I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part 36

At one point I went to a counselor. She was a really nice gal who charged me on a sliding fee scale as I was broke and paying for the sessions out of pocket. Someone gave money for me to mother to pay for three sessions of counseling. She started to hand the money to me outright, then took it back, put it in three envelopes, sealed them, then wrote the name of the counselor on the outside before handing them to me. I remember being shocked and annoyed. Shocked because she’d once told me that I handled money better than she did; annoyed because she was behaving as if I couldn’t be trusted to use the money for the purpose it was intended. Looking back on that, if I’d really been intent on doing something else with the money, all I had to do was rip the envelopes open and dispose of them out of her sight.

I realize now that we’re both lucky I moved out of the house when I did. I honestly think had I continued to live there, I would have gotten fatter and smoked more. In addition to that, I probably would have struck out at her physically at some point. Just like I wanted to as a teenager because she seems to think it’s okay to try and control me, even though I’m an adult. At this point, if I’d snapped and hit her, I wouldn’t have stopped till she was seriously wounded or dead. My anger at her would have been beyond my control because I wasn’t allowed any real control over my own life with mother around all the time. In fact, the only thing she seemed to expect me to control was my temper. And that kind of control only lasts so long before something snaps.

Sometimes it’s hard for me to look back and see how much control she’s had in my life. Even more difficult have been my efforts to break free and be my own person. Even now she would control me if I allowed her to. Every time I get near her, she tries to control me, sometimes in small subtle ways. For instance, she once owed me money. I left a message on her machine asking her to leave it in an envelope in my church mailbox. Instead she chased me down at church and gave it to me in person without an envelope.

When her third husband, Bill died, she called me up and the first thing she said to me was, “I want to come over and talk to Caleb and I don’t want you telling him anything before I get there.”

I tried to ask her what was going on but she wouldn’t tell me before I gave my word that I wouldn’t tell Caleb. I realize now that she took control in that situation by demanding to tell my son herself, without even telling me what had happened. She never asked me how I thought it would be best to tell him. I checked with my brother about how she handled it with his children, and he told me that she’d had him tell them.

Not only that, but when she came to my house that afternoon, she brought a good friend, which I didn’t mind, but she also brought along my brother and his wife, without any kind of warning. It was as if for a time she and my brother and his wife walked into my house and took over.

When I chewed her out later, she tried to excuse herself on the basis of the shock of learning about Bill’s death. I told her that she hadn’t been in such a “state of shock” as to make the same demands with my brother and his wife in regards to their children. Shocked or not, it was just a very subtle way to take my place with my son by telling him and comforting him, instead of me. I told her then that if she ever tried to override my parental authority like that again, I’d cut off all contact with Caleb for at least six months.

A few years later at the start of Caleb’s soccer season, the coach decided to limit practice to one day a week as the boys were getting old enough to have other things going on and they’d worked together enough, that they’d be fine with one day week. He chose Wednesday as that’s right in between the weekends when games were played. He let the parents know that if that was a problem, we should contact him to see what could be worked out. None of the parents objected, but mother did. I learned from the coach that she’d e-mailed him a request to change the night of practice as it was on a church night and games were on Sundays, so Caleb couldn’t go to church at all if practice was held on Wednesday. When I learned what she’d done, I was so angry I wanted to run home and send her an e-mail message right away. Instead, I called David on my cell phone and told him what had happened.

The end result when I did e-mail her was the usual. She apologized for the trouble she caused, but not for what she did. It didn’t matter that I pointed out to her that she was not responsible for taking Caleb to and from practices and games. That she was not responsible for anything to do with soccer. That as his parent, those decisions were up to me, not her. By the end of our correspondence on this issue, I had called her a “Bitch” more than once and told her that she was not allowed to have contact with him for at least six months. The only reason I didn’t make it longer was that I felt like I was punishing him for her misdeeds, even though it wasn’t his fault. I hated that, but I honestly felt like that might be the only way I’d get her to back off and respect my parental authority. This also resulted in her name being taken off the coach’s e-mail list for soccer and not being allowed to attend any of the games for that season.

I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part 35

One night I received a phone call from a friend, Rick M. inviting me to his apartment to play backgammon. I stopped long enough to brush my hair and be on my way. As I went down the driveway to my car, mother poked her head out the door and called to me. I stopped and looked around. She looked at me and said, “Ok.”

When I asked what that was all about, she said that she just wanted to be sure I hadn’t dressed up like I was going on a date. She claimed she was protecting Rick M. I didn’t think anything about it at the time, but it wasn’t her place to tell me how to dress for anything. Not only that, but he’s an adult and I’m sure he would tell her that he was capable of taking care of himself.

I dated a man, Frank, who happened to live on a houseboat. I usually stayed overnight with him. The first time I came home after sleeping on his boat, she asked me where I’d slept. Although I didn’t say it at the time, my first thought was, “What the hell makes it your business where I sleep when I stay with him?”

I told her I slept on his couch, although the truth was that I slept in his bed with him. I still don’t understand why she thought she had any business asking me that question. I wish I’d had the courage to tell her it was none of her business.

In fact, she seems to make it a habit to poke her nose in my life. I remember house sitting for some friends of ours when I was around 20. A male friend stayed with me one night and left early the next morning, which caught a neighbor’s attention. Our friend asked me about it in front of mother. The friend didn’t have a problem with it as long as it was someone I knew. Mother on the other hand asked me if we’d had sex. I realize now that was none of her business. My life as an adult is mine to live as I please. She has no business poking her nose in it.

I learned in more recent years that mother interfered in other relationships I had as well. A friend of mine was in a jewelry story looking at diamond earrings when mother saw him. Apparently he told her he was considering buying me a pair. She told him I didn’t need them.

Another man I dated was seriously considering asking me to marry him. He came to the house one day when I wasn’t there and mother told him I wasn’t ready for that kind of relationship.

Then there was Al. A man I dated in my early 20’s. The church I was attending forced me to break it off with him as he was a very new, immature Christian. I didn’t like it, but I felt that I had no choice in the matter. I learned several years later that he thought mother had forced me to break it off.

She never told me that she cheated on my father with other men and therefore my brother, Mike had a different father. It’s one thing to not tell me as a child; it’s another to not tell me as an adult. Especially after she told me she had left my father because he beat her once. I had to learn the truth of this matter from my father. It wasn’t fair to him or me, to tell me the bad things he did, but leave out the rotten things she did. She didn’t even hint that he had as much reason to leave her as she did him.

Not only that, when I confronted her with it and asked why she hadn’t said something, she told me that she wasn’t sure until then that Mike had a different father. How could she not be sure? Michael looks nothing like Von. I saw the difference the first time I saw a picture of Von but was unwilling to believe it. I know she told me she was no angel, but she never told me he had just as much cause to divorce her, as she had to divorce him. As far as I’m concerned, this is a case of “the pot calling the kettle black.”

As I’ve written this I’ve begun to see motives. She wanted to keep me tied to her so that she could use me as her emotional fuel tank, which is why whenever possible she chased guys away or interfered in my relationship with them. She also wanted what I had, from my clothes to my figure and even the relationships with some of my boyfriends, in particular Andrew. That’s why she borrowed or tried on my clothes without my permission. It also explains her interference in my relationship with Andrew. This also explains why she was so late for my wedding. She wanted the attention I was getting that day. She simply couldn’t let me enjoy what I had, because she wanted it too.

Even now, I see signs that mother would control Caleb and me if allowed to. There was an incident at Caleb’s after school group, which required stern measures and affected his being there the next day. As she was going to be affected by this, I called her to let her know what was going on. As we talked, I also told her how I planned to handle the situation. She told me that she thought I was being a little harsh in the matter. Even after I told her I’d had similar trouble with him in the past and this one just happened to be the most serious. I finally told her that my decision wasn’t open for discussion. She said she’d say one more thing and then shut up. I let her say her thing, then I started to restate my position. She tried to say something else. I told her to “shut up and listen!”

I finished what I had to say, then told her that she wanted to control the situation and I was tired of it. She’d done it to me more than once and I had had enough. Then I hung up on her.

She called and apologized for how she made me feel, but she didn’t apologize for her actions. She has a bad habit of avoiding her responsibility to apologize to me for her actions unless I really make a huge fuss and I’m tired of that too.

Then to make matters worse my mother has had the nerve to tell me about respecting Caleb when he says “no” to something.  Considering that she has not always respected me when I say something, where does she get off telling me to respect my son’s “no’s?” I do a far better job of that with him than she ever did with me!

I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part 34

After Tracy took Jacob home that evening, he came to me and wanted to make it up to me by taking me out the next night. I was so angry and hurt by his refusal to put me first earlier in the evening, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go out with him. I screamed at him to leave me alone.  That I would think about it, as I didn’t know right then if I wanted to go. Mother came in a few minutes later and told me it wasn’t fair to Andrew for me to leave him hanging like that. Then she demanded that I make up my mind and give him a decision. I didn’t care at that point what was fair to him; after all he hadn’t been fair to me by agreeing to care for Jacob without asking me first.

I only agreed to go to dinner with him the next night because I was pushed into a decision and did not want to miss a chance to eat out. I hate to say this, but I didn’t really enjoy anything about our date. I didn’t go out with him that evening because of a true free will desire to be with him.

Andrew and I have since talked things out. He understands that what he did that evening was wrong and hurt me abominably. Yet this incident continued to bother me, but I couldn’t figure out why until someone told me I needed to forgive Andrew for what happened. That’s when I realized it wasn’t his part in this, which still bothered me. It was mother’s. I resented her interference in what should have been strictly between Andrew and me.

Another time Andrew got upset over something someone said to him on the phone. He went outside and I started to follow him out, but mother motioned for me to stay inside. Then she went out and talked to him about what was bothering him. I got so angry; I took it out on him for not refusing to talk to her. I realize now I was angry with her for doing what I should have been doing. She pushed her way into the situation. To this day, pushes herself forward.

One day we went to Nordstrom’s with her mother, Grandma Mary to me, to go shopping for some new clothes. We all stopped to listen to the piano player on duty. I wanted to talk to him as I thought he was kind of cute, but I could barely get a word in. Mother did most of the talking and would not allow Grandmother or me to say much of anything. I was so frustrated. I finally realized that she’d done it again. Pushed herself in front of everyone and hogged the stage.

I was around 19 years old when I got my first job with which I might support myself: I worked afternoons. I remember being afraid to leave for work early just because I wanted to. I was afraid she would tell me I shouldn’t leave early unless I had a reason.

When I married my now ex-husband, mother had about six months’ notice for our planned date. She decided to make her own outfit. Two weeks before our wedding, she hadn’t even cut the fabric for her outfit, but she went on vacation to Montana for a week.

The day of our wedding, everyone was on time, except for mother. She was not only late for the photographer who was taking photos before the ceremony, she was 20 minutes late for the ceremony. Because she hadn’t finished her outfit in time.

When I confronted her about it later, she said, “Well, I knew a week was enough time to make it, but because I stayed late at your bridal shower. . .”

I started screaming at her. We were in a Sear’s parking lot and I just cut loose. I screamed that that was the only time I ever planned to get married and she should have been on time. That’s when I got a genuine apology.

Looking back at my wedding day, I see that mother being late wasn’t the only way she had a hand in my wedding. The unity candle wasn’t my idea; it was hers. I told her I didn’t care about having a unity candle. It simply wasn’t important to me. She pushed the idea until I gave in on the condition that she purchased the candle, regardless of cost. I searched for several weeks before I found one I liked and the price tag raised my eyebrows. It was $13, but mother paid it as promised. I realize now that I could have just blown off looking for a candle and told her I couldn’t find one.

She also tried to insist that I go to a particular bakery, which she liked. I didn’t want to go there. In the end, I simply didn’t. It bothered me that she was so insistent on having her way in regards to planning things for my wedding.

Later, at a child’s birthday party, I did try the cake from the bakery she insisted I go try. I wasn’t impressed. I’m glad I didn’t waste my time going there.

One weekend while living with mother as a rent paying adult, I left without telling her in person that I was going. I usually had Sunday and Monday off, but had made arrangements with my boss to change that for the one weekend, so I could go on a road trip. I left a note saying I would be back Sunday evening. When I came home, she read me the riot act because I had not told her in person that I had taken that Saturday off. She found out by calling my work and embarrassing herself by asking for me. I was so shocked I couldn’t say a word. I wrote her a letter telling her that I had every right to do as I chose. That she had no right to make me feel like a teenager who had snuck out in the middle of the night to do something wrong. Especially not when I supported myself without any help from her. She never apologized.

I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part 33

Mother seems to have an odd attitude towards gifts. One year at Christmas she gave me a video that at one time I would have been delighted to receive. I took one look at it and quietly said, “Uh, oh.”

Danice heard me and asked me what was wrong. I quietly explained my feelings about it to her and mother overheard me. She wanted to know what was wrong. When I explained it to her, she held out her hand and demanded that I give it back to her. That she would find something else to do with it. She didn’t offer to replace it with something else or exchange it for me. She simply took it back.  Had the situation been reversed, I would have either told her where I got it so she could exchange it or offered to exchange it for her. I certainly would not have demanded that she give it back.

She once bought a children’s worship cd for Caleb. When I told her that I wouldn’t be able to play it for him, as we didn’t have a cd player in the living room, she asked me to give it back to her. She would then see if she could exchange it for something else.

She also made a lampshade for a crayon shaped lamp and gave it to Caleb. He later got it taken away from him as he broke the bulb in it by knocking it over. Mother happened to come over and ask why it was in the living room, instead of the bedroom. When I told her, she said if we were going to give it away, she’d like to have it back. At this point I told her that she had no choice in the matter as she’d given it away.

She doesn’t understand me and has never really tried. I’ve quit trying to force her to. It doesn’t work anyway.

I know I was rebellious as a teenager. I realize now that it was largely the result of mother’s efforts to control me. I was not free to choose what I wanted to wear or what I read. When I was a teenager, bib overalls, spaghetti straps, halter tops, tube tops, two piece bathing suits, and short shorts were not clothing options for me, nor was anything strapless. All my bathing suits had to have a skirt or a little fold of fabric to hide my “jutting” pelvic bone. She even asked our pediatrician about my pelvic bone and received his assurance that there was nothing abnormal or “jutting” about it. Didn’t make any difference in the kinds of bathing suits I was allowed to wear.

Even as an adult living in her house, there were things such as the comics in the Sunday paper that I enjoyed reading, but that wasn’t allowed. Then there was a book called, “The Last Starfighter,” which she not only wouldn’t allow me to read, when she did catch me reading it, she took it away and destroyed it. The book didn’t even belong to me. It belonged to Andrew.

I have two regrets about my rebellion. One, I didn’t know then why I felt so rebellious and therefore didn’t understand it. Two, I was sneaky about it. I honestly wish I’d had the courage to tell my mother to “go to hell!” That I was going to explore who I was and what I wanted from life regardless of what anyone thought.

There was an evening when I was about nineteen or twenty and Andrew took me to his apartment so we could watch a movie on TV together. Mother insisted on coming and picking me up by a certain time, period. Despite our objections and telling her that Andrew would bring me home. I really resented that. She made me feel like I was a child who couldn’t be trusted on a date by herself. That wasn’t the only time she meddled in my relationship with Andrew.

One day he invited me out to dinner. Later he came and told me that he’d told a friend, Tracy he would take care of her son, Jacob, for the evening. I got upset with him, as he hadn’t consulted me despite the fact we already had a date for the evening. I told him that if he was going to take care of Jacob, I wasn’t going to dinner with him. He wouldn’t change his mind so mother went to dinner with him in my place. When they came back, she had the nerve to tell me she didn’t understand why I wouldn’t go to dinner with him and Jacob, as Jacob had been a well-behaved little boy. How well Jacob did or did not behave was not the issue. The issue was his refusal to consider my feelings and put me first in the matter.

 After Tracy took Jacob home that evening, he came to me and wanted to make it up to me by taking me out the next night. I was so angry and hurt by his refusal to put me first earlier in the evening, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go out with him. I screamed at him to leave me alone.  That I would think about it, as I didn’t know right then if I wanted to go. Mother came in a few minutes later and told me it wasn’t fair to Andrew for me to leave him hanging like that. Then she demanded that I make up my mind and give him a decision as I wasn’t being fair to him. I didn’t care at that point what was fair to him; after all he hadn’t been fair to me by agreeing to care for Jacob without asking me first.

I only agreed to go to dinner with him the next night because I was pushed into a decision and did not want to miss a chance to eat out. I hate to say this, but I didn’t really enjoy anything about our date. I didn’t go out with him that evening because of a true free will desire to be with him.

Andrew and I have since talked things out. He understands that what he did that evening was wrong and hurt me abominably. Yet this incident continued to bother me, but I couldn’t figure out why until someone told me I needed to forgive Andrew for what happened. That’s when I realized it wasn’t his part in this, which still bothered me. It was mother’s. I resented her interference in what should have been strictly between Andrew and me.

Another time Andrew got upset over something someone said to him on the phone He went outside and I started to follow him out but mother motioned for me to stay inside. Then she went out and talked to him about what was bothering him. I got so angry; I took it out on him for not refusing to talk to her. I realize now I was angry with her for doing what I should have been doing. She pushed her way into the situation. And she still, to this day, pushes herself forward.