I hate Mother's Day

This has been an incredibly hard weekend. I have felt so ridiculously emotionally raw since Friday. I keep trying to push it down, ignore it, distract myself...but it hasn't been working well at all. Everything is getting to me. I think I have cried more this weekend than I have in the past two years combined. It feels like PMS on crack. And I hate it. I hate feeling this way. I hate this dark cloud hanging over what should be a wonderful weekend.

I have sat and thought and thought and thought some more about why I am having this reaction. All I can come up with is that this has always been a bad weekend, especially after the two youngest kids were born. Their birthdays are May 8th and May 10th, so they always fall right around Mother's Day. You would think that would be a good thing. But I learned very well over many years with the ex that it is a very bad thing.

The root of a Narcissist is the need to always be center of attention and that the world MUST revolve around them at all times. Others are to never get attention or be in the spotlight. Yet there are times when, by nature of society, they are not the focus. Other people's birthdays, Mother's day, they have to share Christmas, etc. And on those days, the people who are being celebrated must pay for daring to get attention. And the narcissist will make sure they pay dearly, in one way or another. Their job is not done until someone is being raged at and the person is in tears. Then the narcissist's job is complete and they can feel good again.

Let me begin by explaining birthday parties. It doesn't matter that it's a child's birthday. Nothing matters except that the narcissist isn't getting attention constantly. Birthday parties are either over the top so that they can gloat about how much money they spent and how wonderful they are to throw such a big party or it is nothing more than a cake and presents with the family. And whatever the narcissist gives as a gift had better be the best gift received. It is the birthday boy's job to gush about how wonderful it is, how much they love it, how they have always wanted one...it doesn't even matter WHAT the gift is. As the non-narcissist part of the family, the other parent learns to fade into the background and let them have the attention. It doesn't matter if that parent is the one who bought everything, including said gift, decorated, baked a cake, cooked the food, and cleaned the house until it sparkled while the narcissist laid in bed. Their work behind the scenes is inconsequential because they don't matter.

Now imagine two of those in a weekend. Yeah, it was not pretty. And there was never enough attention. It would always end up with rage, accusations, tantrums, and sulking.

Add to that Mother's Day. The kids would give me gifts they had made at school, which I always loved. And he would make fun of them behind their backs. It made me so sad to hear the criticism of something they had worked so hard on and that they were so proud of. Then there would be his gift, if he bothered to get me something. In the early days it would be a box of my favorite chocolates. I would have to have one right away to show how much I loved them. Then I would have to share the rest. If I didn't and wanted to save them, then I was a horrible, selfish mother who didn't deserve to have children or get anything.

Later in the marriage, it became the tradition to get me flats of flowers. I do love to garden, so I did like the plants. But he didn't buy them for that reason. It was so that I would do the work to make the yard at HIS house look nice. It was never OUR house, always HIS. So, yes, it was my gift, but for his benefit.

We would have to go to church, so he could parade me around, showing off his "perfect" family. The whole time we would be on pins and needles, hoping we didn't say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing. And anything could set him off, but we wouldn't know until we got in the car to go home. Then the raging would start again. When we got home, he would storm off to his room, telling me to let him know when the food was ready, effectively canceling the rest of Mother's Day.

After I made a late lunch and we all ate in silence, afraid to speak and set him off again, I would get the kids outside. I would start working on planting and doing projects in the yard. I would try to stay out as long as possible and keep the kids away from him, knowing that it could get ugly fast. There was no rest for me on my day. It was constant vigilance, trying to maintain peace.

Once in a while, I would get a surprise and he would do something that made me think that just maybe this year could be different. Once he decided that he would take me out to eat after church. But he hadn't made reservations anywhere and the restaurants were full. So he drove from location to location, getting angrier and angrier. By this point we were all hungry, but didn't dare say a word. At some point, this all became my fault. And he raged and raged. The kids were little and scared in the back seat. I just kept looking ahead, trying to just breath and not cry. Finally, he found a place and we have to go in. He is back to pretending to be a loving, wonderful husband and father. We sat there, staring at our food, not speaking, choking down our meal while he criticized the food, the waitress, the decor, and the music. He paid, leaving a huge tip just to get attention,and then flirted with the cashier while I stood right there.

Another one that stands out in my mind. I was just released from the hospital after having our third son the day before. He carried the stuff up the stairs to the apartment we were living in at the time and got me settled on the couch. Then he told me he'd be back in several hours because his mom was in town and he needed to go see her. Oh, and he wasn't taking our other sons, who were 5 and 2 1/2, so I would have to make them something to eat because he didn't have time before he left. Oh, and I needed to clean up the apartment because he hadn't had time to do that, either. He planned to bring several of his brothers and sisters back that night to see the baby and he didn't want to be embarrassed by a messy house. Not that I needed to do much. Just vacuum, do the dishes, and clean the bathrooms. I mentioned the fact that I had just given birth yesterday and both exhausted and very, very sore. All he did was scream that he regretted marrying such a lazy, worthless woman and stormed out.

No wonder this weekend has been hard. It is filled with so many hard, painful memories. I am trying very hard to focus on the good things in my life. Trying to see that my kids love me and value me. That I have a man who is thoughtful and trying his best from a distance to make me feel loved and appreciated. But it just so darn hard to undo all of this damage. I keep trying. I keep reminding myself over and over that it's a day to be happy. That I deserve to be appreciated and loved. Not only today, but every day. That it's OK to receive gifts and that now they don't come with a price. I hope that one day it all sinks in and I can do that without the internal reminders.