Anyway, I received the letter in the photograph to the left - and.....there is just so much to see here. So much.
But I must start out with the following:
Do not feel badly for me. Please. Just don't.
I'm very much past the point of being hurt by her words. No. That passed years ago. Now, I can't help giggling, rolling my eyes, poring over every word, every comma (there are a hell of a lot of them), every message she leaves in the way she writes and spells, etc. It's no fun to just conclude that she's bat-shit crazy. While true, that's just too easy.
So, enjoy my commentary below:
Hello, son,Okay. Why? Just why the comma in the middle? Wait, though. You'll get very used to having to take little breaths and think backwards until the sentence ends and you end up flushed, feeling like you listened to Yoda, in the throes of a galactic constipated bowel movement.
Also notice she doesn't capitalize "son." Friends, that's bloody on purpose. She won't name me anymore until I do whatever it is she wants me to do - "open my eyes to her loveliness."
Wanting, here, to thank you again, for introducing me to Cameron coffee. In that old grinder your brother gave me so many years ago, I grind the whole beans, and then make the coffee, Intense French, in that little coffee maker your sister gave me so long ago.She's trying to remind me of better times, here. It won't work. The better times were awful. I tried for years to love her unconditionally and got nothing in return but hurt and derision. She despised everything about me, including the fact that I married my bride without her permission. I couldn't fart in her presence without her say-so. She treated my family like shit and they did nothing to her but exist. My children were just children and my wife was just a fucking woman. They deserved her love, as my mother. That is all.
And it is apparent that both my brother and my sister, mentioned in the above paragraph, have also left her in the lurch. She would have named them otherwise. I have no idea which siblings she is talking about, nor do I remember the coffee bullshit. And that's exactly the way she wants it. She wants me to burn with curiosity, and come crawling back to her, asking her to tell me the whole story, face upraised toward hers, in earnest eagerness, hand on her knee, rubbing my thumb back and forth, my breaths short with anticipation.
No. Just no. I have absolutely no interest in playing her petty games.
Absolutely sky-rocketing delicious. :)Jesus Christ woman! When a comma is needed, you forget to add it. She used to just say "glorious," but I guess that's just not good enough anymore. Absolutely, sky-rocketingly delicious. There...I fixed it for you.
Too, I want to let you know that, if I hadn't heard that you tore up the last Christmas present I sent to you and your wife and children, and pocketed the bits of money I'd sent for the kids...Now hold on here, woman. That was sent in 2011. And you didn't send "bits of money." You sent a dollar to the four oldest of my children AS A BRIBE! They weren't allowed to spend a damn penny of that money, unless they hoodwinked me into contacting you again. Then, they needed to come to your house, get some creepy shit out of your house, dig a few toys out of the cellar, and then, AND ONLY THEN, were they allowed to spend the dollar.
I skipped all the bullshit and took my kids out shopping.
Do your research before leveling accusations. Stop pretending that your "Christmas gift" was an innocent present. And if you're curious, that whole "gift" is documented here.
...if I hadn't heard of that, I truly would send to you all, Christmas presents each year, even if you did not speak to me all year long before each special day, birthday & all such things, too.AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!
I'm crushed. Hurt. Smashed to bits. I seriously am barred from receiving more "gifts"? I'm going to weep the weepery of all my ancestors heretofore. My mother is so full of herself, it's not even subtle anymore.
No. We have a fine Christmas without you. Just fine. Keep your strings-attached shit.
love you,...Right. If that's love, my kids are fucking privileged to be my kids. The shitty love I give to them is so far and away better than your love, it's not even a contest. I'm learning to be a better dad and husband by the day. I fail like crazy and make them cry. But I want so bad to be the reason they smile at the end of the day. And I work my ass off to make up for my failings. But that's life. We learn. We improve.
We don't fail, then manipulate our loved ones to do whatever we want, despite treating them like shit.
...and all your family, and waiting for the day your eyes become opened to my loveliness :)
WHAT. THE. FUCK.
My mother is a narcissist.
Love you all. I'm out.