raising my parents

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my husband & i have been married for a little over a month now (yay!). i may be biased in saying our wedding was one of the most beautiful weddings i have ever seen, much less attended. it was absolutely everything i ever wanted….except for one thing…well, two things really.

my parents-or, “children,” as i’ve came to refer to them in therapy-refused to behave themselves…again.

it started with my dad. two days before the wedding, he & my stepmother were coming to, “help get ready for the wedding.” not expecting help from any of my family, i was excited & very thankful for the help….though skeptical. originally suppose to be on his way at noon, he called at eight that night to say they were just leaving, which was fine because he would here the next day to help, right? haha good one, Cesilee. they finally arrived sometime after midnight that night…in their usual state, high. i already knew it in the first call i got from him about being lost. the slow, low talking. the slurred muffle speech that i knew all too well. so i went to bed. they called at least three more times that night, completely clueless to where they were when they’d been to the house before. when they got here, my husband later told me what i already knew. they were higher than kites. staggering, talking about someone, “stealing,” their drugs, & the fact they wrecked their sequoia on the way in. it gets better (or worse, i guess you’d say). on the day of our actual wedding, he was suppose to meet at the church at 10 am for pictures…10, 11, 12, & no sign of either of them. at 1 what i was afraid would happen did, someone told me (i don’t remember who, i was so upset at that point) he was in Winchester, which was a good hour at least from where we were. it was my wedding & he wasn’t there. just like all those baseball games, Birthday parties, & forensics competitions he missed. i told the wedding director i would wait 15 minutes & then my sister, the only sane family member i have, would walk me down the aisle…it was fine. it was not fine. finally, he showed up just at my cut off point for him…a little high but not to the point where anyone else would be able to tell. not someone who hadn’t watched him get high & drunk their whole lives. not someone who was use to picking it up when he’s in the mid point of chasing his high. i knew it. i always know by his half closed, glazed eyes or talk about things not entirely relevant to the present moment.

& in corner two, we have my mother, who is borderline. from the time i was old enough to go to proms & homecomings, she had a way of making those days about herself. putting on a dress that (nearly always) featured half her tits hanging out, enough make up to look as if she was going out as well, & of, course….her need for an inappropriate amount of pictures because, after all, it was all about her. the fact that our relationship is basically nonexistent was irrelevant on this day. after all, she had to prove to the world she was in her children’s lives & that we all have a great relationship.

there are times i can tolerate her better than others (reading the book Stop Walking On Egg Shells helped a lot) & then there are others…when i am already raw from the grave disappointment of the other, “parent.” just after i found out my dad was probably not going to be at my wedding, i was outside taking pictures with the wedding party when i told my grandmother we didn’t have a picture together yet. connie (my mother), being who she is, then proceeds to apply her armor of guilt, proclaiming we had no pictures together….when we’d already taken at least two.

it was at this point i was in no mood for my toddlers. i told her i was not going to do this with her today, took my iPhone from her hand, & walked back into the church to have an inward meltdown…one my sister could see &, when i said i was going to the bathroom, announced she had to go, too…because she knew i was really going to the bathroom to cry. she followed because she knew the disappointment after disappointment we’d both endured & how it never hurt any less time after time.

two weeks before the wedding, i got incredibly anxious about everything. my PTSD flared up. the nightmares came back…& none of that had anything to do with my marriage. i love scott. he is the only healthy relationship (with the exception of my sister & a few friends) i have ever known. he loves me. he genially loves me in the deepest way you could love someone. & i am absolutely madly in love with every part of him there is to know. that was not the cause of my anxiety.

the weeks after the wedding have been much of the same & i finally understand why that is. Plain & simple, i didn’t want to be around my parents. i did not want to be reminded of what my life has always been. i wanted to, “leave sleeping dogs where they lied,” if you will & pretend that life was in a far off place i barely knew. one i did not care to remember being a part of..but i’ve learned all too well you can’t do that. it will always be my life…& i’m just now learning, as difficult as it will forever be for me, that’s okay……

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2 thoughts on “raising my parents

  1. I’m sorry…I’m sorry that your parents behave like children and I’m so sorry, that they did their best to try ruin one of the happiest days of your life. I’ve only read 2 of your blog posts and I already know that you are an Amazing, Strong woman and I’m so happy that you found someone that will be there to love and support you!!!

    Liked by 1 person

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