Being Myself

One thing I tried during this weekend with the in-laws was being myself.

I wasn't going to try to be a tame Canadian with perfect manners, speaking in cue, and being extremely polite. I was going to speak as loud as I wanted, be as emotional as I felt like it, as imprudent as I can be at this stage in life, and I wasn't going to feel guilty about it.

I did it.

I decided in advance that being myself was going to freak some people out, and that was going to show how narrow minded they were, not how improper I was.

I did it. And it worked at several levels.

When I feel free to be me, I am at ease, as in not torturing myself with unreasonable demands. I am, therefore, happier, in a better mood, and find it easier to take people I dislike.

For instance, my husband has a cousin who is self-centered with a strong character. She reminds me of the high school beauties/bullies. The sort of gal who expects everyone to adore her and take all the crap she delivers.

So, I was polite with her, but other than that I didn't give her the time of day. Didn't try to start a conversation or befriend her in any way beyond minimum civility. The result is that I am not resentful and dwelling in anger as I was the last time we met. The idea was to send her the message that she had no power to upset me or make me spin my wheels on her account. She probably didn't even notice, but regardless, I feel good about myself, and that's extremely important.

There were also some European relatives who were very hard to talk to. I tried to be cheerful and friendly, but all I got from them was bewildered looks, as in, "You are nuts and we don't care to hear anything you're saying."

I ignored them, too. They came to my house and I greeted them politely, offered them food and beverages, but beyond that, I didn't feel it necessary to hurt myself in the process of entertaining people who don't want to be entertained. They're gone, I don't hate them, and I couldn't care less if I ever see them again.

With the mother-in-law I was friendly but firm. "What are you doing with the bread?" She asked.

"I am spreading it with garlic butter," I answered.
"But when are you going to do it?"
"In a minute."

She walked away from the kitchen. Maybe I was rude, maybe I wasn't. But it was ME for sure, and if she doesn't like me, she can stay the fuck away.

I truly think that the best thing about being middle-aged and pre-menopausal is that, at this point, life has taught me that people are either going to like me or not, regardless of what I do, and that's their problem.

Mother-in-law: Miracles do happen—no praying involved

My late-thirties brother-in-law married a 32-year-old this weekend. Both of them are the youngest in their respective families but were raised differently. He was raised to obey. She was raised to command, with an iron rod, passively aggressively so.

I never did like this girl—I may someday—but so far so bad.

Always smiling and softly speaking, she knows how to say “no,” firmly, good for her. But in our interactions, I’ve felt a heavy energy emanating off her, as if she were saying, “Get off my lawn or I’ll kill you.”

When I tried to talk to her about wedding stuff, I got a half-smile from her, as if to say, “Who are you to say anything to me about my wedding.”

Things got slightly worse when she didn’t invite me to her wedding shower. It was held at the church and it was her responsibility to invite outsiders. I was the only female relative in town from the groom’s side and I didn’t get an invite.

We all have known for a while that she was heavily involved in wedding planning, changing the colour several times, driving even the groom mad. She sent specific instructions to my husband on how to dress for ushering (she thought it necessary to tell him he should wear a suit) and declared early on that she had to approve of my mother-in-law’s outfit. We all knew she wanted to have a great wedding. Messing up with the groom’s family, apparently, would help her have a great wedding.

Things started out pretty bad on Thursday at the rehearsal dinner. Her majesty the queen sat down to be served. I picked up the food at an Italian restaurant, rushed to the church to have it in on time, and helped the volunteers serve it. She never raised a finger, and neither she nor her husband-to-be bothered to say even a little speech to thank anyone. Everyone ate and left. We weren’t even introduced to her family ever—not even at family pictures during the wedding.

Heading to the parking lot to go home, my father-in-law and I saw they’d started to decorate for the Saturday wedding, and I said, “Interesting, we didn’t do any of that for mine.” He smiled widely and said, “Ah, it was much simpler.”

I laughed, and he started to recall how much he enjoyed our wedding. Score: Lorena one, new sister-in-law zero.

On Friday, the family got together at a restaurant, 18 of us. Slowly the truth came out. The immediate family was pissed. Husband’s sister started to detail how the queen had been micromanaging and driving everyone crazy. “She wants to have the perfect wedding,” she said.

“She can’t have the perfect wedding” said I. “I already had it.”

“Yes,” replied the women, emphatically “It was perfect and so much simpler.”

Our rehearsal dinner was catered, and we gave little presents to everybody who helped, from the pastor to the sound guy to the groom’s and bride’s people. Everybody was clapped at and sincerely thanked for their awesome contribution.

For the wedding, I hired a company to decorated the church and the reception hall, and to to take the stuff away when it was all over. For everything else, I assigned activities to a number of friends and never told them how to do anything. Even the piano player chose her own pieces, and the singers had rehearsals without my knowing. The ceremony was so beautiful that I made myself cry and when I did, many others wept too.

For the reception, I asked a couple of friends to do skits and never even asked what they were doing. An obsessive-compulsive friend of mine was given a list of tasks and names, and she made sure everybody did their job. Everyone did. I never did pester them. Never. And in the end, we had the best wedding I’ve ever seen. Our friends made it happen, particularly the MC, who is so smart and funny that went on to become a lawyer.

As for the current wedding, during Friday-night’s dinner we found out there was a schedule and that the happy couple would have five, yes 5, different photo sessions all over the city: a hotel, a famous park, outside the church, a relative’s house, and another park. The schedule even told the family what time to start driving to the last park, where we were required to be for immediate-family pictures. I told them I was giving up my immediate-family rights.

We were all bewildered at her micromanaging skills, and incredibly enough, now having a “common enemy” my mother-in-law, her daughter, and I for the first time ever felt we were on the same side of things. I told my husband that the queen was making me look like a saint and a genius. He heartily laughed.

Far from perfect, the wedding was underwhelming. At the reception, the MC did nothing and the guests left before final speeches. There was no entertainment and we mostly just talked amongst ourselves. I enjoyed it. But it wasn’t the perfect wedding she so carefully planned for months.

On Sunday, the whole family got together at our place, and it became obvious that the relationship between MIL and I had been permanently altered by all the mayhem. It is almost as if now I understand how she felt when I took her precious boy years ago, and now she can see that I ain’t so bad after all.

Coming Up: A Review of Easy Virtue, the movie

I started writing that post last week and never went past the first paragraph. We've been working so hard in the backyard: fixing a retaining wall, repairing two fences (one per neighbour), and making a patio (after ripping off the deck).

It took sooo long. We've been at it since May. Good thing we had a vacation in between, otherwise we would be dead.

This week I have to clean the house spotless. Brother-in-law getting married on Saturday. On Thursday we have rehearsal dinner. On Friday we are going out for dinner with all the out-of-towners. On Saturday, the wedding--all day affair. On Sunday, I am having everybody over for a BBQ lunch--25 people give or take a couple.

It sounds busy, I know, but it actually is more that that. It's excruciating, considering that I have to hang out with my mother-in-law and that I'm feeling sick these days.

This past Saturday, I had what I think was my first ever gallbladder pain attack. I almost went to the ER. The pain is beyond belief. I felt as if something was being ripped from below my rib cage. But I didn't go to the hospital. Honestly, I have no time to be sick right now.

Instead I drank fennel & cumin tea (those Indian spices come handy sometimes), and it helped so much. On Sunday I drank dandelion-root tea all day and had only liquids. The pain came back at times on Sunday.

Today, Monday, I drank fresh vegetable juice, had a few grapes, and had my award-winning vegetable soup (with lots of fennel). My diet is so skimpy that I'm not sure if I am hungry or just have heartburn.

Other than heartburn, I am bloated, as if something is swollen inside, feel week and a bit dizzy, want to throw up, keep burping, and have menstrual-period-like pain. It isn't good, I know.

At least I've managed to keep pain at bay by not eating anything fried. That's what Volly said to do on my other blog.

Interestingly enough, keeping busy helps me forget about the pain. I wouldn't want to lie in bed all day, then I would really feel sick.

Anyway, I'll see the doctor on Wednesday. Already made the appointment. Told Husband that if doctor wants me to go to the hospital, I will go and the wedding can do without me.

Please don't tell me you'll pray for me. Try something more creative, OK?

Oh my gosh, talk about bitching! I don't mean to scare you but mid-aging sucks.

My reaction to Michael Jackson's death

For the first few days, I thought the fans and the media were going overboard. That it was crazy what they were doing. Well, it was, but that isn't the point I want to make.

My point:  why is it that I felt nothing?

Truth be told, the man clearly had no impact in my life: not positive nor negative. I like a couple of his songs: The dancing machine & Ben, but that's it. Spanish singers never heard-of in North America make me weep for a second when they die, but not Michael Jackson.

It took me three or four days to understand that the fans were hurting because they loved him, because his music did something for them, because good or evil, the man had an impact in their lives. And that the media was just giving the public what they wanted.

Two aspects of my ailing mental health came into play: (1) my attachment disorder, and (2) my inability to tolerate fault in myself or others. The two are quite possibly interrelated.

I am attachment disordered. Because I never did experience a loving relationship with my mother or my siblings, I rarely become attached to anyone to the point of crying when they leave or die. If you piss me off, I'll just forget about you and move on. And while that is good for handling abusive situations, it is really bad in the sense that I might as well be a robot, going through life doing staff factually and keeping my feelings at bay.

The worst part of being that way is that I suspect I do hurt when I leave people or they leave me. It is just that the pain is so buried inside that I can't feel it. I experience it, perhaps, as self-hatred or as a generalized feeling of "I don't like anyone -- no one likes me -- why the hell do I have to live in such a hostile world -- might as well just put myself out of my misery."

So, in a way, I wish I were like Michael Jackson's fans. At least they can experience and express their feelings. They aren't like me, this Terminator-like person who can end any relationship and keep going as if nothing happened.

The other problem is the inability to accept human shortcomings.

It goes like this: I meet a person and like them for a while, but the moment they do something I strongly disagree with, disapprove of, or just dislike, I drop them and move on.

Michael Jackson did many things that can make me drop a person from my fav list: heavy emphasis on physical appearance, a weird way of speaking, rejection of his own race by trying to become white, outrageous attire, child molestation rumors, buying kids so he could have children, living beyond his means, using drugs, etc, etc.

He just wasn't my kind of pal, was he?

But, does it follow that I would have to close my ears and stop appreciating his good music or my eyes and stop enjoying his dancing? Does it follow?

Why can't I appreciate a person with short comings and all? Wouldn't it be nice if I could look at what's positive in a person and see their faults as water under the bridge?

Of course I know where such bad habit comes from: you guessed it, my mother. 

We could clean the house spotless and instead of saying, "Great job, girls. I'm so thankful you took time to clean the house." She would say, "You forgot to sweep under the sofa," and walk away dismissively. 

As you can imagine, siblings and I followed suit. If a brother or sister came to me bragging of a romantic conquest or a good job at whatever, I would say something like, "Does she know that your grades aren't very good?"

If I came home happy I got an A at school, someone had to say, "Too bad you're so ugly."

If just seemed like, in my household, anything short of absolutely perfect was abominable. Of course nowadays, I not only reject other people, I mainly reject myself.

For instance, the only thing I dislike about traveling is that when Husband and I go shopping,  I see us on store windows. He looks really good, if you ask me. But I see an out-of-shape, short woman with fat arms on the glass and wonder why the heck he stays with me.  It just seems that, in my mind, men only love skinny, curvy, tall, pretty women. A little voice tells me that Husband settled for me. "He was too shy to ask anyone else out and you were easy for him."

 

As a Christian, many a time I prayed God would help me accept fault in others and in myself. But my prayer was never answered. Also, I've been in therapy for countless years, yet I still seem to keep my no-fault policy to relationships, and I hate it.

I wish there were a potion I could take at night that would make me wake up accepting of others' and of my own mistakes and shortcomings.

As it turns out, Michael Jackson finally did have an impact on me, with his death. Perhaps one way or another, his notoriety which led to the profound pain he had to appease with prescription drugs did help many people.  He did, apparently, give those of his race new heights to aspire to and an ambassador in a mostly white performance world. 

Maybe he will help me see that being less than perfect is a fact of life and that having faults is 100% better than seeking perfection. Cross your fingers. 

Annoying in Good Faith

I was thinking of my sister's annoying behaviour just now. All of a sudden, I realized that most annoying people do so while we are trying to be liked. Individuals who go about life not requiring approval and admiration are often fine to hang out with.

I think of all the annoying behaviours I'm trying to recover from: talking too much, constantly trying to bring the conversation to ME, being overly helpful (making people feel sorry they asked), providing unsolicited advice, telling everybody my latest breakthroughs (in cooking, self-discoveries, etc.), working hard to make a situation perfect (like a party), speaking evil of others (thinking others agreed).

All those things I did in the past in an effort to be liked, to feel that I belonged, to hear others pat me on the back and tell me that I am alright.

However, the effect on others was the opposite: I annoyed them. Most made an effort not to roll their eyes, but they did walk away leaving me there talking.

I have to wonder how much of what my sister does is an effort to be admired and loved. Yet she annoys me so much that I have no choice but to withdraw from her. I know that I should probably just tell her how I feel, and I've been doing so in recent months. But she just had a baby and she is "on hormones." This isn't a good time to be letting her know how much she annoys me.

So, I will stay safe--away from her. She is a bundle of anger. It is as if anything I say or do could make her burst out in uncontrollable rage. Perhaps she needs to be alone with her baby and figure everything out.

A murder of a sister by a sister

I just watched on TLC the murder of a sister by a sister. For some reason, I feel that I need to write about this.

My sister, the new mom, behaves like a total bitch toward me. She is just plain rude, defensive, offensive, and always trying to outsmart me and out-know me on all arenas of life. Her life mission statement should be, “I want to prove Unrepentant that I am better than her.”

I, on the other hand, have no problem admitting that she is a person with many virtues. If she knows something, good for her is what I say.

I know why she behaves that way. She is just sorely insecure. Her self-esteem is microscopical. However, her behaviour toward me is unforgivable and I am not going to take it. I officially give her the finger right here right now. We are going back to business as usual. If she needs me, she’ll call. I don’t want her around me. If, like she claims, she has lots of friends, knows everything, and everyone likes her, then she will never need me and that will be perfectly fine by me.

The murder I watched on Extreme Forensics portrays a situation similar to ours. One of the sisters was a good person, taking care of her ailing mom until the day she died—inheriting all of her mother’s assets, even though there were ten other children in the picture. Though it wasn’t mentioned on the show, it is perfectly possible that the “bad” sister had been mistreated by the mother and the “good” had been preferred. Or like in my case, for some reason the “bad” sister just envied the other for one reason or another.

In the end, the story goes, the “bad” sister ended up living off the good one, receiving money and a rent-free home to live. When the good one got tired of being swindled and refused to continue providing for her slacker sister, she was murdered, placed in a freezer, and a fire was started to try to destroy evidence.

My youngest sister claims to have had a terrible life but, who didn’t in my family? However, being the youngest she has a kind of psychopathic sense of entitlement, as if the world owed her something. She is narcissistic in that she doesn’t have to deserve something for her to desire it and demand it.

Therefore, she envies me for having gone to university, gotten good grades, and having succeeded in my career and, in general, for being who I am.

She makes me pay harshly for being who I am, and that I won’t take. The woman on the show got literally murdered. My sister kills me slowly with her words, the expressions of her face, her attitude, and actions, like being best friends with all my enemies, such as my mother-in-law.

Fuck her, is what I say.

Health Issues

I often wonder if I am just a sick bitch or if I am a hypochondriac. But, honest, every time I ask myself the question, I do a body inventory and more than one spot hurts.

Recently, watching the musical Menopause, a comedy, I started to laugh wildly when one of the actors said, "I never wake up at night. Never. How can I? if I'm not asleep" (or something like that).

After a few seconds, my laughter turned to tears, when I realized that it had been years since I slept through the night. Night sweats, frequent urination, backaches, headaches, or even anxiety keep me awake at night. To get about six hours of sleep, I need to be in bed for about 10 hours. Good thing my husband can sleep through earthquakes, otherwise he would've divorced me already.

But my most serious problem is the constant back/neck ache. My neck hurts all the time, and about once a week, it turns into a nasty headache. Why my muscles go tense, I don't know. The doctor said it was my computer posture, and the physiotherapist said I needed to exercise. She figures that because I'm overweight, I never exercise. When I explained that exercise gives me a backache, she patronizingly smiled.

My lower back hurts all the time, too. I have a congenital injury there, which I believe is aggravated by two orange-size fibroids I have in my uterus. Basically, my tail bone always hurts to the touch. When really bad, I limp.

I also have a chronic sinus infection. So, basically, my nose is always swollen, and it occasionally hurts. Nasty discharge is part of the deal, so I have to clean the area as part of my routine, as I do my teeth.

My teeth, by the way, are also an issue. They're quite separated and follow a crooked line, so food gets stuck all the time and causes me pain. I have to floss constantly or else ... In addition I have a molar that's breaking but the dentist has decided to leave it for now. The net result is that I cannot bite with my right side. Must chew all my food with the left side.

I also have yeast problems which can cause me rashes and itches everywhere, if I eat too much flour and sugar. There is a problem with my bowels, too. Constant diarreah which I've narrowed down to liver problems, because it becomes worse when I eat fatty foods. I also suffer of constant bladder and kidney issues. Last year, I passed a stone. But more often than not, I ain't screaming of pain, so doctors don't take me seriously. I'm given Bactrin and sent home.

However, when they did my physical last year, my health was perfect according to the physician. The fibroids were my only problem. Yeah, right.

I don't go to the doctor because none of my symptoms individually add up to a serious illness. I always say that if you're not bleeding, feverish, or screaming in pain, doctors send you home to drink apple juice. They never take me seriously, thinking I am a hypochondriac making everything up, but I'm not. I swear.

Some symptoms I can control with diet. But it is so hard to stay on the diet. If I abstain from meat, milk, and flours of any kind, I do mostly OK. At least my sinuses get better and the diarreah recedes. But try living that way.

Well, dairy products I can't have. I'm lactose intolerant. But if I dare, even if I take Lactaid, the sinus situation gets so bad that I become dizzy for days. Right now, I am feeling literally unbalanced. After having lain down for a while, I feel as if I am falling over--all because I indulged in all kinds of foods during our vacation.

So, in theory, I should never eat beef, lamb, pork, dairy products, flour, fried foods, or sugar. Sometimes I think that if have to live that way, then I'd rather die.

I try, however. I make my own desserts from high fibber ingredients and natural sugar replacements, cook without cheese or milk, and eliminate fats from my diet as much as possible.

I thought writing it all down would be therapeutic. Let's see if it works.