For those of you who don't know my childhood ick, be glad. I had a post about it last summer, click
here if you kind of want an update.
I hate being a broken person. It really steals my joy and shows up at the most inopportune times, like tonight.
I was at a candle party having a great time with the guests who came. Two women, about my age came, with their mother. I am sure my stalker (again, you really might want to read the link above) and this mother are related if only by the fact that they operate the exact same way. Shame.
This woman, let's call her Stalker 2, tapped me on the arm and pointed out a picture on the wall in the hostess's dining room that had crows on it. It was a nice picture. Stalker 2 proceeds to point out that her daughter (again, a grown woman my age) has a phobia of crows. She proceeds, "It happened when she was six years old....."
Oh my word! You do not tap a complete stranger on the arm and immediately proceed to tell me family things from thirty years ago. I gently interrupted her and said, "Lots of people have a thing against birds. I am sure she had a bad experience. Right?"
It is obvious this woman purposely positioned herself so her back was to this picture and she is not turning at all to look at it. Crows bother her. I never saw her once look at it. Plus she never went into the kitchen to get some munchies, I am sure, because she would have to pass the crows. It is an obvious phobia.
The daughter looks up and kindly smiles at me, I hope sensing that I am trying to diffuse. She says yes, then turns to her mother. She responded to Stalker 2 just as I used to speak to my stalker. She said in a very low and angry voice, "Mother, can we please have a pleasant evening without you bringing this up? Shutup!" I snuck away to join whatever else conversation I could find.
This was the first incident that happened. A few more happened as well. At one point, she was telling me how to arrange my paperwork. I said in a joking manner, "I got it! I have been doing this eight years, I got it covered!" By the end of the evening, the daughters were hustling her out of there, and I am sure they took a sedative before they went to bed tonight.
And I cried all the way home. That is what my stalker did to me pretty regularly throughout my childhood and into my early 20's before the big break was made. Purposely embarrass me in front of anyone who would listen. I cried for this daughter I met and that she has had to deal with her mother all of her adult life. She can't enjoy a candle party without her mother finding something to shame her with. Who would have thought a picture of crows could be used for shame?
This daughter is a better person than I. I wasn't willing to sacrifice my future to my stalker. I wasn't willing to sacrifice every social event I attended with the stalker sitting on needles waiting for a shameful shoe to drop. I wasn't willing to sacrifice a lot. I am usually not that conflicted about this, but this daughter was a trooper tonight! I have to give her credit. She deserves praise for putting up with this for so long.
I cried because several memories of my stalker doing that exact scenario to me. It reminds me that my brokenness is right under the surface when I think it is further away than that.
It makes me want to pray for awhile. It makes me want to hug my kids a little longer and harder before bedtime. It makes me sad.
You can see what the front of the box is. This is kid's Mucinex. JM has had a very sore ear and I took him the the doctor yesterday. Since all the children's cold remedies are coming off the shelves these days, the doctor said Mucinex is actually okay and useful. It will help drain the fluid that is behind his ear right now. So I send the hubbie to the store to get some.
