More importantly: what are the kids learning about relationships, respect, stability, and boundaries? Why would you want to model blatant dysfunction and present maladjustment to them as normal?
More likely: they discovered that no one else is willing to tolerate them. I’m not surprised. But if you’re going to make serial demented decisions, how about leaving the kids out of it for once?
I was swamped at work yesterday, and I left much later than I had expected. Traffic was, of course, slower than my liking, and it took forever to get home. I was only home a few minutes when my cat started sneezing, and I called the vet, turned around, went right back out the door, and went to the pharmacy to pick up the antihistamines the vet said I could give to him.
When I got home the second time, it was oh-so-tempting to toss my work clothes into the hamper, put on comfy pajamas, and snuggle up with my husband. But I had promised myself I would work out when I got home, so I grit my teeth, wiggled into workout clothes, and hopped onto my exercise bike.
One of my favorite Peloton instructors is Cody Rigsby, because he is just so silly and goofy and funny. You never know what is going to come out of his mouth next, or what dance move he’s going to throw down, defying gravity by not falling right off his bike.
So I chose one of his classes, and I am glad I did. I randomly picked one that seemed like it had good music. It was a good workout, and Cody said something that made me laugh but also stayed in my head. When we were getting ready to increase the intensity of the ride, he described how, at a restaurant, when the server walks by with that sizzling plate of fajitas, everyone turns and looks and wonders who is getting those flashy fajitas. The fajitas capture everyone’s attention. He encouraged us to be the sizzling fajitas, not the complimentary tortilla chips, ha ha.
There you have it: immortal words of boundless inspiration and infinite wisdom, straight from Cody! Be the sizzling fajitas today, ladies and gentlemen. I am glad I chose to be sizzling fajitas last night instead of tortilla chips! Time to sizzle again today. What about you? 🙂
A narcissistic mother’s abuse of her children does not magically stop when the kids turn 18. In fact, it actually seems to amplify, as those kids begin to tentatively nudge their way out from under her noxious thumb.
Instead of celebrating and encouraging their burgeoning independence, she grinds down harder, deliberately erodes their confidence, and ultimately badmouths them and spreads childish rumors about them if they still choose to remove themselves from her repugnancy.
Essentially, when a child takes a stand and demonstrates any desire to not be a lying, mooching, batshit-crazy piece of shit like her, she pitches a toddler-style tantrum, resorts to grade-school retaliation tactics due to her emotional retardation, and regresses even further as a parent, a person, a human being.
She chooses to be this way. It is unfathomable, but she favors slithering over growing.
She will not tolerate the children being better than that, better than her, so she holds their heads under the filth and drowns them in her obscenity. She wants to destroy them, snuff out any part of them that is happy, caring, free, ambitious, independent…and not like her.
That is not a mother. At best, that is a stretched-out, shameless, foul incubator. That is a middle-aged loser whose parents pay her bills, cosset her, and supply her with a dingy trailer because she is too useless to even acquire that on her own.
No wonder narcissists lie so much. When you are undeniably worthless, fanciful lies must be so much more appealing than the truth.
Sweat & Sparkle 