Yesterday was a very trying day for me and my husband. We had known that our baby probably had autism, we received a rating of 37 when we first went to the doctor (scale goes from 36-50), but for some reason I was hoping it was ADHD. I do not know why I wanted this, I know autistic people in my life that are amazing, beautiful, full of love, and smart as hell. Yet, hearing a clear diagnosis of “yes, he has autism; socialization level one, and behavioral level two,” was something else entirely. No, I do not see him in a different light or anything like that. I just get worried, I think most parents does.
So, my husband and I get back to house after dropping the little one off. I am eating lunch and receive a phone call. The lady sounded urgent on the phone and asked: “Is this Stephanie?”. Well, of course it is me, you called me on my private phone number. “This is the crisis team, we got a call from someone who is afraid you are suicidal from a post you did today on Facebook,”. Okay, not what I was expecting as I have been taken off Prozac, and no longer have those dark thoughts. Naturally, I asked her who called, what post, etc. “Well, we cannot tell you any of that. Are you by yourself?”, now that struck me as odd but I said no my husband is here. She wanted to talk to him immediately, now only hearing one side of the story I can only deduce that it blog posting. Dan said: “Well, she blogs and videos about suicide and suicide prevention,” and that was it. They felt safe enough to let me get off the phone.
Cool, so somewhere in cyberland who knows me personally enough to have my number (which is not many) called the crisis team on me for posting about my journeys through suicidal ideation and how I sought out help.
I instant messaged my aunt to tell her what was going on. I got a very strange response: Was that blog post where you said Jenny called you Florida recent? Well, yea, I just wrote it last week or so. It was recent, the incident was a couple of years ago. My biological mama was on a rampage from what I understand, and my baby sister was in the middle of it. Apparently, that blog got to her (and under her skin).
It is not the first-time things like this happened. One day, my older sister had an interview for work. She asked my mom if she had washed some blouse that she wanted to wear. Apparently, it was in the washer and my sister okay I’ll find another one. My mom went into rampage. It was around the time of Halloween, she went outside like a crazy person and started ripping up all the decorations and throwing them into the yard. It was a spectacle to watch a woman so small cause so much destruction in an instant over a very little question. “Guess I have to do everything around here!” and slam goes the bedroom door.
Another instance of this incredible case study (because that is how I am treating it) is shortly after the horrors of 9/11. We had travelled to Florida as a family. My mom forgot that she packed the film in the bags that were about to be x-rayed, which means it would mess with the exposure. Thank Goddess she is a white woman. She jumped over the partition to pull her bag while the TSA people were trying to hold her back to get the film. She got the film though, and it left the TSA people just scowling at our family. It was humiliating. My older sister made a comment about it, and my mother took her water bottle and sprayed my older sister. Mind you my older sister was wearing a white tank top, and is large breasted. What she had said was not a criticism, I do remember that, but rather a light-hearted joke that if my dad had done the same thing that we would be waiting in the detention area. My dad is large, and dark skinned. We all just stopped and stared at her. It was such a weird move to make.
Another time this happened was at my first wedding. Yes, I have been married twice. To say that I married purely out of the need to be out of my parent’s household would be a lie, I did love (or to the fullest extent an eighteen-year-old could) my ex-husband. They had this garland that was hanging from the pews…it was a summer wedding. I hated it. I said so, yet she kept it up. I was not there for the confrontation as I was being dressed for my wedding. My friend went in and took all the garland down and replaced it with ribbons. Now this, this was in direct defiance of my mother, and she lost it. She started saying my best friends could not be there at the wedding, they could not speak at the wedding, and started throwing a hissy fit in the middle of the church. I know my ex-mother-in-law and I have our problems but she stepped in and said cool your jets (in less nicer terms). We were up getting photos taken, and my mother hissed “I’m sorry,” I hissed back “I never want to talk to you again. It had been my day, she had to make it hers, and that was that.
My second wedding was going to be much of the same I realized as mothers started talking about flowers they wanted, how everything should be set up. I said nope, we are having a Pagan ceremony and only parents can come. My mother spent weeks of before the wedding telling me why I should not have a Pagan ritual for a wedding, and why she would not be coming. She sent me articles, called me names, and an assortment of beautifully pieced abusive language. The big day came! Only Dan’s mom and dad (very Catholic) were there, and my very tired father walked up with no sign of my mother. I later got a text from my baby sister that the cops almost had to be called when my dad announced he was not going to miss his child being married. I still, to this day, have no idea what happened. It is like a puzzle to me, cops being called would indicate that there was an ordinance violation, or a domestic abuse situation. Either way, my father took the brunt of it.
I could go on and on about my experiences living with a mother that is either borderline personality disorder or narcissistic, but I feel that would take up way too much of your precious time.
So, in short, my biological mother read my post, got pissed, I’m no contact with her, she wanted power, and called the crisis hotline.
Yay for parents who love to torment their children. Child abuse ends in the 3rd to 4th generation, my children will be the 3rd. They will never see abuse. They will never know what it feels like to have a mom that withholds love from them because she does not get her way. They will not see me tantrum like a two-year-old, because that is not who I am.
I know my mom is reading these now. How you got my info, I do not know. I do want you to know that I will not stop writing. Pull whatever tactics you want to, throw as many hissy fits as you find necessary. You no longer exist to me as a mother. You are the person that gave birth to me yes, I had the tape to prove it until I threw it away when I realized that I no longer wanted contact with you.
I do hope that you have a wonderful day though, because that is exactly what I am planning on doing.
Thank you as always to life coach and counselor Jenn Bovee for helping me keep my head above water, teaching me about boundaries and how to stick with them, and how to remove toxicity from my life.
Light up the Darkness,