Meg’s mother has gone off the deep end.

What’s the deal with my mother?! I don’t know. I think she’s deranged. 

I was hanging out with my sister today, and we had an interesting talk. For some background, my sister cut my mom off a year ago and hasn’t let her see the grandkids.

Or so I thought. 

According to my sister, and I don’t think she was lying, my mom could at any time contact Mr. Perfect (my sister’s husband) and arrange to see the kids. In fact, I’ve suggested this to her on numerous occasions. I don’t think my sister wants to spend time with my mother. But as it turns out, she has no objection whatsoever to my mom seeing her grandkids. 

But we all know my mother. Why arrange to see the grandkids when it’s so much more fun to play the victim? She had me convinced that if she were to contact Mr. Perfect, it would put a strain on my sister’s marriage. My mom didn’t want to get in the middle. But I’m starting to see through her BS. 

Good job, Meg. You’re almost 47 years old. You’re starting to chip away at it. 

Oh, shut up, inner voice! I mean, really. 

And now that I think about it, if I were to point out that my sister doesn’t mind if my mom wants to see the kids, my mom’s reaction would be, “Well, why should I spend time with my grandkids if my own daughter doesn’t want to see me?” And it’s like, um… maybe take what you can get and be grateful? No? 

Since my sister and I were having a nice talk, I decided to test a theory of mine. See, I’ve asked myself, If this is how my mom lies about everyone around her and acts all victimized, what is she saying about me? And the answer that came to me was, Meg, gorgeous, she probably acts all victimized over your mental illnesses. You know, the schizophrenia, the bipolar, and so forth. 

Mm-hmm. So I asked my sister if that was true, and the answer I got was an immediate yes. I rolled my eyes, and the two of us discussed how ridiculous that is. 

(I take medicines. I enjoy my life. I have friends. I like living with my dad. I sometimes have emotional problems, but I’m sure that could apply to anyone. I can’t function in the workplace at all, which is why I get disability; but otherwise, when left to my own devices, I’m doing pretty darned good.) 

So acting all victimized over it, and making it seem as though I’m usually in a catatonic state of cheerily engaging with my hallucinations, is so wrong. “Oh, look, another huge rainbowy butterfly sandwich floating around, waiting to be eaten. How pretty!” [Facepalm.] It’s not like that!!

Like, my dad has adult-onset diabetes. He watches his sugar consumption, takes some low-grade meds, exercises, and sees the doctor regularly. He’s never had any diabetic complications that you hear about, mostly because he’s diligent in treating it. It would be like if I, one of his loved ones, were to act all victimized over his diabetes. I mean, he doesn’t even have to stab himself and test his own blood sugar!! Like I said, he swallows some pills and strives to stay healthy. 

I was shocked when my sister said that she has no issue with my mother seeing the grandkids. But the shock wore off after a few seconds, as did the disbelief. And then I was like, ohh. 

And my sister’s mad. “Our mom has basically abandoned her grandkids in the name of her victimhood,” she stated. “They’re going to be really hurt by that when they’re older.” Good point. 

I don’t know what fuels a victimhood mentality. But I keep dwelling on all the [bleepy] stuff that my mom has done to us over the years that was designed to make us as miserable as she was, and to damage us, and to create division. She keeps saying, “I think it’s so great that you have a relationship with your sister again,” and she can’t help adding, “even though she won’t have anything to do with me, and I miss my grandkids.” Cue the waterworks. Yeah, she’ll start to cry. And then she’ll say, “But don’t worry about me. I’ve accepted that estrangements happen.” The [bleep] she has. 

I’ve been having some problems with her this year. She got mad at me recently because my dad and I brought her birthday cake. (Yeah, what were we thinking?!) He and I were coming from my nephew’s first birthday party (my brother’s son), and my mom was unable to make it to the party because, according to her, Lyft can never find her condo. 

Now, a normal person would contact Lyft and get that sorted out. Or find another ride. But here’s some background. The previous day, before the party, I asked her if she wanted my dad and me to pick her up and take her, right? But she acted all victimized and said that my dad wouldn’t want to go out of his way. She wound up being right about that, and I felt bad for having suggested it. 

So then, there we were at the party the next day, and my poor brother kept fielding calls from her in which she was reaching higher and higher levels of hysteria because the Lyft drivers (yes, she ordered a fleet of them) weren’t showing up. 

I sensed that she was acting all victimized to indirectly punish me and/or my dad for not picking her up. So, being an idiot, my dad got the idea that we should take her some birthday cake from the party on the way home. 

Dear God, why? 

So, we showed up at her condo, which isn’t hard to find (go figure), and she was a weepy mess. I tried to cheer her by pointing out that she’d just seen her grandson and my brother a day ago when they all went out for dinner. Her response? “But I missed the party!” 

“We’ll have another party soon,” I cajoled. “And it’s never too late to celebrate your birthday.” 

Her birthday was in late March, when she and I weren’t speaking. 

“You didn’t call me on my birthday!” she accused. “Please, don’t mention celebrating my birthday. The memories are too painful.” 

That’s some toxic [bleep] right there. Guilt trip after guilt trip. 

“But we can still celebrate,” I added. 

“No! I’ll never turn 75 again. It’s all ruined.” 

Fabulous. Lay it on thick, why don’t you? 

Eventually, my dad and I escaped. I was so stressed out that when we got home, I misplaced my driver’s license, my debit card, and my credit cards, even though there’s a place where I always put them. I was so spazzed that they didn’t get put in their place, and I couldn’t find them, and I had to order replacements. (A week later, I found them on the piano in the glass bowl that I keep my hearing aids in.) (Speaking of glass bowls…) 

I hate to say this, but if my mother knew about all that stress she caused me, she’d probably consider it a personal victory. I keep wanting to give her the benefit of the doubt, but… there’s something sick and perverse about her. 

I was wondering if she feels threatened by happiness. Suppose everything’s going great, and there’s not a care in the world. I personally enjoy feeling that way, but whenever my mom’s life seems too peaceful, she reacts as though the universe is about to smite her for having a carefree moment. And then, with her magical powers (I’m talking dark magic here), she creates these horrible situations around herself. 

And it was at that get-together where we brought her the cake that she acted all victimized over Lyft’s incompetence, and then she asked me to take her to her three or four upcoming doctor’s appointments. I was put on the spot, so I agreed.

A few hours after getting home, I rescinded my agreement in order to prioritize my own wellbeing. (She pays me for taking her, but she doesn’t give me hazard pay.) She lashed out at me for “leaving her in the lurch” and not caring enough about her, even though I should care about her because she bought me my car; and there was a huge guilt trip included over my not wanting to help her get around a few times a year.

(It’s true that she only needs a ride a few times a year. But if someone were to say, “Hey, let’s jump off the roof!” Would adding, “We’ll only do it a few times a year,” make it seem like a better idea?) 

I even apologized in the email. I wrote something like, I can’t take you to your appointments. I just can’t. I’m sorry.

You’d think I’d been cruel to her. 

I was going to take her north to visit her sisters for a few days, but she said that she wouldn’t feel safe in my presence. As though I pose a threat to her at all? Well, actually, now that I think about it, being stuck in the car with her for two hours (one way) could possibly lead to bloodshed. [Nods.]

I wanted to go with her and have fun. But she gets more pleasure lately from being an energetic vampire. And for her victim, that’s not fun. Not at all. 

She owes me a huge apology. But she’s actually mad at me. (It’s usually the other way around.) I’m glad, because if she’s angry, then I don’t have to make the painful decision to write her off. I hope she stays mad for a long, long time. I’m not good at staying mad at her.

(I often try to stay mad at her so that I won’t weaken and let her back into my life, which leads to my getting hurt all over again. But I’m a loving person, and often, my anger dissipates, which is regretful. But maybe my mom’s better at staying mad than I am. I sincerely hope she is.)