Sunday, October 9, 2011

Undermining Mother

Here is an insane rant:

There is nothing in this of any merit, but I am keeping it up.  I am intrigued by how ppl get over dealing with narcissism in their family life.  I think it poisons us.  And I think we find narcissistic spouses and such. It seems to never really leave.

I really cannot write coherently about my family, particularly my mother.  I hate them all so fucking much.  I would have been better of in a foster home.  Better off there than with my twisted, creepy family in our wannabe, but lame as fuck little college town.

At two years from forty, I recognize that my decided anger felt towards my mother--the narcissistic, pretend pretty bag of douche who abandoned me when I was in high school, only to hang on tight to me as a prop, should be settled, at least in some way.  This woman, this emotional leach, this narcissistic sociopath deserves about two moments of time an acknowledgement and then, a deep abiding forgetting.  The mistake I made was hanging on to her desperately when I should have been letting go, when I gave birth to Mr. Z.  I pray now, for a certain closure when she dies.

I think a lot about her fake writing life.  Her memoir classes really, Mom, memoir writing.  I do not know whom or what forces are encouraging her, but they are so ridiculous, that I do not even think they should be stopped.

The problem I have here is her inability to see who she really is. She has a great ability to finesse people, to make them like her.  Thus, yeah, I betcha a pool of unsophisticated, half stupid insecure dim wits will sign up for her hobby-ish classes in her retirement community.  Her experience, is, well, yep, from her classes in teaching interns how to teach elementary school kids.  Her reading life consists of one or two bestsellers a year, and whatever the spiritual book group is reading.  The woman is a lecherous fucking idiot.  My issue is that she somehow believes that she is more talented than me, smarter.  Listen you cunt, you're a manipulator.  Without this tool.  If you went through lie not manipulating and acted as you are--like so many of us do--ppl would see you for what you truly are: an almost attractive bore who has nothing going on except a rich husband.  Your fucking children do not even like you.  You spent yer child support money on Talbots clothing, yer fucking Talbots raincoat, and you could not even buy me a prom dress.  TWATFUCK.


What sucks is the memories I have of the undermining shit she pulled when I was young and vulnerable.  How *many* Woolf book did you read, Little Miss Spoiled's Cornell calls it deconstructionism, what does your university call it?  At least I did not have to drop out of my physical education major b/c they gave me the ugly bathing suit for awkward, tall flat-chested uglies, right?    Listen Twatfuck, Twat's mother did not abandon her.  She is not from a fake middle class background.  Her only harm in life is that her classy, cool dad married a gold digging slut, you.  When your breast cancer comes back, do you understand that I will be happy?  You're a cunt.  You have never been anything else.

You're an ugly, idiot who had to get an ABD to keep up with the conversations around you.  Do you think people do not realize this?  Nobody actually gives a shit about you.  My son is a sweet heart; that is why it seems like he cares.  You steal from people.

I do not have the energy to have a one - sided conversation with a half retarded, douche cunt about her former teaching career.  Get it:  nobody ever really liked you.  Only your vulnerable daughters.  You're a cunt.  I will be glad when you're gone.

Mommy Dearest in the metal hanger scene.

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