Riches and relatives

(I was originally going to turn this into some sort of "why me?" melodramatic monologue, but I've found something much more worthy of discussion.)

I came across an AskMetafilter thread (My mother-in-law thinks we're cheap!) that I found quite fascinating, not least because of my own family background. Both my parents grew up in extreme poverty but managed to make something of themselves... a whole lot of "something", actually, as they were able to single-handedly bring their own parents and many, many siblings out of the slums. By the time I was born, we were all living rather comfortably. My parents never forgot their roots and so I grew up hearing stories about their pauvre childhood; as a child, I was determined to achieve and accomplish at least as much as them, and it wasn't until quite recently that I realized just how difficult they had it (read: I will never be able to do what they did... and my feelings on that matter are an entire other blog post).

Anyway. It just so happens that in the past few years, my mother has begun to feel rather unappreciated by her mother (and family). Yes, the same people for whom she sacrificed so much, the same people she'd spent her life finding ways to provide for them. Now, my grandmother isn't quite as horrible as the MiL in the thread, but she has come to expect certain, er, amounts of money from my mother at multiple times during the year. The key word is "expect". My mom is ridiculously generous when it comes to family and friends, she will deny herself things that she won't hesitate to give others. (and yes, I find that ridiculous, and yes, I do the same thing, so I probably shouldn't talk, but whatever.) So it makes my mom very upset when her mother (and other family members) literally dismisses her gift, deeming it unsatisfactory.

To bring this back to the AskMetafilter thread, I found myself in sympathy with the OP. How do you deal with relatives who think (accurately or not) that you are rich and that they are deserving?

I was pretty appalled by some of the responses. Show the MiL their budget? That would only work if the MiL understood finances, and she obviously doesn't understand anything about budgeting if she expects a $300 coat. Cut off relations with the MiL? Hullo people, this isn't just family we're talking about, it's a mother-daughter relationship, you don't just end it like scraping a wad of used gum off the bottom of your shoe. Give the MiL an allowance? Give her what she wants? Both these replies indicate that the OP is required to provide for the MiL, but unless that's a new stipulation in the contract between parent-child, it is utter crap. Take control of MiL's finances? Good idea, but it doesn't solve the original problem.

So what is the original problem? A lot of posters tried to explain her behavior (some tried to excuse it as acceptable, but quite really now, no, it's not acceptable, even if you don't point it out to her). I'm sure some of those posters hit the bulls-eye on why she felt the way she did, but quite frankly, who cares? The crux of the issue is that she expects you to do something, and you can't do it. The mother-daughter relationship makes it one of those "parent giving unreasonable demands to child" things. Seriously, that's all there is to it. This whole thing being about money just makes it a quantifiable issue as opposed to a psychological mindfuck issue.

So how do you "fix" the problem? How to deal? Obviously, either you change the parent, or you change the child. That is, either the parent has to stop demanding, or the child has to stop feeling like it is her responsibility to provide. Everything else is just icing on the cake.

When I consoled my mom, I pretty much told her the same thing. "You can't change her, not directly. Nor can you expect her to change, I mean, hello, she's old!" (and no, that probably didn't make her feel any better) "No, don't give her what she wants. You know in your heart of hearts that you've done all that you can, and anything additional that you do is because you want to, not because you have to, and you know it." (maybe that helped a bit, I don't know) "Don't confront her, it's not worth the aggravation." (read: get a third party ie. me to do the subtle stuff) "Be content with what you have done, which is an awful lot, and above and beyond any call of duty... because in her heart of hearts, she knows this too."

Did my grandmother eventually see the light? 8-ball says: Ask again later. I'd like to think that my grandmother kinda knows what's up, but I get the feeling that my mom's no longer the focus of her attentions, I am. Yeah, my grandmother thinks I'm rich... and yeah, I think I am too, so what? I also absolutely refuse to spend any money that I don't think is absolutely necessary... and no, I don't think food is a necessity. Or if it is, McD's has that dollar menu, I'm young, I can handle that kinda crap for another decade or so. My grandmother sees that, and then she sees me tripping all over myself to take her shopping and paying for her at restaurants and looking all over the place for the best gifts for my cousins (not quite regardless of cost, but when you know that I try not to spend more than $8.50 on myself if I go out to dinner by my lonesome... if I actual deem dinner to be necessary, which is about once every two days... you get the idea) then maybe, hopefully, she knows how much I care. (I probably help drive the point home when I moan and groan over every gift and how that's the only reason I'm keeping this job... which just happens to be the truth, but they don't need to know that.)

Untitled fragment

Written 12/10, late at night:

A whirlwind's in my head screaming discord,
With unhappy notes jangling awkwardly for...
Peace? This space is currently occupied
By shards of exploding HopesWishesAgony galore.

Denial is composed from heartfelt dismissal
Deeming the death of diminishing despair.
Her surrogate sneers, wintry and wizened,
Acidly birthing bleak misery unaware.

---

I had hoped to finish it 12/11, but my thoughts happened to center on a particular event many years back that evoked more anger than any other emotion. Perhaps I should write a poem about my feelings on that. If I do, it shall be rather cold. Brutal. Unforgiving. Hm, that does sound quite promising.

Deep Thoughts about Life and Death

Many people who deserve to die don't have the guts to kill themselves.

Others who deserve to live are dead.

Nonsense

I've been having really bizarre moods lately. This is why druggies don't just quit cold turkey... they get all messed up. Except, I want to mess myself up, right? None of it makes any sense. Sometimes I think I stopped making sense a long time ago, even though I am one of the most logical people I know. A name from the past appeared this week, and let me tell you, it was just so strange. It was so great to hear from him again, it's been about 14 years, and the time we spent together is something that I seem to have completely forgotten. But I think it was the last time I was truly happy. Because after that was when all the crap started. Maybe if we hadn't moved, things would have turned out differently, better perhaps? It's a moot point; life is what it is and there's nothing anyone can do about it. Anyway, so this guy friends me on Facebook, and he remembers me, and of course I remember him, he was probably my best friend back then... gawd we were so young. I really wish I remember more about that time, remember how I felt back then... I do remember a few events, good times and not-so-happy times, but even those not-so-happy times are completely trivial compared to everything that happened after. God, I miss those days... I swear that back then, I wasn't messed up, just spoiled. My god, I'd so much rather be spoiled shitless than whatever I am today, not knowing whether to laugh or cry or scream or just curl up into a ball and hide away from it all .

Wish I may, wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight.

To be or not to be

This post isn't about Casey. It's about me.

I've always been wary about writing personal stuff online. And even now, I'm not entirely sure it's appropriate to bring reality into this blog. Because, as Casey Serin knows all too well, the Internet remembers. Well, Google remembers, but these days, they're practically the same thing. And because everything is remembered, some enterprising graduate from the Benoit™ School of Internet Sleuthing might be able to follow the bread crumbs back to their source. And if I ever became rich or famous or something, those bread crumbs would be a tremendous liability.

But I don't know where I can turn to, who I can talk to. And I need to let this out, I need to be heard. Maybe one day, someone, somehow, will understand.

I know that it must seem really strange that I have this need to be so open online, where everyone everywhere can see it, but I liken it to blending into a large crowd. There, you're just one of the masses. You're anonymous. No cares about who you are, what you are, why you are. You're surrounded by people, and yet, you are completely alone. I love that about as much as I hate it.

I can't stand being here. I'm going through the motions, and I knew that was all I would be doing, but damn it, I thought I could delude myself for a longer period of time! Maybe I just know myself too well now. Which sucks. Ignorance is bliss, after all. But that's not the point. The point is that waking up every morning is a disappointment. If there was a scale, and unhappiness was a 1, and misery was a 10, I think I'd be somewhere around 23.

I can't go on like this. I've only been able to maintain a few shreds of sanity by losing myself in stories, searching for hope elsewhere, but they sort of just make everything worse, because they're not real.

Anyway. This is a really stupid post. Things are either going to get better, or they're going to get worse, and I supposedly have some say in all of this. I should just do what I want. Except what I want is for it all just to end. I'm so tired. All I want is to let go.

Here's an old poem:

Star's End - 01/22/02

I wonder about being a star,
Blaze of splendor twinkling afar,
Glittering cool in the night air,
Radiant beauty oh so fair.

But stars have got their limits too,
Their fiery glare will burn right through,
Leaving voids, deep and dark,
Scattered emptiness, no more spark.

They'll smolder seethingly, far too hot,
And either shrivel into a spot
Or flare outwards, grow immense
And burst because they were too intense.

Bursting a bubble causes an explosion,
Not so different from a star's implosion.
Needless to say, it matters not much,
Stars live, stars die, all such and such.

But for awhile they'll glimmer true,
Tears against a backdrop of darkened hue.
Stars do mirror, so I reflect,
Mortality on Earth, I do expect.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

It's coming...

Jon McLaughlin: "Beautiful Disaster"

She loves her mama's lemonade,
Hates the sounds that goodbyes make.
She prays one day she'll find someone to need her.
She swears that there's no difference,
Between the lies and complements.
It's all the same if everybody leaves her.

And every magazine tells her she's not good enough,
The pictures that she sees make her cry.

And she would change everything, everything just ask her.
Caught in the in between of beautiful disaster,
She just needs someone to take her home.

She's giving boys what they want, tries to act so nonchalant,
Afraid they'll see that she's lost her direction.
She never stays the same for long,
Assuming that she'll get it wrong.
Perfect only in her imperfection.

She's not a drama queen,
She doesn't want to feel this way, only seventeen but tired

She would change everything for happy ever after.
Caught in the in between of beautiful disaster,
But she just needs someone to take her home.

Cuz she's just the way she is, but no ones told her that's ok.

And she would change everything, everything just ask her.
Caught in the in between of beautiful disaster,

And she would change everything for happy ever after.
Caught in the in between of beautiful disaster,

But she just needs someone to take her home
And just needs someone to take her home.