hit in the back end instead of the driver's side door."

I had a post I was going to write today about the last day of summer vacation and second grade and all that, but I'm shaking uncontrollably, so....

maybe later.

I just got back from buying a living room set from Ikea that was even cheaper than their usual cheap furniture. I'll let you know later if it was a GOOD DEAL or a COLOSSAL MISTAKE.

But now I'm going to have living room furniture that matches, instead of the motley bunch chairs et al we have been living with.

* I was going to post a picture, but all I could find were photos of horrific accidents caused by people on cell phones. I'm going to spare you the images that I just burned into my brain.... next post will have a happy happy little picture... of... a bunny!

school clothes

I've reached the end of my rope.

We've known about Daniel's clothing sensitivities since way before they told about that "thing" called Sensory Integration Disorder.

I learned quickly which clothes soothed him and which one agitated him when he was a baby. He has never been able to wear shirts with appliqués on them. And we make it a habit to take out all tags and turn his socks inside out.

I'm used to it.

And yet.... When this Summer arrived and he refused to wear any shorts but the 2 that he has worn for the last 2 years.... I admit it threw me for a loop.

I thought it was a passing phase. After all, I had just bought him a bunch of shorts, that he had tried on and approved as acceptable. Each and every one had an adjustable waist, to accommodate his thin frame and non-existent back-end.  All washed and put away, only to be pushed aside again and again in favor of the ugly, dirty pair that lay on the floor.

I confronted him. To say that we had an altercation over shorts, is to put it mildly. We have been fighting over shorts, and now clothes in general in knockdown drag-out fights all Summer long.

I gave in. His summer uniform became white t-shirts and those 2 pairs of shorts. I did laundry more often, and I looked the other way when he wore dirty clothes.

We are both bone-tired of fighting about clothes.

For some reason, I thought that he could control how he felt about the clothes. I approached the situation as if it was just a matter of personal taste on his part. Which of course I realize now, on this tenth week of summer vacation, that it is not. He can no more change his sensitivities than I can become an alligator wrestler.

But I am all about the consequences these days, so I told him that because he had approved clothing that I had ordered, just to get me "to leave him alone", then he would have to go to the stores with me and GO SHOPPING FOR CLOTHES.

And he did. We went to store after store. We focused only on the jeans and I brought him heaping armfuls to try on. Which he did.

In every store I told him of our pact, "If you say yes to a pair of pants and I buy it, then you are obligated to wear it without complaint". In some cases, he rethought his decisions and we walked out with nothing.

I'd like to make myself look good here, but I have to tell you that as I watched him discard pair after pair of jeans and I thought ahead to just how few stores there are that have pants that fit a child with no waist... I lost it. There were tears in the dressing room.

Sometimes it's hard to figure out what is a sensory issue and what is a punk-head brat issue. They so often look the same.

And lo! There is an end to this post!

We now have enough jeans to last us a week of school. He promises me that he'll wear them. And I bought a new pack of those Hanes white t-shirts.

But I bought the next size up so that they would fit him....

and he tells me he can't wear them.

They feel funny.

as the visit winds down...

We are at that point in the visit where you are starting to think about the good-byes. Daniel doesn't know what the time frame is for people leaving yet and I have to tell him today that it will be soon.

In the past when we have had visits with my husband's family, he has cried and cried when it was time to leave. Me too, for that matter.

I have trouble, oftentimes, living in the present. Today I will have to model that behavior for Daniel, because I expect him to be upset when he finds out his grandparents and aunt will be leaving. It will be hard for me, because my anticipation of being sad is making me sad now.

BUT, he has made me so very proud. He has adjusted his behavior and willing gone to restaurants and not given us a hard time when we all pile into the minivan. He is willing giving up his ever-present Spongebob, so that his grandmother can watch the Olympics.

He still can't put on clothes without a huge struggle, but everything else is good.

In the last couple of days he is needing more deep pressure from me, so I know it isn't coming easy for him. But not many other people would know.

Last night he wanted to snuggle with me at bedtime, and he fell fast asleep sprawled out on top of me. Like a giant gangly version of that baby we took home from the hospital nearly 8 years ago.

breathing

The cleaning is done.

The in-laws are here.

I can breathe easily now.

There is something so wonderful about my husband's family, something that allows me to center myself around them. I think I may have married him just to be around his family, if I hadn't fallen in love with him first.

I remember a car ride with my dad, going to pick up my husband (then, just a boyfriend of less than a year) from a train station.... In the car I started crying and I told my dad that I thought this boyfriend was THE ONE. I just felt it, and it terrified me, because what if I was wrong? Then what do I do with this overwhelming feeling that I want to be with this person forever?

My dad tried to be supportive, but bless his heart, my family doesn't do supportive.

Anyway, it turns out I was right.

And then after I had fallen totally and completely in love with him, I met his family, and honestly, they threw me for a loop at first.

So sincere, and sweet. So unassuming and non-judgmental.

They did not manipulate me.

It was and is wonderful. Every time I'm with them (which, unfortunately isn't often), I breathe them in. I wrap myself up in the memories of these times with them when I try to make myself more balanced and centered with my son.

And you know what?
I still want to spend forever with my husband.
(Happy belated Anniversary, honey)

we survived...

the endless litany of abuses that my mother feels she has endured.

I have a feeling that this is the case for a lot of narcissists, but she constantly thinks that someone is slighting her.

Well, she's also paranoid. And actually, we are all sick and tired of her antics so maybe she isn't really that paranoid after all.

She continued almost without pause for three days straight, bad mouthing her other children and their spouses who weren't there.  Thank god for medication, because even with it there were times I thought my head was going to fly off my body and hurl itself around the room in a desperate attempt to get away from the talking, always the talking.

As it was, I medicated myself enough so that I could remain a fairly calm observer. At one point I realized that my medication was like Dumbo's magic feather. When she started to get to me, I would remember that I had taken meds and then calm down and repeat in my head, "She has no power over me, she has no power over me."

It sounds corny, but it totally worked.

So really, it should have been a horrible visit, but it was slightly less horrible.

She did apologize to me though...

Daniel accidentally broke something of hers. He still tends to flip himself about unpredictably at times and she has breakable things on every surface. And one of them was broken.

She flipped out like she used to when I was a child. Not nearly as bad, mind you, but still, not appropriate behavior for a grandmother. She accused him of doing it on purpose, and Daniel got so upset that he went into asthma-can't breathe mode.

I insisted that he apologize to her, because that's what you do when something like that happens. But he was too scared of her. So I brought the two of them together and told my mother that he was scared of her, after which he apologized.

I think she sensed just how close I was to packing up after that incident, because she apologized to me later. She didn't apologize for anything in particular, but it's rare that she ever says she's sorry, so I'll take it.

And now I have to prepare for a visit from my husband's side of the family.

They are all lovely people and I'm excited to see them, but I don't want them to see my house in it's chronic state of disarray, so it's off to do more cleaning for me.

A little bird told me what my mother said

I just got off the phone with a long lost "aunt" who was very happy to tell me all of the drama my mother has been stirring up.

It seems as though I have been portrayed as the one who is "punishing" my parents.  By not letting them see their grandson.

Oh, if only I could take credit for such wicked deeds!

What she told me doesn't really matter, I know my mother and the twisted tales she tells.

Except....

I only really know what she says about other people, and the things she tells me to my face. No one has ever told me what she says about me. I have often wondered what she says to my siblings about me, given the vehemence that she spews about them and their spouses.

So it's interesting to hear how exactly I'm being demonized. And how she must rely on her other children, because I'm so hateful. I love that she portrays that I'm victimizing her.

I don't want to be the good daughter any more. She sucked the life out of me for too long. So perhaps this news is good, I'm keeping them on their toes. Nasty ungrateful child that I am.

And the funny thing is that I've just been asked by one of my siblings to "fix" a family situation that my mother got her hands into. I think that I've had the role of ego-stroker/hand-holder/ and "situation-fixer" for so long that no one even recognizes it. It's just what I do. It's what I was trained to do.

I am so glad that by some bizarre twist of fate I married a wonderful sane man, who was raised by loving parents and siblings. Because otherwise, I wouldn't even know that my family's behavior was insane.

I'm going to go into radio silence now, no laptop for me when I'm with my family....too dangerous. Those people do not respect any boundaries.

Don't expect anything from me until after next week. Unless I freak out and come home early.

No picture today, because how can you express "I hate my mother" with a picture?

Monday was my birthday, so we did what any 18 38 year old does in New Jersey...we went to Six Flags!

Actually Six Flags is a good amusement park for me because it has lots of roller coasters so I can completely ignore all the spinning rides.

I can't really write more than that right now, because I've been in one long gut-wrenching panic attack since yesterday morning. I don't dare use any of my borrowed pharmaceuticals, because I will need them shortly since Daniel and I are going up to spend time with my family.

Hence the panic attack.

I'm having heart palpitations as I write this and waffling between feeling like I'm going to faint or throw up. Head feeling all float-y like a dissociative state is coming on.

I don't think I'm exaggerating to say that I'm terrified of being alone with my mother right now.

(Hmm, clearly I've hit on something there because I started to cry as I wrote those words.)

You might remember that I recently told her that I could not/ would not take some furniture from her. Expressing my own wants/needs/desires with her never goes well. Well, now she gets me for 5 days without my husband to run interference and 3 days when my dad won't be there either to temper her slightly.

I just know payback is on its way.

And yes, intellectually I realize that I'm a grown-up now and I'm not under her control.

But seriously? She created all those buttons I have that she likes to push. I am her finest creation.

Yesterday, I felt so sick all day, and then I got so tired, like I had the flu. But I'm only sick in the head.

God, how stupid is this that I am physically ill FIVE days before I have to go see my parents?! I hate hating them. But I do. I hate them. I don't want to see them.

There, I said it.

I'm really glad none of you can see me blubbering at the computer right now. Bird on my shoulder, son downstairs playing with legos.

I don't know what to do except to just push through it. I'm not going to stop contact.

Oh shit, his lego creation broke. Let me leave my blubbering self behind and go be a Mom.