It is Thanksgiving today. I don’t celebrate, but I don’t mind thinking about what I’m grateful for. My brother is having his dinner tomorrow, and I had been planning on going. for the first time in several year. Obviously, in part because of the pandemic, but also because, quite frankly, his (now ex) wife made everything so unpleasant.
She sat around with her face looking like she was sucking on a lemon. It was clear that she was not enjoying herself and that she wished everyone was not there. That may or may not include her children.
She was Shrodinger’s asshole in that you never knew when she was going to snipe at you and for what. I have said in the past that living with my father was like living with an alcoholic. We had to tiptoe around him and his moods, always on edge that he was going to take offense at something or the other.
It’s a truism that we marry our parent, especially the one with whom we have difficulty. My brother married someone who was the combination of both our parents. From my mother–the crippling anxiety that made her question everything and averyone. Except in my mother’s case, it just made her really annoying in that she constantly questioned everything and everyone. She did not trust her own opinion on anything–and she had to ask so many people what they think (while not listening to anyone).
Ian commented to me once that she really didn’t listen to my opinion, did she? No, she did not. It wasn’t because sof me, though. Well, not exactly. Yes, she was sexist in that she trusted men’s opinions more than non-men people’s opinions. So, yes, it was partly that. And because I was the baby. But it was also (in this case) because she had to ask at least two people about everything, and when she was here, she was in the house with me. So I was the first person she was talking to. Then she would call my brother, and he would be the second person she would talk to.
She couldn’t just make a decision on her own, oh, no. That would just not do.
Another example of her anxiety. She had a shirt shipped here. Fine, right? All she had to do was let me know, and I would bring it inside. My brother and his family are going there for Christmas. He could bring it to her. No problem! Right???
It should not have been a problem. In fact, it’s one of the easiest things in the world. Delivery, I mean. I take it for granted, probably bbecause I do it often.
My mother forwarded me an email that FedEx sent her saying the package was delayed. Fine. Whatever. Then she sent me another saying it was going to be on time after all. Then another confirming that it was coming on the day she had first been told it would arrive. She was confused by what this meant.
I mean. It’s right there in English? Now, to be fair, English is her third language and she does not use it on the daily any longer. Still. It’s not that hard to follow. It had been delayed by two days, but no longer was. There was no reason to get into a tizzy about that.
She sent me another email saying it was on its way. And complained about all the emails. I finally told her that the messages were FYI and as long as they were not cancelling the delivery, she did not have to stress over each email. Also, as long as I did not have to sign for it, it didn’t matter when they left it at the door.
She does this, though. Make mountains out of flat lands. They aren’t even molehills! She has enough to worry about in her life without adding this shit to the list.
On my father’s side, my ex-SIL was like him in several ways. Highly critical, could only look at things from her viewpoint, and held grudges for years. Oh, and this is related (and something my mother does as well), has rigid beliefs about the Right and Wrong behavior.
In addition, both my ex-SIL and my father have no joy in life. My father is an ahedonist, I think. He does not enjoy anytihng sensual. Not food or music or scents. I don’t think he even enjoys sex; he just wanted the attention.
To be fair, he did enjoy some music, but just Taiwanese folk songs. And Taiwanese TV shows. And Taiwanese movies. And Taiwanese food. I think you can sense a theme here.
My ex-SIL also did not enjoy sensual things. In her case, it was partly because she had no sense of smell that she did not like food. But, my brother told me, that not only did she not like food, she refused to believe that anyone could taste things she could not. She could taste the five basic tastes–sweet, sour, etc., but that was it. She thought my brother was lying when he said that he colud taste things like spices.
This was before I had to go GF/DF. It always irritated/amused me that when we went out to eat, we had to find something bland enough for both my father and ex-SIL to eat. Which, ironically, was Culver’s. I’m not slamming Culver’s. They have a GF bun so I can actually eat their burger. And, back when I could eat some dairy, their frozen yogurt/custard was terrific.
My ex-SIL’s favorite restaurant was Olive Garden. Which was not terrible by any means, but not great. So we’d end up eating at one of those two places. Oh, and my father liked the burger form Smashburger. That’s it. And my brother’s beef brisket (which my ex-SIL made fun of). My brother,s beef brisket is fantastic, by the way.
I’m grateful that I don’t have to eat with either of them any longer. I’m grateful that I have found a few places where I can eat at all–even on DoorDash.
I’m glad that I’m still alive. It’s bene over two years since I died twice, and I’m better than ever.