Patron saint

I couldn't believe it.  My nephew had posted an image of my birth mother on Facebook, talking about how "I didn't see her much, but she was wonderful". 

How? 

Another (apparent) family member insisted: " I admired [name] when we were first married. Then I grew up and realized the pain in her heart and I cried for her. I wanted so much to spend time with her."

What the?  At first I was angry, this is the woman who maimed me for life with her prenatal drinking.  This is the woman who, diagnosed with bipolar disorder, refused to take her medication.  This is the woman who literally smoked herself to death.  The woman found dead with a large bottle of vodka on the nightstand. 

For me, she maimed me, massively neglected me, ran off when she was caught neglecting me, denied custody by the courts but given full visitation, every time I learned to trust her she ran off again, and everyone acted like she was the victim. 

What about me?  What about the collateral damage?  I'm the one that's never going to drive or get a high-paying job due to my Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. 

But if I say anything I'll be "flamed" and probably unfriended (not that it would be a huge loss).  She had pain in her life because she was sick, and refused to take her medicine.  She had pain in her life because she drank, and drinking was more important than anything.  Years after her death, the survivors are canonizing her "because she was sad, and she's dead now".  Well, she died early because she made bad choices.  It's a miracle a serial killer didn't get ahold of her. 

My sister told me "Oh, she felt guilty about how she treated you".  She should have.  If I hadn't had my stepmother I would have grown up hating women.  "She thought you hated her."  Why?  She was never in contact with me. 

I don't hate her.  I found her head games very tedious "I'm so sorry, can you ever forgive me?"  Yes.  "I'm so sorry, Heather!"  Yes, you're forgiven. 

She never once asked which boy I liked at school, or whether he liked he back.  That was my stepmother.  She never gave me the talk about my period.  That was my stepmother.  I don't even think she knew when I did start my period, unless my stepmother told her. 

Because my birth mother was so highly emotional, usually drunk during her phone calls, and prone to playing massive head games, my stepmother would run interference for me, gauge the tempo, so to speak, and then pass her along if she was OK.  Otherwise she said I was "busy" or "out of the house".  This was back when we only had a landline.

Now, my stepmother, whom I always called Mom - because she filled the role, had her problems. But she's much better now and we have a pretty good relationship.  I'm about to try to post Christmas photos of Ron in the wheelchair for her, on Facebook. 

So, I'm not going to say anything on the post about my birth mother.  For one, the person writing is one of those guys who has bipolar, drinks, doesn't take his medication (It's almost enough to make me believe in generational curses), has posted a lot of "I'm suicidal but none of you cares, do you" type posts, just isn't managing his illness.  Just like my mother.  No wonder he venerates her. 

[name] patron saint of the bipolar, unmedicated, alcoholic. 

I have her picture up, and a small painting she did (abstract) in my house.  I had her pearls but I gave them to my niece, who will have far more opportunities to wear them.  I was glad I had when my house got robbed. 

I don't value things, I value time.  Which is why I was happy we found a kiddie cart when we went to Walmart today. 

We went to the bill paying center and paid the electric bill, then did some shopping.  I bought a lot of chocolate.  I am thinking to fill up gift tins with chocolate (assorted small foil-wrapped chocolate).  We can give them to the other vendor (now that he has his lap band out I don't feel bad giving him chocolate, and he loves it). 

I got a bag for Doc, who I see next week.  I am going to fake him out with a small tin of ribbon candy and give that to the office staff, make like that's it for the candy.  Then produce a 2 and a half pound "Santa Sack" of candy during our visit. 

I also need to save some money for the visit.  I pay cash everytime I go. 

So, Ron and I got what we needed for today, checked out, and had a good ride home.  I couldn't find that good bread today, so I was a little sad about that.  Other than that, it was a good day. 

I'm about to go make a salami/ham/and turkey sandwich with some sharp cheddar, I think.  Tomorrow we get up early for work and get our soda delivery. 

#2 is still purging.  I'm starting to think he's moving out.  On the one hand, I'll be glad to get rid of the hoarding and the rats, the general filthy nature.  On the other hand, the previous tenants have been pretty rough, too.  I am not exactly looking forward to another half dozen children screaming in the yard, trying to climb the fence, and another possible barking dog. 

Ron is calling the landlady to let him know #2 is "acting" like they are moving out.  It's possible he's just purging, but everything I have seen on Hoarders says that is really unlikely. 

She's going to have a horrific cleanup if they are leaving, so better to catch them and get a forwarding address while she can.