Venting

Just so you can get a feel of the kind of crazy-making bullshit that I have to endure on a daily basis, I'm going to write about some of the insane "conversations" I've had with my mother in the past couple of weeks.  This might turn into a series because if I put them all together it's going to be disjointed and hard to read.

The Fish Convo

I don't know how she got on the subject of fish tanks, but that's what the conversation turned to.  I mentioned that I didn't care for fish tanks because it seems cruel to the fish to be confined to such a small little place for their whole lives.  My mother then tells me that the *real* reason I don't like fish tanks is because I'm lazy and don't want to have the responsibility of taking care of a fish tank. (That is only partly true in a way.  Why would I want the responsibility of taking care of something that I don't want and that I don't enjoy?) Then she starts in about how we used to have a fish tank and I, Xul, *never once* made any attempt to help out with it.  That it was *all left up to her* and I *never once* helped.  I reminded her that when we had a fish tank, I was like 4 or 5 years old.  Was it really the responsibility of a 4 or 5 year old to take care of a fish tank?  I don't think I was even tall enough to *reach* the fish tank, let alone clean it or feed the fish. I don't even think she wanted me to go near the thing, IIRC. And besides, don't you think that is a bit much of a responsibility for a small child?

Her whole problem is that in reality, the fish tank was just something to provide narcissistic supply.  It was a possession that she could brag about having and some thing that she could impress people with and make herself feel special that she has a fish tank and others do not.  Of course, then she gets resentful that the thing that she has to make herself feel special is also something that she actually has to spend time taking care of.  That part isn't very fun and she resents it.  How unfair to her-- being the special person that she is--that she would have to take care of the fish tank.  I mean, seriously?  You're pissed that I, as a small child, didn't take care of something that you made the choice of having?  And you're resentful of me for that?  :::sigh:::

Another Fish Story

The above story reminded me of something that happened when I was very young.  I was dragged by my mother(As was always the case---I felt like an accessory like her purse or something, not like an actual human whose feelings and desires were taken into consideration.  I was just something that just happened to be there.) to the pet shop to buy some fish for the tank.  I guess to replace some that had died.  We got the fish and the employee put the fish in a long clear plastic bag.  My mother let me carry it.   Now, you have to take into consideration that what I did wasn't out of malice or cruelty, I was 4 or 5 years old for Christ's sake.  I was looking at the fish in the bag and sort of playing with them   Since it was a long bag, if I raised one side up higher than the other, then the fish went to one side and then tried to swim back up.  I liked watching them swim up so I kept raising one side of the bag then the other.  I was just amusing myself, I didn't mean any harm. 

Well, my mother saw what I was doing and laid into me.  "What are you trying to do?  Kill the fish that I just bought?"  She just let me have it and kept accusing me of trying to kill the fish, that I'm being deliberately cruel, etc.   :::sigh:::

The Asshole Teacher Convo

This is another "conversation" that happened less than a week ago.  I don't know how she got on the subject, but the subject of teachers came up.  She was complaining about some bitch of a teacher named Mrs. Monroe that she had when she was in school.  According to my mother, this bitchy teacher had a grudge against her and always singled my mother out for humiliation.  I think I made the comment that if you don't like kids then you shouldn't be a teacher.  I mentioned something about my favorite teacher was my 3rd grade teacher Mrs. W who was a very kind person and obviously loved kids and could get us kids to do anything without fuss and she never had to yell or punish us.  She just had a wonderful way with children.  (She was my favorite because she was an encourager and never mean or critical.  She made me feel good about myself and encouraged my drawing and creative talent.  She knew how to bring out the best in children---the conplete opposite of my mother.) 

Then somehow, the subject of my least favorite teacher, my 1st grade teacher Mrs. B, came up.  She was a very strict, rigid, and harsh person. (She was of German heritage--I like to think of her as a Nazi.) Then I related the story of the time I got paddled by her for no good reason. (It was a private school and they believed in corporal punishment.)

We were doing an assignment in class and she apparently told the class to put it away.  Well, I'm the sort of person who can get very engrossed with what I'm doing and just tune out everything else.  I was still doing the assignment when the bitch snapped at me.  She accused me of willfully and deliberately being disobedient. (This was so much bullshit.  I was a very shy child and very submissive to adults.  I was too afraid of adults/teachers to be deliberately defiant.)  She ordered me out into the hallway and then told the supervisor who had a little office just outside our classroom.  They both were mad as hornets and then the teacher paddled me.  I was never so humiliated.  All the kids knew what was happening and then I had to go back into class while bawling my eyes out and have all the other kids staring at me, some with pity and others with shocked looks.  It was all so unjust and humiliating.

As I was telling the story to my mother, I got overcome with emotion because it was such a traumatizing and unjust thing that I went through.  In typical fashion, my mother cannot have any sympathy or empathy for me.  She cannot validate my feelings and tell me that what happened wasn't right.  NO!!!  She has to mock me and tell me that I have mental problems to be crying and upset over something that happened when I was 6 years old.  I got indignant at that and told her that she has no empathy or compassion at which she replied, "Ha!  You're full of shit!  I'm *the most* empathetic and compassionate!"   Riiiiight.  You just keep proving it, don't ya?
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Just had an epiphany in the shower(where all my best thinking is done and where epiphanies occur), maybe all my suffering will someday serve a greater good.  Maybe I will someday write self help books dealing with NPD and help many people and make myself oodles of moolah?  Maybe it's just wishful thinking.

Somewhat related:  I really wish I had a device that could read my thoughts while I'm in the shower and put them down for blog posts.  I really do think of the best blog posts while I'm in the shower!  ;P

I'm actually feeling a little better ATM.  I think writing this shit out is somewhat cathartic for me.