You’re On Your Own: Good Riddance to the Monster-Un-Law

I don’t believe in haters. What I do believe is that there’s a disproportionate number of individuals whose happiness is based on the misery of others. These people are incapable being unhappy alone, and want to drag you down to their unfortunate level of wretchedness. My mother-un-law is the embodiment of melancholy, the personification of despair. I understand why she is the way she is; her father was an abusive drunk, her son is a hopeless drug addict, and her daughter hightailed it the fuck out of Chicago to California, as far away as one could land on the contiguous United States. Sometimes, I feel kind of sorry for her. Her only joys in life are cooking (I think I’d like her more if she did it well) and Jacinda. Unfortunately, she’s found a way to allow her dissatisfaction with life to influence her relationship with me, and as a result, her granddaughter.

She enjoys saying things like, “It’s not about me. It’s not about you. It’s about Jay-cinda.” Imagine me saying this in a Vietnamese accent. Yes, it is very ignorant, yet, I am unable to tell a mother-un-law story without the accent. During our last discussion about my requirements and expectations, she let that shit fly about it not being about me and this time, I didn’t let it ride. It is about me, dammit. My mother-un-law is under the mistaken impression that she is allowed to totally disregard my feelings under the premise that she is putting my baby’s best interest first. What she fails to understand is that abiding by MY wishes is putting Jacinda’s best interest first. A miserable mother does not a happy child make and doing ratchet shit to make me mad, then accusing me of being hostile is just pathetic. It took me seven years to conclude that this woman needs a psychologist to rid herself of the sadness she refuses to let go of and I refuse to allow her to drag me down with her any longer. Instead of bitching and complaining to my friends about how miserable she is, yesterday, I very politely and respectfully told her that if she didn’t want to follow my rules, she could take the stick from out her ass and beat her own self in the head with it. I’m done allowing her untreated psychosis to drive me crazy. She’s on her own.

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