I was told of hurtful, hateful things I'd said as a teenager while speaking with an older relative yesterday. I apologized profusely and humbly for the pain I'd put her through with the words she'd been told. I felt horrible that those words had hurt her for decades, and continued to hurt her to this day. I felt awful that it took her years to say anything to me about it.
The funny thing is that those words weren't from my mouth. They weren't words I'd ever used, or things I'd said. They were words I'd often heard used often in relation to others.
I knew the source of those hurtful words. Believe me, I knew that source only too well. I'd known that source all of my life.
You see, I'd heard those words and others all too frequently. Words spoken as the person sat at the dining table, painting her nails, drinking beer after beer and smoking cigarettes, and she spoke those words into the telephone for hours every evening.
I heard myself referred to as a piece of shit by that same voice. I heard many, but not all, of the lies and stories told of me over the years. Not all, I'm sure, but plenty.
I heard lies told about every person who was considered a family member or friend. Most contained, I'm sure, at least a nugget of truth. I heard everyone's deepest darkest secrets that were ever spoken to that person. I never repeated any of them, because I knew the source. I knew that there was a 99% chance that what I was told was a lie.
I watched friendships end, marriages destroyed, and saw people damaged beyond repair due to the lies told and repeated over the years.
When you grow up in the household of a narcissist, you become the whipping boy for all of the lies which are told to others. The stories told about you aren't true, but you're not there to refute any of them. I was careful to say little of my personal life when speaking to her. I knew how every word would be twisted before it reached another pair of ears.
Because of that commandment, honor thy parents, you're trapped. You're stuck, unable to call out your parent as a liar. Then, you get stuck with not speaking ill of the dead, so you're still screwed. You just hang your head, and apologize for all of your supposed wrongdoings. And you apologize for the lies blamed on you, and you do it for the rest of your life.
Guess what? Of all of the bad things I've been told about my family members and family friends, I refused to believe anything unless that person told me them self.
Here's a news flash. I'm now breaking that commandment. I'm speaking ill of the dead. I'm tired of the evil I've been blamed for.
By the way... My horrible drug addiction during the nineties? You all heard about it. Truth? It was one joint per summer that she gave me from her stash when the kids and I visited her each year. That's it. That's all it was.
I loved her because she was my mom. But, I'm tired of the lies she told. Lies that are still out there a year and a half after her death.
She found Jesus in her last months. I'm glad, whatever gets you through the fear of death and damnation. Whatever gives you comfort, and clears your conscience. I hope she's at peace, I really do. Everyone deserves that.
Let me be clear. I have no intention of spending eternity in the same place as her. So, if I get to the pearly gates and she is waiting there for me, I will turn around and walk away from there. I won't spend eternity dealing with the same crap that I've dealt with all of my life.
So, when do I post this? My aunt is dealing with hospice and grandmas impending death. She lost her husband less than a year ago. She looked up to her big sister, aka my mom, the liar. Reading this would break her heart into pieces. I get that. It breaks mine, too.
I'm sure many of you will want to pray for me. Instead, why not pray for all of those people damaged by the lies told? Pray for the friendships ended, the marriages broken, the lives destroyed by the endless lies.
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