Misery Guts.

In my teens (and even before then) I was always an optimist. Always considered every angle and always looked on the bright side of things wherever possible.

 

As I grew up, and the world enveloped me, my cynical side began to grow to the point it is at today - "Grumpy Old Man!" Negative thoughts abound on the state of the world, how different it is now to how things 'used to be', how much better things are today in terms of technology - but how that negatively impacts on things like schooling and social development - the list can go on and on.  I wear my grumpy old man label with pride at times and yet, occasionally, my more relaxed and open minded younger self will rear his head and try to counter the negativity. It is a welcome break and I enjoy seeing my old self every now and then.

 

But, there is one person in my life who positively exudes negativity - and as far as I can see always has. I'm talking about my Mother in Law - I call her "the Portender of Doom!"

 

The PoD is my wife's mother and she loves her dearly - but I can see how Lesley has been strongly influenced by the negativity of her mother over the years. I myself have been affected by her in the twenty or so years I've known her - to the point of depression.

 

A typical conversation with her goes like this:

 

Me: "Hello, isn't it a lovely day?"

PoD: "They've got snow in Cumbria. It's heading this way."

Me: "Well it's not here yet, lets enjoy the sunshine, catch some rays."

PoD: "It was on the telly about all the skin cancer. It's rife."

Me: "Pass me that razor blade, would you!"

 

Lesley suffers so badly with anxiety and panic attacks and we've been looking for a cause - her father's death when she was eleven? Being bullied at school? Well, yes, to an extent, but since these events she has lived with her mother and all the doom and gloom that seems to emanate from her - it's no wonder she's anxious. Even now, married for fifteen years and with a young daughter of her own, she is dominated to the point of being scared of her mother.

 

It's a very true story in a lot of households up and down the country - 'your parents screw you up!"  My own Mother domineered me to the point of physically abusing me. She was a bully, still is no doubt but thankfully I broke free when I was sixteen - with my mother's blessing I might add. Unfortunately Lesley did not, and has not yet.  What gets all of us, as offspring of crazy people, is that they often quote the biblical saying that you must "honour thy father and mother." and we try so hard to live up to this edict, that we end up being miserable old gits and hating them for it.

www.mcarthurbaker.co.uk

ABC Wednesday - 'R'

ABC Wednesday already? So many words to choose that begin with the letter 'R' - even more difficult than last week's 'Q'!!!

R is for....the ability to form........

Relationships

In spite of my own very jaded, entirely dysfunctional, relationship with my mother, my primary concern with Emily was that she should be able to forge a very strong and healthy set of relationships within our family circle (Which comprises of Lesley's relatives, not mine.) My family life left me with a lot of baggage - very shy, very withdrawn, very difficult to get to know, very scarred by my early relationships - I could have quite easily drifted into a life of solitude had it not been for Lesley. Because of my upbringing I find forming friendships very difficult, relationships even more so.

I never knew my father, he was off the scene soon after we returned from Cyprus when he and mother divorced. I had a close bond with Peter, my mother's second husband, but he soon got sick of mother's ways and eventually he too was off the scene - I stayed in touch for a while but eventually he found himself a new life with children of his own.

Mother alienated herself further from us and married for a third time. After that she became a distant memory for a long time, then she was back after the birth of my daughter, briefly, and now she's gone again.

My strongest relationship from childhood was that with my Nana and Grandad- mother seemed keen for them to look after me (probably because she couldn't be bothered.) - and they took up the gauntlet with gusto. Sadly Grandad died in 1976 - three days before my eleventh birthday (I've still got the card he had already signed) After that Nana put most of her efforts into raising me. I became the son she never had and she was the only constant in my life until her death in 2005. (Well, almost - but that's a different story to be told some other time!)

We wanted Emily's family life to be so very different from my early experiences - and in the main I think we've succeeded - Lesley and Emily are the only people who see the true me and I hope that Emily will feel a thousand times more safe and secure and loved than I ever did as a child. She seems happy enough now - but only time will tell I suppose - but strong relationships can only be built over time, so there's a way to go yet.

Happy Birthday Mum!! (Yeah, right!)

The first 'Musing of a Misery' concerns my family. It'll give you an idea as to why I'm so bloody miserable - but fear not, for I do have a sense of humour too, and hopefully that will prevail over the miseries. I urge you, read on....... By the way, if you've just found me from The Old Crohn, you'll realise that we are one and the same - and that this post is a duplicate of one on there - just to kick things off!

If I had a picture of my Mother on this computer I'd post it here today. Today is her 64th birthday after all, so you'd expect some kind of recognition or even a bit of a celebration of her life so far. It's what normal families do, isn't it?

The fact that I haven't seen her since the summer of 2003, or spoken to her since March 2005, should be alien to most families. Not to mine.

Prior to the birth of my daughter in 2003, and for reasons best known to herself and her third husband, Mother had decided to exclude me (and my brother) from her life for nine years. It was not until six months after Emily was born that I plucked up the courage to write to her to advise her that she was a grandmother. Her response was that of a normal Mother - we visited her (once she'd told us where she was living) and for a few hours one day in 2003 we were a normal family. She was overwhelmed with Emily and seemed genuinely delighted that we should put the past behind us and move forward. I was wary. With good reason.

A few days after the visit I called her and she was cool again. I asked what was wrong but she didn't want to say (or couldn't, or wouldn't) and a few days later an email arrived from her husband Richard, who advised me that I should stay away or he would call the police. His reasons? Apparently I had not called Mother to thank her for the birthday card she'd sent me and he'd assumed that the reason I hadn't called her was because she'd not included any money with the card, and that I was a scrounger, a layabout, a liar and a cheat. He is quite mad and has driven my Mother, who was never quite the full shilling, to his mad ways. Alienating her from the entire family on her behalf, but I suspect secretly with her full approval.

In March 2005 I got a call from her, out of the blue, to advise me that she had been diagnosed with osteoporosis and that I should let Steven (my Brother) know "as it's hereditary." Why she couldn't call him herself I'll never know. At some point in the conversation I mentioned my Nana (her Mother), her response? "I don't want to talk about that woman!" I said "You do realise that she died last month - Richard did tell you, didn't he?" The phone fell silent for a brief moment and she repeated that she didn't want to talk about 'that woman!'. Clearly Richard had not passed on the news of her Mother's death. This explains the reason for her failure to attend the funeral.

I haven't spoken to her since. She married Richard in 1983 and quite quickly began to alienate herself from the rest of the family. Steven was first in 1986 when she 'boycotted' his wedding because of some minor disagreement over seating plans. Even the birth of her first grandchild in 1990 couldn't heal the rift - though Steven tried, and again with his second child in 1992 - to no avail. She boycotted my wedding in 1993 because I'd invited my brother. All in all, between 1983 and the present day, I have seen my Mother less than ten times.

The family had never been really close due to my Mother's ways, but after Richard came along it divided, sub-divided and sub-divided further to the point of no return.

For Mother, today will have no flowers, cards, presents, chocolates, tacky ornaments with "To the Best Mum In The World!" lovingly etched upon their surface, no visiting offspring, no dropping by sister, no high-pitched telephone calls from shy little grandchildren.

Today will be a day for Mother, with the eager support of her doting husband, to reflect on how badly she has been treated by her family, when really she should be looking closer to home, and within her own heart.

I'm sad for what could have been.