Saturday 18 October 2014

Why I Have Written This Blog (Read This First)



This post was written first in October 2013. I have pushed it to the top of this blog because it needs to be read first. All other posts are posted from most recent to earliest.

There is a link about two thirds through this post. Click on the link when you see it. It is important to read it.

What No Contact (NC) Is and Is Not
NC is not us punishing her/them. It is us protecting ourselves by not having contact with an abuser. It's that simple.

A timeline of the last few years.

2009
We lent My Mother (herein called Momster) and Her Husband (HH) $20,000. We had lent them money before and they had always paid us back. We didn't think anything of it. They had a great unit and racehorses and were constantly going on holidays and cruises and they had just bought a Jaguar. After all, they told us they only sold the BIG house and moved into the unit because it was becoming too much for them. 

Nothing to be concerned about right? And we could trust Momster and HH. They were good people, right? They had so much integrity, right?

Mothers love their children right?

July 2010
My partner AB fell off our roof and nearly died; 15 fractures, collapsed lungs, torn shoulders, the works. He needed a lot of putting back together and care. I was working full time, caring for him and trying to keep our business alive on the side. I was so grateful I still had him with me I did not notice how tired and stressed I was getting. I just kept going. I had been trained as a child to keep going. To cope. To endure. To never consider how I was 'feeling'.

November 2010
Then AB's mother had a stroke and subsequently died. The family home had to be sold, along with everything that entails, including more stress. I really was at my limit of being able to cope. 

But * I * Kept * Coping *

While all of this was going on I was getting asked repeatedly for money by Momster, sometimes she screamed down the phone  - " The vultures are circling, are you going to help us or not" - when a race horse they 'owned' was not getting the price they wanted in the sale yard. Other times she did her 'woe is me you are such a good daughter can you help us' act.

It didn't matter which act was used, the hoovering (yes, like the vacuum cleaner that is designed to suck things in), the result was the same: I was a Dutiful Daughter who had never allowed to establish boundaries with Momster and I got sucked in.

I kept lending them money, trusting Momster, trusting HH. Stupid huh?

March 2011
Momster and HH handed us a statutory declaration (still have it btw). The Stat Dec outlined the loans we had made to them as of March '11: $75,000.

"We agree to pay this back as soon as possible, with interest calculated at 8%, starting from 1st March, 2011. This interest will be annual and added to the amount each year until paid".

Momster said, in case they died, we could claim against their estate. We did not ask for this Stat Dec and was duly impressed with their honesty. We trusted them. After all, they said when they sold their unit they would pay us back.

But when I read it now I see it was just a piece of paper with ink on it. It was just another manipulative tactic.

April 2011
They were going broke and the last asset they had was the capital in their unit. We (thinking generously) made a decision they could build a 'granny flat' in the space that was my art studio, move in with us, sell the unit and pay us back. They would pay for the build. 

We thought that was a fair plan: they would not be homeless or at the mercy of free market rent and we would get our money back. As they got older we would look after them and help where we could. We were trying to help them. We were trying to be good people. We were trying to do the 'right thing'. We were trying to 'fix' things.

Every friend we spoke to said loudly, "Don't do it". My Family of Origin (FOO) did not say a thing.

FOO is a balancing act where every person has their role and anyone stepping outside their role causes havoc to the FOO dynamic.

May 2011
AB's mother's estate was finalised and AB inherited some money. We sold the business (at a bargain rate out of need) and he went in for surgery the very next day: 12 weeks rehab and physio followed. I was still trucking along managing clients across this vast State I live in.

What neither of us realised was Momster and HH had their eyes on his inheritance. 

She often said: 'My father left me nothing but a $50 note'.

What she meant was: 'Why should AB get something that I did not get'. 

Somebody getting something that she did not means there is less in the world for her.

June 2011
Being such a Dutiful Daughter I gave my mother a credit card (on my account) so they could start building. A friend of theirs was the main builder, 'RS'. We all pitched in, including AB when his shoulder healed (thanks for asking, he was diligent with the physio and made a full recovery).

During the six months June to January, all up we were out of pocket $190,000+. But we were now the proud owners of a very expensive shed. 

They sucked us dry. But they would pay us back when the unit was sold…

Little did we know they were borrowing elsewhere - $30k off her brother and his wife (and who knows what from other people. Did they ask you for a loan?). They knew the total debt they were carrying could not be covered by the unit's capital. We did not.

$100k PLUS to fit out a shed with second hand goods and mates rates labour? Where did our money go?

January 2012
Momster and HH moved in to the granny flat with a great deal of help from friends and family. From that moment on, unbelievably, * things * got * worse *.

She knew no boundaries, walking into our home whenever she took the fancy; night or day; whether I was working from home or not; whether we expressly told her not to. Nope. It was all about her: her need to control, to be worshipped, listened to, helped, paid attention to.

And we needed to be put in our places!

We lost all privacy in our own home and AB's depression, which he had been battling quite well for more than a decade, was well and truly spiralling out of control.

* I * Kept * Coping *

I was such a Dutiful Daughter. So helpful, so forgiving, so used to doing whatever she wanted, when she wanted it done, how she wanted it done, preferably before she even asked. She had trained me up well!

Pavlov's Dog ringing any bells?

April 2012
Still dutiful, still helpful, still generous and willing to try and make this situation work, we spent two weeks cleaning and repainting their unit so they would get a good price when it was sold.

May 2012
The unit sold and that was when they dropped the bombshell.

"We can only pay you $30,000 back. We have other debts to pay. And we need to keep $10,000 for ourselves".

The conversation went something like this:

Us - WTF! Pay us back and go bankrupt. Put us first.
Them - No.
Us - Why not?
Them - Why should we?
Us - Because you are bankrupt and we are more important than a credit card company…
Them - We need our pride…get over it.

What debts could be more important than money lent to you by your daughter and her partner? Their false pride versus doing the right thing, let alone our financial future?

We went numb.  We went into shock. We tried to rationalise this decision of theirs. And make no mistake, it was both of them. HH was not prepared to go bankrupt because then he would have to hand in his racecourse membership. Such hardship!

For the record, they did not pay us rent. They (sometimes) paid the $200 a week interest bill on the money they owed us. 

Their horse would come in and win, they said.
They would be able to pay us back, they said.

Get over it, she said. Again and again.

The one thing they never said was sorry. They have never apologised, not once, in any form whatsoever, for anything. 

What is ours is hers, what is hers is hers. 
So be careful, what is yours may end up hers as well.

July 2012
I was diagnosed with a possible heart condition and spent three weeks wondering if I was going to drop dead before the angiogram. Turns out it was JUST stress. Funny that.

Needless to say we were not 'getting over it'. My Mother and Her Husband had stolen so much money off us they had ruined our financial future and changed the shape of lives so profoundly that we would have to sell our house, eventually.

Depression hit, along with too much alcohol.

And because we could not 'forgive and forget' and act like nothing had ever happened, as I have always done in the past (even when she dumped me on my grandmother so she could hang out with her boyfriend when I was in high school), her rages ramped up. 

The screaming at us, the picking of fights, the put downs, the verbal attacks and name calling. 


But I did not see this as abuse. Abuse was sexual, broken bones and bloody faces wasn't it? That's what I had always been told. This was just Momster's behaviour when no one who 'counted' was around to see it. 

It was my normal. 

"Nothing exposes our true selves more than how we treat each other in the home" - Joseph B Wirthlin


We started to argue between ourselves, my gentle, lovely AB and me. The whole situation, the lead up to it, the compounded stress of years of bullshit had started to affect our relationship. 

And then the stress got worse (yes it's possible).

September 2012
My Mother and Her Husband were staying at brother 'D's house when I got a phone call from brain-damaged brother, 'S'. His partner 'H' of 10 years had dropped dead the night before of a massive heart attack. 

S was bereft, distraught, terrified. In need of comfort, security, support.

I called Momster to tell her and within days she had admitted herself to hospital with neck pain. It turned into a chest infection, which meant she did not have to go to the funeral and was off the hook. Even 'H's' death had to be about Momster. I went to the funeral and had my first ever, full-blown panic attack. I held myself together on 20 milligrams of Valium a day.

October 2012
Back home the abuse continued from Momster. During one verbal assault the following happened.

I said: So the last little bit of your life is worth the same as the next one third of ours?
She said: Of course!
I said: You are nothing but a bully and always have been.
She said: I spent half a million bringing you up so you still owe me. GET OVER IT!

I was still in shock when I Googled "sense of entitlement" and found myself here. That was my light bulb moment.

But like a Dutiful Daughter and her kind, polite spouse, we still showed up to HH's October birthday party and played 'happy families'. It's all about her image after all.

The breakdown of her first marriage had nothing to do with her either (BTW - my father did not bash, beat or hit his wife regardless of what she tells you. I lived in that house. I know, as do my brothers. We were the ones hit, by both of them).

November 2012
To compound the stress and the grief AB and I were feeling (and it was grief, because the people we thought they were had died), our beloved white dog died suddenly one night. 

The spiral kept going downwards.

Take 1: AB's 50th. Our planned trip to Bribie Island was cancelled as AB's sister was hospitalised for suspected lung cancer (+ to stress quotient).

December 2012
Take 2: AB's 50th. A flash dinner with friends was cancelled - bushfire on the ridge and we were on evacuation alert…

January 2013
By now neither of us was coping very well. I saw my GP, who gave me a choice, medication or therapy: diagnosis - severe anxiety. I chose therapy. My GP gave me medication as well. 

Seeing a therapist was, next to choosing AB to share my life, the single best thing I have ever done for myself.

Take 3: AB's 50th. We plan another week at Bribie. A few days before we leave there was another huge fight picked by My Mother. She came into our house yet again and * just * picked * a * fight * (+ to stress quotient again).

You see, I had sold two pieces of furniture she had given us over the years (apparently she had just loaned them to me for 15 years) and she flew into a rage (the full story is posted under The Great Furniture Saga). 

Getting nowhere abusing me, she directed the rage onto AB. He responded by yelling at her to get out of our house. She screamed insults at him ("you are shades of her father" was a beauty!). He screamed back at her to get out of our house. 


He called her a narcissistic bitch as she left.

At which point she calmly said,* I * Am * Not * A * Narcissist *

I had another light bulb moment: I am sure she actually got a diagnosis when I was in my early twenties and I will post that story later. 

We left for Bribie Island a couple of days later.

Take 3: AB's 50th. A week on Bribie and I started therapy. Sadly, AB's birthday ended up with us waiting for a 'We are not in Kansas anymore' moment; ex-Cyclone Oswald and a tornado hit the island. Back home it flooded our house.

AB, by default, stayed 49 years old. Yay!

When we returned home My Mother spoke not a word to us. Even when we hitched up generators and electricity cables, she simply turned her nose in the air, as if suffering mortal offense and waiting for an apology from us.

Deep sigh! 

It's all about how wounded she was feeling of course. It's all about her. It's all about control. Always has been.

March 2013
Still not a word has passed between us and her. 

Happy Easter: our brown dog was attacked by wild dogs. Nearly dead from the mauling, she pulled through after a very expensive 11 day stay in hospital (further + to stress quotient).

May 2013
AB is hospitalised for depression.

June 2013
AB comes home and is a bit better. In the first week or so home he fixes up his gym and hangs some wardrobe door mirrors on the gym wall (Momster bought them on eBay with our money but they were not used, just left cluttering up the gym for a year and a half: cost was $10/$20).

But she can't leave well enough alone. She needs to control.

AB is in his garage when she comes in ranting at him - he stole her 'expensive' mirrors and hung them in his gym. He is a thief! (This is projection BTW, more about that later).

A few hours later I walked out to the flat and told them they had to find somewhere else to live, because we could not continue living under these circumstances. I did not give them a deadline, but told them to get organised to leave and to put all further communication in writing. No more verbal abuse and no more bullying would be tolerated.

I set a boundary for the first time and was prepared to see it through - thank you therapy!

July 2013
Seven weeks after the above, on July 17th, I emailed them (cc to brother 'D,' so he knew what was going on), asking what their plans were, and for all further communication be in writing.

Yay! I reinforced a boundary - thank you therapy!

August 2013
She replied August 7th.
Subject: Your plans to leave
Hi,
We are not prepared to communicate only by electronic means.  This whole thing has gone on for too long. We would like to begin again and talk to you when you return, at your chosen time. The past is gone and can't be undone. We have no bad feelings towards you or AB and hope you can feel the same.
Hate does nothing but destroy people.
Mum 

Notice her complete disregard for my boundary? I can see that now - thank you therapy!

Notice how nothing is her fault. Notice how we are expected to 'forget and forgive' and start again.


But after a lightbulb moment abuse amnesia is not possible - the world is just too bright. 
I send two more emails and stick to my boundary about all communication being in writing.

Not a word has been spoken between her and me for 8 months. The only time she has spoken to AB is when she is accusing him of theft, being a loser or just plain ranting at him. 

A friend of ours comes to visit near the end of the month, 'L'.

Then on August 30th, the email that makes my decision to hand a Notice to Leave form pops up in the in-box.

"Subject: Your plans to throw us out
It will be in the nearish future. I suggest you research Korsakoffs Syndrome , particularly regarding the Extrapolation and the Confabulation  and Wernicke-Korsakoff syndrome. The loss of memory, which you may deny, is a force, as you cannot remember from one day to the next. All written down on the computer it is there and not hard to forget.

I stopped the compound interest on the amount you owe me at about $500.000. i have the receipts. No need for that at all.
We will be leaving here after Xmas and you wont have to think about us at all.

Don't be too hard on yourself. Hate achieves nothing and guilt can only be laid on some else if it is there fault
I wonder if I was having FUN and you were just standing there on the outside looking in. I guess you were more of a watcher than a doer.
Mum"

NB: the $500,000 mentioned above is the debt I owe Momster for bringing me up. If you are a parent, do you have the same attitude towards your children?

But hang on - she has always told me she had never wanted girls. Why didn't I listen?


The difference between shame and guilt is this: 


Guilt is when you have DONE something wrong and you can apologise, make amends, and hopefully, be forgiven.


Shame is when you are told you ARE something wrong. I was a girl and wrong from the day I was born.

September 2013
That email makes my mind up. It's Saturday the 1st and 'L' and I are talking. I am near to an anxiety attack and take some medication to stop my shaking. AB goes to the shed to get away. 

Even now, after all this, he does not want to have to make this decision and sign the form. We are both so sad it has come to this, but I know there is no other option if we are to protect ourselves.

But she can't help herself…

I hear AB calling out, 'Where's that effing form', as he stomps up the back stairs, shaking and furious.

Yep! She did it again. She made the effort to go into his garage and start in on him. He yelled back and walked away. We sign the form, walk out the back with 'L' and hand deliver it.

But I am a bit smarter at this stage of the game and put my phone on 'record'. I won't post it online, but among the lovely things she has to say she says something to me, while pointing at AB, that dispels any doubt I may have had about our decision.

She said: 'There were all these beautiful men in the world and you dragged that home'.


Remember she knows he has been battling depression for decades, she knows he has recently been hospitalised for the same, and she is a trained psyche nurse. 

She knows exactly the damage she is doing. She just does not care.


UNFORGIVEABLE!

She sends an email on the 6th telling us an important email will arrive soon…cliff hanging suspense. It arrives on the 7th after being sent to who knows who. 

The gist of it was, her life is perfect, we are f#%ked, give us another $5000 and we will move out. If not, she will have an AVO taken out against AB for abuse. The email is here.

Extortion and blackmail - I engaged a solicitor on the 10th and did not respond to the email. 

And from then on, we were prisoners in our own home, being instructed by both our solicitor and the police to not ever create a situation whereby Momster was alone with AB because, at any time, she could throw herself on the ground and scream battery.


She is a frail, defenceless old lady and everyone who knows AB knows he is a big, violent, nasty man...

October 2013
Over a few weeks they start showing up with a white van and moving stuff. We have still not spoken. On October 15 a removals' truck appeared and two men start loading furniture.

There is one small altercation when I say a box of Christmas decorations are ours not hers. She takes the box off me but I do retrieve my two favourites: a ball made of our white dogs fur and a glass bauble we bought in Singapore. I really don't know how they ended up in her box of deccies, but in comparison to what has been taken off us, WTF, she can keep the shiny, shiny things.

The truck drove off, followed by them. Her elbow was out the passenger window and she smirked her special 'I got away with it' smirk. I know that look well, and I knew she had done something 'wrong'.

We walk out to the flat and look through windows (we don't have a key). We can see most of their stuff is gone: bed, fridge, shelves (leaving holes in the walls), lounges, most everything.

But so is the air conditioner!!!

They ripped the bloody aircon off the wall and stole it.

More shiny things? 

Ripping the aircon off the wall shows they can't be trusted to act honestly at the most basic level. It makes me very angry.

We put a padlock on the gate, call the police and I send a text message to them both (cc to brother 'D'). The text instructs them that, as they have moved out, they need to text us to arrange a time to retrieve the rest of their stuff, as the police will need to be present from now on. 

And that is why we have gone no contact with Momster and HH.

October 20th 2013
HH showed at 9am with two friends.

I speak with HH and say, 'Do not take any fittings or fixtures, do not leave any more holes in walls. And why did you steal the air-con?'


He said: 'You can't prove that. We paid for it with a credit card. We need it'.


The Police attend and have a chat to them. We wait in our house wishing it was all over. Wishing we had never tried to help in the first place.


Most of all I wish I had trusted my gut and gone no contact 20+ years ago. I always knew there was 'something' wrong, but could not put my finger on it.


And I was such a Dutiful Daughter...


So watch yourselves people.


They had no conscience nagging at them when they took advantage of us and our good nature. Chances are they will no conscience nagging at them when it’s your turn to be the one being taken advantage of - emotionally, financially, in whatever way suits her. 

Momster is an emotional vampire of the first order. A malignant, toxic, selfish, thieving, manipulative, deluded, cruel, nasty, witch. HH is her enabler. 
If you don't believe me, drop in, feel free to go through our bank statements and other records. There is no deniability on her part possible.

October 27th 2013
I turn 49 years old. Bro S, one SIL and a niece are the only family members who contact me to wish me happy birthday. For the first time in my life Aunty R does not send me a card. I am officially dead...long live dysfunction!