So how much suffering is enough for YOU? A letter to the former Mother In Law.

Okay, I sat on this post long enough... I wrote it out several weeks ago, heck maybe even a month ago.  Then I let it sit, and stew and brew around here in my head.  See I thought that perhaps it was written too hastily.  Perhaps it was one of those heat-of-the-moment type things that would pass and I would get over it.

But alas... no.  Recently I have had a run in the former Mother In Law (known as the Drama Momma around here)  see Drama Momma is your classic female narcissist.  Everything is about her.  Her feelings.  The work she does, the ways she suffers.  That line from the movie The Ref sums it up perfectly. "You know what I'm going to get you next Christmas, Mom? A big wooden cross, so that every time you feel unappreciated for your sacrifices, you can climb on up and nail yourself to it."

So here we go... it ain't pretty... but damn I feel better getting it out. 
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Dear Drama Momma,
It has come to my attention that you don't think your beloved baby boy has gotten a fair shake in all this mess.  It seems that repeatedly you've asked our mutual family why X is the only one who's been punished? Why haven't I had to suffer the way your darling son has? True he brought a gun to my house, but he was driven  to it by the dirty whore who doesn't love him anymore right?

How exactly would you like me to suffer?  What level of pain, or humiliation would be enough compensation?  Did I terrorize your son with a gun?  No... I didn't think so. Somehow in your sick, pathetic, narcissistic mind this is all somehow about you and your pain.  Your loss, your anger, your embarrassment.... and naturally that pain and fear and anger must be someone elses fault! You couldn't possibly have raised this monster - because you of course have dedicated your entire life to Narcissist Jr. And why in the world wouldn't that have produced a healthy, respectful, kind and loving man?

So perhaps you would feel better if I had been physically injured... oh wait, I was.
Perhaps you would be happy if I had been afraid for my life... oh wait, I was.
Maybe I should have permanent emotional scars... oh wait I do.  PTSD is a bitch to live with.
Would you like me to be financially devastated... got that covered too. Your expensive lawyers have seen to that.
How about suffering from persistent nightmares for over a year, is that suffering enough?
How about if my private life were splayed out to be the fodder of gossip and speculation of all my family and friends... oh wait, it is. Humiliation not enough for your though?
Would you be warm with righteous vindication if I lost my home... because I did, and then I was HOMELESS with four kids living in a camper.  Remember that little episode in the not so distant past?

Lets see... what else have we got? 

Oh yes, maybe I should lose valuable relationships with family and friends as people take sides, or just drift away in an attempt to escape a very uncomfortable situation...  no problem there, done.
Would you feel better knowing it was me who held your grandchildren as they cried themselves to sleep? That I answered the tough questions?
Does it make you feel any better to know I had to swallow my pride, humble myself, and beg for help at the Welfare office because I didn't know how I was going to feed my kids or get their medications?

So where are we?  Pain, PTSD, Anxiety, Homelessness, Financial Ruin, Loss of Loved Ones, Fear, Humiliation, Parental Guilt, Nightmares...  and those are just the biggies.  There were several moves required to find a home for the kids and I.  There was a difficult job change.  There is the daily struggle to parent four kids.  There are questions to which I may never have answers.

So have I suffered enough for you Mrs. Drama Momma?  Is all of that equal to your son sitting on his ass in a jail cell for 19 months, being fed, clothed, medicated, and cared for by the state?  Is there anything short of my own incarceration that would somehow, some way, make you feel less victimized by me - all because I didn't want to be married to the asshole you raised?

Because, as far as I can tell...  beyond everything else I listed,  just having to be married to that mean, condescending, pathetic excuse of a man and father for 15 years was punishment enough.  Now I'm getting on with my life.  I don't care to placate you any longer.  I don't care about either of your feelings, or your issues.  I'm not interested in your afflictions or addictions, your reasons or your excuses.

I think it's best we just pretend neither one of us exists.  It's the only way I see this not getting uglier than it already is. So goodbye.  No it's not me... it's you.  I won't call you in the morning, and there's no way in hell I want to just be friends.  Here you go Drama Momma, as a parting gift I wrapped up this cross for you with a pretty pink bow.  I'm sure you'll get plenty of use out of it.

With my head held high,
Lucy

*** Whewww... I actually really do feel better....  I've needed to get that off my chest for 2 years! ***