Sorry I have been remiss in my blogging of late. Long work weeks and all kinds of technical drama (surly hotspots, failing servers, OH MY!) that is boring but tedious. I am hoping to come out on the other side, alive, and hopefully... sane. Or as sane as I ever hope to be.
So a bit of Oh. My. God. She. Did. Not. Actually. Say. THAT!
I called to check in on her. She has been a bit more measured and calm lately since I have been pretty much silent on the calls, and getting off very quickly when the negativity escalates.
I was driving along, not really paying all that much attention when she diverts to a story about her cats doing something that cats normally do, especially when they are in a HOARD. Poor things. Anyway- all I caught was the tail end of a sentence. What I thought I heard was:
"...the little YARD APES."
And as I drive along with my mouth ajar... she says those two words over and over again...
So I decided to ask her about it. I suspected the origins of this type of comment that she would assert is simply harmless vernacular- but I perversely had to ask her about it.
So Mom, that term. What do you mean by it?
"Why do you ask? There is nothing wrong with it! It is what I call unruly children! Why I ..."
So do you think that someone might perceive that as having racist origins?
"NOOOO! You are acting like you did over me calling 'black' people 'colored' or 'negroids'. It is not like I say the N-word."
Is there any type of slang or familiar word of that sort you would use in its stead? A synonym perhaps?
"... [sulkily]... your dad would have said 'porch monkeys'..."
[And I loved, still love my father. But I in no part love his racism, classism, or ethnocentrism.]
"You know what that is right? That is pejorative term like the N-word. It is like constantly calling folks and their families 'tribes' or 'that tribe'."
---dial tone---
My other most recent go-around with her was her sizeism and fat shaming behavior. She is obsessed with those who have higher BMIs. The disdain in her voice, the shaming, the assumptions... and she seems to forget... to her once morbidly obese daughter. As a older teen I struggled to get above 98 pounds until I was ready to graduate college, then in my later 20's I gained, but in my thirties my weight bounced up and down. As it has in my forties. Right now I am a size 10 misses (US) but at my largest I was in a 22W (also US). It has been 2 1/2 years of dieting, working out, and hard work to get here. I would like to lose 30 pounds more, but my focus is on overall health.
Also, with her preoccupation with folks' appearances, their weight, etc. one would think that she herself is appropriately dressed, coiffed, showered, and is blade thin. Not the case. Personal hygiene is poor at best (a real shower and hair washing once a week is a goal she seldom meets). I could go on, but you get the idea. Sadly- part of this illness is the amazing lack of insight or empathy. She makes statements about those she describes as 'fat' as being 'sloppy' and 'shoving food in [his or her] face' and other types of judgement but her gains are due to medication, etc. I am constantly shamed for my weight, appearance, etc. 'I am so shocked ... you were always so 'trim' as a youngster...'
Although I try to find humor in the narcissism of this illness, it often frustrates me, and makes me sad. How miserable it must be to be so ill that you must surround yourself in objects, and drive off any chance of a normal relationship with anyone... even your children. How simply devastating it must be to live one's life as opportunity lost, and to always be nursing hurts from 70+ years of experience as if they happened today, and to be so caught in the web of personality disorders and addiction that you cannot even remotely begin to see other people as separate, having separate experiences, perceptions and points of view.
Hoarding... No one wins. No one. Someday I hope...
Well... I think we all know what I hope. I don't think I am being pessimistic when I say I am very confident that I will not get what I hope for her. I think I am being realistic.
Have a good night all. Peace.
My name is Lisabeth, and I am the adult child of a compulsive hoarding mother. The take away from my journey is that the hoard is merely a symptom of a life threatening, relationship-destroying mental illness. An illness that often includes behaviors from addiction, child/domestic abuse, and personality disorders such as narcissistic personality disorder. Stay, read, and please, by all means, intervene if you see a child being raised in the shadow of the hoard.
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