pre-wedding jitters..kind of

I took my daughter to ballet this morning, and upon my return was shocked to see a for sale sign leering at me on my front lawn - forgot about that bit. I feel a bit of the ole panic stations setting in and I am not really sure why. I am as nervous as crap, like I am staging an event or a wedding or some such theatrical performance where timing and atmosphere and all that was rehearsed must go according to plan or risk a bout of luke-warm reviews from potential ticket holders, or grumblings from the disgruntled guests who brought the expensive presents.

Speaking of staging, a friend offered to have the kids while the stager was here; she is here now. I asked her what I could do, but she shooed me away and told me to relax and make myself a cuppa. I must say, I feel entirely useless and don't really know what to do with myself (typical), so I thought I would blog instead. I could read a book I guess, but I don't think I could concentrate anyway. I promise I will post a piccie of the staged room in the next post.

I just hope the place sells quickly. We have been slaving away like who knows what trying to get this place looking like a vogue magazine on a TV week budget. I have ditched piles of stuff...one really doesn't need a whole lot to get on in this world, so why cart a whole lot of useless stuff around the globe only to have it sit there gathering dust readying itself for its next international voyage (God forbid).

Yesterday I stumbled upon a pile of suspicious looking folders. Upon opening them I found they were in fact my entire catalogue of school report cards from 1979-1990 (shudder). I remember my Mum giving them to me one time when she moved, but I don't think I have ever read them. Of course that led me to waste the next two hours as I scanned the horrors of my early academic history.

Actually it was a bit of an eye opener to read them all at once. There were some definite themes that perhaps should have been addressed: "struggles to comprehend written instructions", "extremely slow at working things out", "gets frustrated", "makes silly errors", day dreams", "needs to listen more carefully", "careless". I have long wondered if I am actually dyslexic, as such themes have continued to be issues for me - particularly the comprehension aspects. I tend to have a private panic attack whenever a timed written comprehension test is presented as part of a recruitment drive. Time and time again, this will be the part in the test that sees me exited from the program. But then again, what good is worrying about that now - the horse has bolted so to speak, and this is who I am - stick to what you are good at kiddo!

The hornet's nest

I don’t think anger is useful in the long term. I have heard the phrase, “anger is like cancer”, but I rather think that CANCER is materialised anger and other negative emotions; albeit deep-seeded, old, stale anger, and anger, which is no longer identifiable, justifiable or comprehendable, regarding its originating source.

I carry that kind of anger around in me. I wish I didn’t. I have tried to rid myself of it, run from it, avoid it, but try as I might, I can’t let it go and it worries me that this anger will manifest and take over my inner self; eat away at my internal organs, sabotage my efforts to move forward, and drain me of the life force.

Something happened three years ago.

My daughter was born, and two days after my release from hospital, my sister-in-law (SIL) called me. I had only seen her five days prior, when she, her boyfriend and my mother-in-law (MIL) visited me in the hospital. When they visited SIL looked withdrawn, dishevelled and unhappy, prompting me to ask if she were ok. She said she was.

Later, when SIL called, she was in a bit of a state. A woman from her church was with her. Apparently SIL had fled from her, allegedly abusive boyfriend, whom she had only recently moved in with. She tried to return home to her mother, but SIL was urged to sort it out with him. I listened to what SIL had to say. She was crying. She said she was afraid, and asked if she could stay with us for a while, since the boyfriend didn’t know our address. I should have said “No”…..

I know that doesn’t sound very compassionate, but seriously…I should have just said, “No. I understand this is a difficult time for you right now, but this is kind of a difficult time for us too - what with the new baby and all. I am sorry. I care about you, but I just can’t help you right now.”

If I had taken this line; been selfish; turned my back on family - this girl, I regarded as Sister, then I wouldn’t be feeling this rage right now – old rage; the type of rage that stirs occasionally, like a hornet’s nest that has just received a beating.

I won’t go into the particularities of the entire sordid story, but we were basically screwed over. SIL made some outlandish claims about the boyfriend; some that made my skin crawl, and I heard other things about this guy that, as a parent, were so frightening that I felt inclined to state very clearly to SIL and MIL, that this guy was, under no circumstances, welcome in our home or near our children.

While SIL was staying with us, we were bombarded by constant, lengthy calls from my MIL, sometimes till three in the morning, and then coupled calls from members of SIL’s church. MIL is not right in the head. I say this not out of disrespect, but fact. She has some undiagnosed psychiatric issues, and is an extremely manipulative person.

I used to excuse her behaviour, laugh it off, be offended by her insensitivity, and annoyed by her frustrating, self defeating antics for a day or so, but I used to get over it. During this time however, she crossed the line, and no matter how much I vent and rage, and spew forth the toxic outpourings of my soul concerning the crap we have endured because of this woman, I am left heaving, and feeling as though I have barely scraped the surface, when it comes to my anger toward her.

My Grandpa died while SIL was staying with us; just two weeks after my daughter was born. My Grandpa had suffered a lengthy battle with cancer – three years - but the final four months had taken their toll on my family and they were worn down, tired and even traumatised by his final weeks – they requested a small, private, “immediate family only” funeral for him…so SIL stayed home. Minutes after we had backed out of the driveway, on our way to my Grandpa’s funeral, SIL rang MIL. MIL suggested that she talk to the boyfriend, so while we were supposedly secretly harbouring SIL – at her request mind you- MIL gave out our phone number and address to the scary boyfriend, whom we have just been clued up on, and now believed to be an unstable, predatory psycho.

Apparently they met up and began plotting their reunion, which MIL knew all about; a process that strategically took place over the course of the next couple of weeks. We found this out months later, when MIL could bare the guilt concerning her part in the deception, no longer.

Despite SIL being an adult, and certainly not being forced to stay with us, SIL still felt it necessary to persist with the idea that she no longer wanted the boyfriend in her life, and had been abused by him. She had a cast of people running after her at this point in time: us, various crisis agencies, members of her church congregation and her friends – her best friend (BF) even offering her home to her - they were reportedly excited at the prospect of becoming house mates together.

When we dropped SIL off at her BF’s house, SIL thanked us for what we had done for her and seemed upbeat and hopeful. Nevertheless, I checked up on her regularly via phone, to make sure she was ok. After being really open with me at first, she became increasingly distant and secretive with each conversation, until finally I called one day, and her BF told me she had moved back home with her Mum, and it was back on with the boyfriend.

The news disappointed me, but I was not surprised. I think the average number of times a partner leaves an abusive situation before finally leaving forever, is seven. So I let it go, it was her life, and that was that.

It was only later that I learnt all this other stuff – the MIL inspired meeting and pressure for SIL to reunite with the boyfriend. MIL even telling SIL that HE was her only chance of marriage – she was only 23 at the time. MIL decided to defend the boyfriend for reasons beyond my comprehension, “I am the only one who understands him”, she creepily swooned.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, SIL told people that she made up all that crap about The Boyfriend because she “just needed a break” (gee, thanks). Then she changed her story to say that the church made up lies about her boyfriend (why would they want to do that?). Now no one is really straight with us on this one, but the Boyfriend (now SIL’s husband and father of one, and one on the way) has been demanding, for a couple of years now, an apology from us. I have no idea what we are supposed to have done to warrant such a request; so far we have not obliged.

MIL once took the stand that she wouldn’t be visiting us until we apologised to him, accepted him into our home and played happy families, because she “just didn’t feel comfortable around us anymore”. I told her she “had no right to make such demands regarding who we welcomed into our own home” …among other things. But she held out for five months, basically missing out on seeing the kids all that time. It really hurt us to think that she was prepared to emotionally blackmail us and reject mere babes, in order to get her way.

Every time we have spoken to her over the past three years, whether it be in person; alone or with company, or over the phone, she has brought up the SIL and boyfriend incident. Frankly, Ashley and I are sick to DEATH over it. We don’t want to hear another word about it, and were pretty comfortable with the idea of never seeing any of them again…so, all in all I was glad to leave all that shit behind and move overseas – not that they were the reason for us leaving.

Then at the end of November last year, I received a letter from SIL. She apologised for what happened and said she wanted to make amends, but still claimed that the church made up all that tripe about the boyfriend, in an attempt to break them up (again, what for?).

I was actually happy to get SIL’s letter and wrote back expressing as much, but relating my confusion about the church thing, not declaring her claims as deluded BS but instead saying that church must be filled with nutters to do something like that –subtler words to that effect, of course (LOL). Then I expressed a willingness and want to start over with the boyfriend come husband. I sent that letter, thinking I had created a sensitively written response.

MIL informed us that the letter didn’t go down too well. Apparently I was an asshole for even responding to those aspects of the letter. I should have just nodded with a blank, glaze-eyed stare, and bowed down before them for even acknowledging my existence and cried “all is forgiven, I am at your mercy! Please forgive me. I am the Devil”. Anger boiled in me at this news, and they all basically got the “screw you” line, although they couldn’t hear me in Canada.

Over the course of the last 5 or so months, the undiffused anger settled to the bottom of my inner tank, waiting to be stirred up again.

I received another letter from SIL today. In it, SIL told me she “needed to forgive me” - blood boiling point number one. Then she said the boyfriend come husband was still very angry about how the church had treated him, and was still requiring an apology from ME – I have never even been to, nor associated with that damn church in any way shape or form. The hornet’s nest has now been beaten to a dusty pulp. The hornets are banging furiously against the inside of my rib cage – I can feel them. I am so angry that I feel like writing a letter back to them, simply advising them to “go to hell” - don't worry, I won't.

As I said at the start of this lengthy post, I am carrying this anger that never completely goes away, but rather smolders for a time, like hot coals under a charred piece of tree stump. The wind only need pick up momentarily, and the entire forest might suddenly be set ablaze.

I can't handle this anger in me anymore, but I don’t know how to let it go.