Oy vey. Those are the only words, sorely lacking proper explanation aside. Oy vey.
My mother would have said: Jesus, Christ, Mary and Joseph, and all of the Saints.
My father would have said: Judas Priest Mary Lou!
Daddy didn’t curse in front of us often, but when he did? My mother’s name almost always came next. Mom was a full blooded Irish lass from back in the day: when I say “lass” I mean a tiny, driven, trash talking mama…four feet ten in heels, she could have intimidated the Pope. It only took a look, but mom didn’t know this. When something didn’t suit? You seriously wished that Jesus would come and take you, right there and then.
This picture caught my eye, its’ unleveled beauty-my heart swelling at the idea that there are loving, functional families out and about in this world. Yes, I mean, we were raised by perfectly well-meaning alcoholics, who could not have predicted that two out of three of their children would be in therapy, for life. Good times…
So, this miscommunication (hey, I’m being nice :)) I had with my brother – mea culpa, and apparently, my bad baby. Here’s the thing about dealing with familial relationships after narcissistic abuse, and a diagnoses of CPTSD: if you have a brain in your head, you are going to be ON GUARD, my amigos….on guard permanently. Against betrayal, lack of validation, triangulation and actual loss of family. You don’t trust your dog, for crying out loud. It is what it is, and you can’t blame u6s-we are damaged goods, for life.
So, apparently, while standing my ground and putting up boundaries (he did say he didn’t believe me, hell, he was lucky it just triggered me-I could have had a meltdown extraordinaire-however, I am guilty of raising my voice, and asking him to leave my abode. I had no idea that this hurt him deeply, so much so that he searched near and far for a diagnoses that would explain why his sister of 56 years just ripped him a new one for the first time-ever.
- Craig and myself. Circa 2017
Among my strengths (and weaknesses) is my strong desire to protect those I love. Who am I kidding? I don’t think I could purposely hurt another human being; let alone my brother, who has held my hand through my first AA meeting, sat the night with me after a car accident and listened to my story of personal and searing pain forever. Yes, he has been a victim in this mess, and if a Flying Monkey? Unknowingly? I think so.
So, this weekend was some of the most Godawful PMS, in recent history, that I can recall. In an attempt to help me, along with what I believe to be a true concern; and also to help him understand why he didn’t recognize his own sister. So, the poor guy sends me an email about Borderline Personality Disorder. I immediately freak out
You are gaslighting me.
I knew I couldn’t trust you, did she put you up to this? How dare you not validate my achievements in the recovery of addiction???!!!
RESPECT MY AUTHORITY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This was the same day my poor husband drove home in a flash flood and I lost my shit on him (hey, I didn’t know there was a flood) because he was late. Flat out, full blown screaming in his face. On my gawd…that wasn’t the only daytime drama. Why after telling me he was going to hand a tree stand in the woods with his son-I heard trail camera 😦 I truly wish I could say hilarity ensued- but I ended up making an ass out of me, as I assumed he was simply hanging a camera.
Yep, his hair flew in the winds of my voice…I am not quiet when angry, I get all Irishy and shit.
Long story short, I hurt my brother.
Long story short, I didn’t take his feelings into consideration. I apologized for yelling, but I ended up unnerving the poor lad.
Long story short? God is asking me to take a leap of faith, and trust that my favorite sibling is not out to shame, dismember or hurt my heart.
I think Jesus wants me to hang on to him for dear life, for a number of reasons.
I am down with that.