Turning shit Into laughable moments
I remember when my mother told me my six month old child was “socially awkward”. I remember when she told me that she felt sorry for my child to have me and my Husband as her parents because she found fault with who we were. I remember I cried. I remember I drank to deal with her comments and to continue being around her after that point. I wanted so badly to feel normal. I wanted to love my family and I wanted my daughter to have a good first Christmas.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever recover from her comments. Actually, I was sure I never would. I tried for ages to try and understand her and why the fuck she’d make comments about a a six month old baby. Who does that? Well, she does that. That’s who she is.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to remove her from my life until she kicked my younger brother out of the house. His girlfriend was pregnant which she claimed had nothing to do with it but I felt enraged at her callousness. I didn’t like how she treated other people and so I decided to never speak to her again. I never changed my mind.
I tried to envision B. at eighteen and what her grandmother would do if she was young and pregnant. Would she be supportive? Would B. have to spend the rest of her life hearing her grandmother speak about her critically? All of these reasons made me glad to never have to speak to her again. I didn’t think my mother was nice. I didn’t find her loving. I still resented her for not fighting for custody of me when my parents got divorced. I still resented her for the comments she made about B. and my Husband. I thought I would always resent her.
But I don’t. Not anymore. I don’t resent or hate anyone I no longer speak to. Not even my “mother”. I am not for her and she is not for me. Not every family member has to continue being in your life. But how the fuck are you supposed to heal from barbs designed to wound?
You laugh about them.
Because here’s a fifty plus year old woman judging a fucking baby. There is nothing about that that isn’t funny. It sounds mean to say that this woman is laughable to me now but it’s the truth. When I am asked about her I am not sad or wistful. I laugh. Because there’s nothing else to do or think or be. And that’s how I’ve learned to get through everything. Laughter. Because nobody has the power to make me sad or make me question my parenting except me.
So if someone has upset you and you feel yourself getting bogged down in their negativity I challenge you to laugh at their comments. Laugh at what they said. Make a joke of it. For me, at least, it’s the only way through and it is, ultimately, life changing.