Sad news, but why don't I feel sad?

***Warning, Not a positive post***

Yesterday my younger brother called to let me know that our maternal grandmother had passed away the night before, that he had just gotten a text from the older brother I have estranged myself from.

I was bothered on many levels about the phone, none of which had to do with my younger brother Ben, or the phone call in and of itself... But My older brother is"sorry for not being there for us", again. He is now 44 or 45 and I still don't believe it. His pleas for family fall on deaf ears. I try not to feel bitter and resentful of his "alleged" neediness... but memories of my co-existance with him as a child and memories of how as adults he was too busy to talk and had to go just minutes after calling him because "his pizza had arrived" or he " was shopping for car insurance"... and this after not speaking to each other for almost 8 months to a year.

Time and time again he refuses to hear Ben's and my valid complaints about our mother, and he cares little enough to retain the reasons that we have explained to him (repeatedly) why we both need to rid ourselves of her insanity, mental and physical abuse and codependent mess. He asks all the tough questions but then ends the call abruptly, while Ben and I sit there shaking, near gastro-intestinal distress from having to recant it all. AGAIN.

To make matters worse, I feel nothing but a slight sadness in my grandmother's passing. I felt bothered by this last night, and as I sit here trembling over my realization this morning... shame taints my day today. I do not feel sorry that this woman passed. The woman who heard her daughters speak of abuse by their father, her husband while she turned a blind eye. Chances are that my mother would have had problems anyway because of the way my grandmother raised her... But her denials definitely contributed to the monster my mother is today.

What I have not divulged on this blog is that I can remember My grandfather watching me and a foster child they had taken in play "doctor". This woman, who had ignored pleas from her own daughters... left her innocent grandchild alone with this man, and had taken in foster children knowing his predilections.

And my mother was either helpless as to where my older brother and I stayed or was too far gone to care in a mental institution that my grandparents and birth father had had her committed to.

I don't know why he (my grandfather) never followed through, and I thank God every day that he did not... but I still wake at night screaming because in my dreams I see him standing in my bedroom doorway... I see the evil intent and filth in his eyes, and it haunts me still to this day.

So, as I felt no sorrow for his passing 2 or 3 yrs ago... I feel nothing for her as well. I don't have many warm fond memories of my grandparents as most people do, I can only remember being punished for talking to my foster sister after bedtime by being locked outside in the back yard for 3 hours after dark for not going to sleep...being beaten by my grandmother with a slipper for spilling god knows what... and night terrors of my grandfather to this day.

On a positive note, though I never have been a perfect parent... I thank God for giving me children after 11 years of infertility, for giving me a chance to prove that my gene pool is not beyond repair, for giving this family line another chance.

And now , even though this pregnancy has started off as a rough one, I thank Him for blessing us again.

I put the "F U" in fun

Black Friday and holiday shopping fun, yes? This year not so much. What's with the killing of the people?The stampeding and gunfire? Are you kidding me?

Let me just say that though I have on occasion imagined myself bludgeoning someone while out rubbing elbows with people that I like to refer to as "rude, morally-bankrupt animals", I would never.... NEVER resort to violence outside of daydreaming when faced with not getting something that I want.

Is this what we have come to?

How does it make sense that a season, first and foremost named as the season of GIVING, should cause such hostility and homicidal tendencies? Oh, right. Christmas is no longer Merry Christmas... but XMAS, Happy Holidays, etc, etc, etc. 'Tis the season of give me more, because if you don't , you're a bad parent/child/sibling/grandchild and you don't really love me-me-me-me-me.

I will admit that I have been guilty of commercialism, of going over board because I want my kids to have all the things that I didn't, and I have come to realize that by doing so I have created mini monsters who play with new toys for about a week then grow bored of them. Lesson learned. We have scaled waaaaay back on gift giving for any holiday, and we donate the things no longer played with, the ones that are collecting dust.

It has been a painful process, realizing all that has been compromised... my children's egos, my wallet, and the core of our souls. No thing can make my kids love me, and no trinket can show them how much I love them. That is up to me, and up to them. I thank God that my husband and I have come to this realization before it was too late.

Oh, I'm sure we might get the "I'm looking for more presents underneath the ripped and tattered remains of what probably amounts to 3 trees" , and even a small "is that it?" look from at least one of my ankle biters... but we'll get there. Baby steps, people. ;)

But honestly? I'm not sure I want to buy into a holiday that has been tainted with sacrificial blood. Maybe I will opt out next year. Maybe the 25th of each month will be cause for celebration, and maybe, just maybe we can celebrate the true meaning of Christmas every day of every single year without killing someone.

That would be swell.

OK, I'm jumping off of my soapbox now, and I'll leave you with this thought (OK, I'm only standing with one foot on the soap box right now):

This being my first year of retail hell ( I work at the Tar-jay), I would emplore all of the lovely shoppers out there to at least try to put something back in its original spot. If you don't want it? Ya know what? Take it to the register anyway and say these eleven magical words.

"I don't want this, can you put this back for me?"

Those eleven mystical and magical words would reduce hundreds of thousands of man hours of hunting what we like to call reshops from the candy aisle and eventually returning it to the lingerie section.

What does that mean for you you might ask? Lower cost, better savings.

And me, not mentally flipping you the bird. Just a thought.

Hugs and kisses,
~mert

That's like bringing a knife to a gun fight

Why is it that family is like the sharpest knife, cutting the deepest wounds?

Tommorrow I am supposed to go to the MIL's Lia Sophia party.... BUT, last night we saw her at Target walking around with her boyfriends granddaughter, bent over talking all cozy with her. We managed to get in and get out with what we needed without even bumping into her. The kids were crushed to see their Nana- who doesn't make time to see them except a few MINUTES every 2 weeks or so- covorting with another little girl. Emma said, "Momma, it makes me sad seeing Nana with that girl... it's awful." John and I were so upset that our kids felt so hurt.

I wonder though, had I not made such a big deal out of it, what would the girls have said about it? I was just so mad and hurt on their behalf, I wanted to lay in to her right there in Target! Anna was supposed to walk with John to the electronic department but once I saw her walking with Steve's granddaughter I said nope, stay with me. Later I explained that I didn't want her to have to face her grandma with those raw emotions... Anna doesn't deserve to see her with another kid and have to try to swallow the uncomfortable-ness and tension, the hurt and anger.

We have told the MIL that we don't want the girls going out with her and Steve alone without us, or being over at her apartment with the possibility of them being alone with him. I don't know him and I refuse to risk anything, I could never live with myself. The problem is that when they were dating again (before he moved in with the MIL) almost a year ago, Anna spent the night. The MIL never told us that he might be coming over, even though she knows how I am about my girls being around strange men. After Anna came home from the sleep over I found out that the MIL had left Anna alone with her BF while she took a shower, etc. SO, I broached the subject with the MIL by saying that Anna should never be left alone with him, just to see what she would say. She said,"No, of course not."

She basically lied to me by not telling me that it had already happened, so right then and there I decided to put a stop to sleep overs since she has proven time and time again that she makes bad choices, especially when it comes to my kids. I also explained that the kids would not be over at her apartment- especially after he moved in- unless we were there.

More recently, about 2 1/2 months ago, she asked if she could take the girls shopping and reluctantly we said yes. She shows up to pick them up with her BF. I was at work so I had no idea, but John let them go, which I was kind of pissed about. She ambushed us with this, purposely because if she shows up with him, what are we supposed to say right?

She does this kind of thing all the time. I or John will lay down the law and later she claims she doesn't remember having that conversation. It makes me so mad! It reminds me of my mother... "I'm certified nuts so I can act like an idiot and not even try because I can get away with doing these things (and stop taking my medication) and not have to be accountable." ONLY her (the MIL) thing is, "You never said that, we never talked about this-OR- I don't remember you saying that." GRRR.

Anyway, Anna was supposed to go with me to the party, but now neither of us want to go and it's tomorrow. John said he's going to talk to her about it and let her know how hurt the girls were, but in the mean time I have to figure out what to say our reason is for not coming without lying about it, so as to not make a bad example for my kids.

I just can't tell you how hard it is to hear your 3 1/2 yr old say how "awful" it feels to be crushed by your own grandma. And how hard it is to hear your 7 yr old talk about how hurt and angry she is. I just want to "blow her away" verbally and be done with her sometimes. I want to knock that "knife" out of her hands forever, but John doesn't think that that is the right answer. I know it has mostly to do with the kids not having any grandparents, and Emma missing out (but isn't she already missing out?), and how uncomfortable things will be at family gatherings (like the last time we didn't talk to the MIL for 4-5 months after she threw a bucket of water in Anna's face)... I just don't know how to fix this.

How do you fix something with a person who believes she is always right , and never does anything wrong? This is exactly the dilemma I had with the egg donor, and exactly why I estranged myself from her. The MIL is so like my mother (the egg donor) sometimes, and it makes me angry that after divorcing myself from the E.D. that I still have to put up with pretty much the same.... STUFF.

Now I have to deal with not making a bad example for my kids by lying to get out of an uncomfortable situation.

And I am struggling with forgiveness as a Christian... But that's another load of dirty laundry.

Oh no you di'int!

Saturday night I was putting Anna to bed while John and Emma were at one of his coworkers/buddies house. Anna and I had to stay home because she is sick and coughing. :(

Anyway, I asked her what she was going to do all day Sunday (because I had to work 7-3:30 pm).

"Hmmm," she smiled,"fight with Emma?" She then laughed a very evil, maniacal laugh.

"Ha. Ha. Ha," I monotoned. She comes by the maniac part honestly, John and I both have a few nuts in our family trees. Let's hope that the evil part doesn't pop up again ;) (because she comes by that honestly too, I hate to admit).

Work.... how should I say it? What one word could I possibly use to sum it all up?

How about "SUCKTASTIC"?

I have been trying to avoid sharing the boring details of my anxiety and frustration. Not many people really, truly love their jobs so I know I am not alone... therefore what I have to say in the matter is completely mundane and not at all unique.

The first few days after orientation, one person decided to make it her missions to make sure I knew that younger her was the boss of older me by asking me in a slightly snotty tone after a very busy 1st hour of pushing around the same cart of things to restock because of the very needy consumers customers that kept asking me to help them... "if I was heading in the right direction".

Snark much? I'm not 12, for the love of biscuits... I'm a 38 yr old with a freaking work ethic. Shoot, I have more hours put in on the work force toilet than she has in her whole career. I was a bit put off, and I responded as politely as possible what I had been up to, then let my hair down with "So, yes, I THINK I'm headed in the right direction." Mentally, I added a "Batch!" to end of the conversation.

Some people whom I have confided in have told me that maybe it's just 'cause I'm the new meat on the block. To which I responded, "Well, I suppose that could be true... only I didn't hear her harassing the 18 yr old high school student every 45 minutes."

Yesterday, I worked my first early shift which is a completely different species from working the pm shift. The pm shift consists of restocking, prettying up the aisles full of product (straightening, smoothing, refolding... etc), and restocking all of the returns and items thrown into different spots of the store, basically where ever the customer see fit to drop it, ie: cosmetics in the chip aisle, clothing in the DVD section.

The am shift consists of putting up new sales signs, printing new signs, marking price labels for products that are out of stock or need to be pulled from the stock room. Also miscellaneous and tedious tasks such as dusting the jewelry cases.

Now here is my problem. I have a certain way of doing things, which is fine... I am open to suggestions. I have been told that certain things obviously need to be done a certain way, such as the more technical aspects like taking down sales signs with the use of a hand held type computer. Cool, fine, super even.

I have also been told that concerning said technical tasks, I will develop my own style of how those things, as in in which order I do the steps. I have also been told that I will develop my own style and preferences as far as doing tasks for my shift, as in which end I start my clean up and I how I am able to prioritize the things I am allowed to prioritize.

So, yesterday I am working in the massive womens/juniors department, plus jewelry, cosmetics, purses and hosiery (all of those departments are your work area when they tell you you are "Jewelry" for the day). All morning long, the team leader had me doing tasks primarily outside of my "zone", the work areas I was given. Then midday, I was given 4 tasks. These tasks were specifically for the jewelry person. I didn't ask to clean the jewelry counters, mirrors, and jewelry/watch display cases that sit atop the counters, plus the 3 other tasks. In the grand scheme of things, to anyone who didn't actually know I had been assigned to do these specific things before the end of my shift... and given the fact that Jewelry was only about a 10th of my total zone for the day, it may have looked to others like I was utterly and completely slacking.

During either shift the team lead will notify the various departments that they have "pulls", which is product that the stock room pulls out that needs to be stocked. In the middle of cleaning the jewelry department, I heard team lead say that there was pulls for basically clothing, meaning it could have been womens, mens, children and toddler/infant. Being that I wasn't horribly busy, and feeling confident that i could do the pulls after I finished cleaning in about 15 minutes, I volunteered to get the cart of pulls- which BTW only consisted of about 8 items at the most.

Here is where my own personl logic and work ethic comes in, my peeps: I decided that since I was actually given tasks that I had to do before I left for the day, that I would finish those tasks (which I had already done 3 out of 4 at this point), THEN restock the pulls. There was no word of any customer needing any of those items, so I figured that this was a good plan.

To recap, finish the tasks that were actually assigned to me first, then do pulls- which happen several times in one shift, and are pretty common... and there WOULD be more pulls later for sure, so what was the rush? It would get done, I would have it done as soon as my tasks were done.

See my logic? Let me just say that I pride myself in my work ethic. I don't slack, and I do my tasks until they are completed. I used to be a nurse, and was faced with life and death situations every day.

Anyway, one of the ladies that was helping me out during the day and showing me the ropes, asked me what the cart was. I said pulls. She glared at me, "You know, by the time it took you to walk all the way up here, you could have had them done."

I politely responded," Yes, I just thought that I would do the tasks that I was assigned, and then do the pulls."

"YOU COULD have had them done by the time you got up here. You'll learn," she says with a smirk and fake smile, while speeding off with the cart.

"What I have learned is that these people tell you to develop your own way of doing things, but what they really mean is do it my 'old and crusty assed' way of doing it, whether you like it or not, and eventually it WILL be your way," I thought to myself. GRRRR!

I still feel as if I was right, and I still feel as if her tone and snarkiness was not needed. I guess I'm still the new meat, so it's OK to hang me up on a hook and use me as a punching bag if your having a bad day. Sons a biscuits.

I was due my 2nd 15 minute break, and heard the team lead tell her she needed to go on her break. I knew I was due my break so i told the team lead that I was going too. While on my break, Miss "You'll learn" asked why I was taking my break and asked me who was on the floor in clothing. Basically she accused me of abandoning my post. i shrugged, trying not to show anger and seem insulted. I pulled out my work sheet,"It says right here 2nd break 2 pm."

"Ohhh," she said, realizing it was her and the team lead's mistake,"My break isn't until 2:15." Now the team lead is paging me on the walkie, not sounding very happy. I was annoyed and was about to respond, but Miss had realized the mistake and called her on it. Thank goodness I didn't need to respond, I was REALLY annoyed at how I was being treated.

15 minutes flew by and I soon back on the floor.

After I finished my mandatory tasks, I employed another bit of personal logic, which was this: "rezone" your light weight areas (cleaning, straightening etc), such as purses and cosmetics, which should take you 15 minutes tops, THEN do the disaster area that would be womens/juniors. At this point it was 2;20 pm, and I was stressing that I had barely touched my zones all day but resolved to make sure to do as much as humanly possible before the next shift came on. I am never one to leave work for other people if it can absolutely be helped, but I also feel that I need to at least to a cursory clean up in each section so that I know no one zone is a complete disaster, and so I can honestly say I walked though each and every zone.

So, less messy/barely touched zones (quickly) first, finish the shift working my booty off cleaning womens/juniors.

Miss "You'll learn" walked by while I was speed zoning cosmetics and snapped,"You MIGHT want to start walking your zones."

"Yes, I'm doing that right now," I said calmly, trying not to grit my teeth.

"YOUR TABLES ARE A MESS," she said as she stomped by, meaning that the clothing racks that hold shelves of folded clothing.

I was so angry at this point for being treated like I was a child, and said,"Can I do anything right today?"- not caring if she heard me or not at this point, luckily for me and my hot head, she was already pretty much out of ear shot, that's how hard and fast she was stomping.

Fine, I thought to myself, cheeks ablaze... I'll do Women's and Juniors and screw the rest. At 3:30 I'm outta here. I walked over and started refolding a table of completely screwed up juniors shirts and tanks. I secretly hated myself for letting her get to me, and for feeling like I was justified in not doing my job to the best of my ability, in my own organized way.

Luckily, there was a girl that came on shift at about 2, and neither of us knew it but our shifts were overlapping in Jewelry/etc. She asked me with a puzzled look if I was working there, I said yes... and that i was just chewed out because "my tables were a mess". She gave me a sympathetic look and said she would start at the other end and not to worry about it (as in, relax, it's going to be OK). Thanks Shelby!

I was telling John after we left The T property that i don't have a problem with people telling me I'm doing something wrong... and I actually appreciate it when someone tells me this without resorting to tattling on me to the supervisors/managers about it. I don't mean that i am afraid of all that, and/or being confronted by the higher ups... i'm an adult, and I have seen tougher stuff than a little talking to, whether it be professionally or personally.

What i would love and expect from anyone, including myself is a little professionalism, and to not be given verbal lashings because I lowest on the totem pole, therefore in effect deserving less respect in their eyes.

I would and do expect that confrontations be done in a respectful manner. How about this: Hey Mary, I was walking by and noticed that your tables are a mess. If Corporate came through right now, they'd be having a fit over it. you might want to go do that first and not worry about the other stuff right now."

See how that works? I could understand possibly being treated like that if say... i had been working there for 6 months, and if my work was consistently a mess. This was my 9th shift, only my 5th shift off of orientation, and my first day shift. Cut me some freaking slack, anyone?

So, there you have it. I hate my new job. The only thing i have going for me is the fact that almost all of the younger people I work with are more than willing to answer any questions, and even volunteer help when they see that "Oh crap"/puzzled/constipated look I probably have on my face.

Yeah, I think SUCKTASTIC sums it up pretty nicely.

Poor Iggy

I know there are more pressing issues going on in the world today but when I saw this story on Yahoo's home page I was deeply saddened. It's not often that you see Ellen Degeneres tear up, let alone cry, but when she does you know she means it.

Basically the story is that despite giving this sweet puppy lots of love and even paying to have this pup trained and acclimated to her current pets- to the tune of 3000.00- Ellen found that Iggy was just too energetic for her household. While discussing this with her hairdresser, whom she sees every single day and knows very well, the hairdresser spoke up immediately saying she would take the dog because her family loved him.

Shortly after the shelter that Ellen adopted Iggy from called and asked how he was doing. Ellen did what the honorable thing and told the truth. The shelter in question sent someone out to take the dog back immediately. To see the clip from her live show, you can watch it here.

Since I went through a similar situation about a year ago, I KNOW how heart wrenching it is to have to give away a pet who just doesn't fit in with the family, no matter how hard you try. Though I realize that she signed a paper stating that she would give the dog back if any problems should arise, I would think that this shelter would see all the good that Ellen does on her show and know that she would absolutely make sure that Iggy went to a family that was capable of loving and taking care of him.

The fact is that Ellen gave her dog to someone whom she trusts. It may sound silly to some, but a lot of us gals have very close relationships with the people we trust our do's to. I wold think that this shelter could understand that since Ellen sees her hairdresser every single day that she knows her very well, and trusts her enough to take a pet that Ellen loved but could no longer keep.

I just think that in a world where you hear about celebrities and all of their problems and horribly obvious shortcomings, that someone like Ellen Degeneres- who has raised millions for so many charities over the years, and help thousands of people- could be cut a little slack.

But no. Instead poor Iggy is back where he started probably in an overcrowded and stinking shelter, in a cage, and not getting near the love and attention he deserves. Not one but two families are distraught over a new family member being taken away. I think had they REALLY cared about how Iggy was doing? they would have shown up in person to see for themselves instead of just calling Ellen on the phone. They took Iggy back over a mere technicality, not because they really care about him.

If you think this is outrageous, go to the link below and leave a comment for Ellen and feel free to use the graphic above. If you hear of any petitions going on, I would love to hear about it so I can sign, too. The photo in the graphic I made is courtesy of The Ellen Degeneres Show website.

Pleas note that I have commented further on this topic... well, in comments! Thanks for all of your opinions, I am glad we are able to debate without flaming and trolling. :)

Sooooo... this is interesting.***Very loooong****

Yesterday, my brother called me to inform me that the other "hatchling" (from the egg donor) had found him on myspace. If you read this post you might remember me mentioning that I have a half sister that my mother gave up for adoption before I was born. She is only 13-14 months older than me (which is less than I had originally thought, I had thought 15-19 months), so she was 3 or 4 months old when my mother got pregnant again.

According to the egg donor (my mother- we call her that sometimes because calling her mother and mom makes my brother and I uncomfortable, and well, she doesn't deserve the title), when she met my real father (whom we shall refer to as the "jerk", sorry, having a bad day today since all of this is intertwined) she was already pregnant with my sister. My mother had already had my older brother by this time because she had gotten preggers in high school, and he was probably about 2 1/2 to 3 years old. So the jerk supposedly wanted to marry her but said that it was either him or the baby.

My younger brother Ben had talked to the jerk about 10- 12 years ago and according to the jerk- he had told my mother that he couldn't afford to take care of 2 kids, and the baby would probably be better off.

On a side note- Either way, I was told by the egg donor that I was hated before I was born because the jerk accused my mother of cheating on him and that I wasn't his baby. He beat her while she was pregnant, and I guess in her twisted brain she believe that it was somehow the fault of her unborn child- me. I was also told that because of all of this, and the fact that i was unwanted, that my mother *poor her* struggled to love me my whole life.

In a way this makes sense in that my father really didn't want more kids, and here she was pregnant again.Whose fault exactly that I am here on this earth... well we'll never know because I don't plan on speaking to either of my genetic donors ever again.

Anyway, fast forward to the day that Princess Diana died. I remember that day well and it is burned in my memory. Just minutes before I had learned of her tragic death while checking the vitals on my ICU patient and the TV blaring in the back ground. I get a phone call at the desk, which is very unusual because I don't normally work in the ICU, I just float there at times. It's my mother, and she tells me to sit down, She then tells me that my sister Stephanie (the name my mother had given her at birth, but later her name was changed by her adoptive parents to Marci) has found my mother. I'm afraid I don't really remember the details of how she found my mother- I think I was stunned.

Unbelievably, she only lives about 40 minutes from me, in the Sacramento area. I'm so happy at the news, I can't even express it... all my life I had wanted a sister, and at the age of about 10 my mother had told us what had happened. I finally had my sister! I was finally going to meet the sister that I imagined at times, and when I would see a woman who looked like me while we lived in California, my heart would pound at the thought that that could be her.

The next day I think I talked to Marci, and we planned to meet, she was going to drive out to meet me and John. Though the meeting went well, and I got to meet my two nieces, I could tell that underneath it all there was a sadness to Marci- who , by the way, looks a lot like my mother. I understood, how could I not? My mother hadn't wasted any time getting pregnant again.

A day or two later John and I had surprised my mother by taking our new car down payment money we had saved for several months and we bought her plane tickets to come out and meet her daughter that she hadn't seen since birth. My mother flew out after we had made plans with Marci to come to her house and spend the night.

The visit was very strained, my mother had bouts of tears and depression, and would "check out" right in front of everyone. To try to explain the situation and why my mother gave her up, codependent me tried to explain to Marci that she was better off without having lived with the jerk. He had molested his own daughter, what would he have done to her? I tried to explain that she had been better off, but was unable to explain the other ways she had been spared. My mother was there, I couldn't exactly explain all of the abuse my brothers and I had suffered over the years at her hand- physically and mentally.

I realize now that it wasn't my place to have said those things to her. It wasn't my place to try to explain away the pain Marci had experienced over the years knowing she was given away. It wasn't my place to be my mother's mouth piece and to try to save things... in my need to be loved and accepted and liked- by both of them... I was trying so hard to mediate between Marci and my mother. In the end I probably just sounded like I was justifying my mother's decision, and I probably even sounded a little condescending, which wasn't my goal.

The next day at Marci's was even more uncomfortable, as the fact that our mother had admitted to me that she felt no connection with Marci at all- that being the reason she had cried when they had embraced for the first time, she was not having the overwhelming feeling of love that she had hoped for. Which is hilarious in itself if you know my history, and my brothers. Overwhelming feelings of love? Who was she kidding? She simply is not capable.

Anyway, my sister was I'm sure confused - who wouldn't be?- and my mother continued to scowl or stare off into space, or pretend like we were all the best of friends... she was the epitome of bipolar.

After my mother left and went home, she had plenty of opportunity to talk to Marci on the phone. I was accused of being a liar and saying horrible things to my sister. My mother accused me of being a liar when I denied all of the horrible things I was supposed to have said to my sister. I told my mother that she needed to get a grip. She had known me for 27 years... had she ever known me to stir up drama and lie like that?

At this point the fact that my mother could have been making it all up in her crazy little brain did not occur to me. my brothers and I had been told all of our lives that above all she hated lying. She always told the truth because of this... so if we told her she was wrong about something she would go into a rage and beat us. This is how we learned that for as long as we lived with her (and it turns out many years after, until I learned to stand up for myself) that we were not to have an opinion of our own. if we wanted to survive we believed what she believed and kept our mouths shut.

Because of my mother's and my sister's (alleged) accusations, I cut off communication with both of them. When I reconciled with my mother, she was suddenly on my side and was telling me more horrible things my sister had said about me- including that I was immature to let my real father's (the jerk) sexual abuse still affect me... I was so angry I wrote Marci a letter telling her to leave me alone. I wrote that she was lucky to have escaped the abuse from both of my parents, including the man who would have been her step father, the bastard. I told her that if she wanted a real relationship with me I would consider it... because I had always wanted her. All of my life I had longed for a sister, and when I found out about her... I WANTED HER. I had always hoped that one day we would somehow find each other.

Now all of this is coming back to me. My sister found my younger brother on myspace. Ben called me and asked me what i thought, yesterday. I said that if he gets a good feeling about it, to go for it. We both agreed that there was a large chance that our mother had lied and given us misinformation about Marci, and it was possible that our mother had been trying to sabotage us. I said that I thought about her often, and wondered if we could have a relationship... and that there were times I wanted to find her and try again. Ben said he would put the feelers out there and see if she was interested in hearing from me too.

Ben and I are all that we have left of our immediate family since our older brother only wants to have a relationship with us when it's convenient for him, then we don't hear from him for another year. Neither of us speak to the bastard or the egg donor. We have our Aunt Yvonne outside of our immediate family,thank GOD- who is my mother's sister.

I would love to have her in my life, I would love to start over and have the sister that i always wanted. Sure, I expect it will be touch and go at first... I understand her feelings from the past towards me. (which I don't even know if it is real... it could be just more lies from the egg donor) I would want to start over with a clean slate...

I guess we will see, huh?