I think that I’ve mentioned the Facebook situation before right? The one with the fake profile so that I could keep an eye on my legal mother?

So, if I haven’t talked about it, here it is:

Several years ago, I created a fake Facebook profile with the intent to see what Donna was posting about me and my mom. She accepted my request, of course, she doesn’t know stranger danger. So, she accepts my request and I can see every hateful thing she is saying. Eventually, I try to reach out to her, just to see, and going under the fake name gave me some security. She starts to figure out who I am, so I shut down the profile. But with Facebook, you really never deactivate your account. As long as you know the log in information, you can get into a deactivated account from years ago.

Under this fake profile, I can see that she’s posting lies about me and my mom. Saying how we ruined her life and left her with nothing. Saying that her sisters are the spawns of Satan and that she, being the devout Christian, is the one who is righteous. Saying how she loves the father that she claims beat her and abused her and whom she hated since I was a child. Lies. All of it.

Something got me to thinking…. Well, it was the passing of my grandfather, that made me reach out again. See, I had revealed my true identity several months ago, and deactivated the account. She either didn’t see it or didn’t care. Either way, when I reactivated the account, I messaged her. I told her who I was and it started a conversation.

As it could be expected, it didn’t go well. See, there comes a point that, when, all you do is lie, you begin to believe the lies. That, coupled with her hatred and her mental disorders that are not regulated by medications or therapies — well, you can imagine what it’s like to talk to a lunatic. I’m not trying to be mean. I just really want you to understand, I know how all of this ends. I know what she is capable of, not that I don’t still get shocked when she does something idiotic. But I know her. I lived with the chaos of a deranged mind for 19 years. I know.

She, of course, blamed everyone else. Saying that I’m falling for lies and believing nothing but the worst of her. And, I guess, if you’re reading this post without knowledge of who she really is, maybe you would believe that too. But, here’s the thing with me, you don’t have to lie to me. I may not say something immediately, but don’t take me as a fool. I observe far more that what you’re giving me credit for.

I know what happened in that house over the course of 19 years. I know how I was treated. Yes, there were times that were really good in my life. But there are far more bad things in my childhood that I remember. I remember the endless fights. I remember the rage. I remember everything. So, no, no one has to tell me anything about you to try and make me be on their side. I chose long ago to not fall for people. Especially her.

So anyhow, she starts blaming everyone except the person who deserves the blame. I’m not saying that she was evil, but sometimes, I wonder. She just needs to take SOME responsibility for something at least ONCE. But, no. No, it’s easier to blame everyone else. Everyone owes me something. The world is unkind to me. I’m the victim. Oh woes me. She’s always the victim. Always.

So eventually, this conversation starts to heat up. And all I really want out of all of this: my high school diploma. I EARNED that diploma in 2009 — I walked across that stage. I survived high school, it’s mine, with my damn name printed on it. And she took it! When everything fell apart, she took my diploma and refused to give it to me. Refused to acknowledge my existence — even told people I died. It’s mine, w I want it. She’s had it for FAR too long.

When I tell her that I want my diploma, I wait. I know this is going to be a battle, right? Because everything else with her is a battle. She said that she has it put up, and that she’ll give it to me. I can come get it. I don’t want to come and get it. I don’t want to see her. Because, if I see her, one of two things will happen. One, I’ll panic — panic attacks happen to me when I face someone that I don’t want to. Like that time I saw Tyler after I got out of the hospital, or that time I swear I saw Justin in Cisco. I panic and I run away. Or, two, I’m going to break down all the — not hate — but fury? Maybe that’s the word? I don’t hate her. As much as I wish I could. But I don’t like her either. I don’t want to have anything to do with her…. But that’s not 100% true either, otherwise, why would I be messaging her? No, I don’t want to come get it. You can give it to my aunt, who lives right behind you. If you ever loved me, ever, you will do as I ask. Just this one thing, for me. She doesn’t think she should have to put up with my aunt who “hates her” and blah blah blah. OK, well Scott and my uncle get along, have Scott take it for you and then you don’t have to see anyone. No. Fine…. I talk to my mom who says to give her Mom’s mailing address and tell her that she can send it there. So, I do. And she tells me “thanks for giving in” — that’s all I’ve done my whole life.

So, I give her the address and think, there’s no way that anything is going to come of this. She said she would mail it, but really, how many times has she said she would do something and not follow through? So, we wait. And we talk a little bit, because, deep down, in the recesses of my mind, I do miss her. I mean, she was my mom for 19 years right? So that’s a lot of history to let go of.

We talk, but it’s nothing of true importance. And she asks me if it’s hard for me to talk to her. Well, yea. You lied to me for 19 years, you lie to everyone about what is really going on, you said that you would rather die than live for your teenage daughter. Yes, it’s hard to talk to you.

We stop talking. Mostly because there’s nothing else to say. Nothing that I can do to change what happened, and she’s so confused and full of drama and more lies that nothing is ever going to be the same again. There’s no going back, and you made sure of that.

Then I talk to Mom, who is trying to be supportive, she thinks that maybe Donna and I could be at least friends. But do I want that? Yes…but no. Because I know how this ends. And I don’t want to put myself through that again. Well, Mom talked to Nanny and there’s a package for me at the house. It has my diploma, my graduation cap, the National Honor Society thing that I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to have. It has some of my graduation pictures. But it has my Diploma. After 5 years! FIVE! I have my diploma.

Donna messaged me on my birthday, but I’ve been avoiding that profile. She messaged me again, I just checked it. It says that she guesses I got what I wanted and now I’m done. She wishes me nothing but the best, but wishes that I wouldn’t listen to liars — like she has any room to talk. It was a long drawn out message that said the same thing over and over again. And she said she loved me. But she told me herself, she doesn’t know what love is.

And then, she deleted me. And I can’t see her stuff any more. It’s a blessing, maybe. Because the last thing I saw was that she was going to commit suicide again. According to police records, she does this almost every week. And she did it several times while I was growing up — that’s what ended our relationship in the first place. I’ve never known anyone who craves attention as much as she does. When she threatens to kill herself, she does it publicly on Facebook, so all of her “friends” will be concerned. This last “attempt” – posted two pictures of quotes and said that she was done. Had 29 comments on the post, and 30+ posts to her wall. When the police showed up this time, they said that she didn’t do anything, hadn’t even attempted and she went to stay with a cousin. Again, she’s a frequent flier with the sheriff’s dept out there. She won’t seek treatment. She won’t take the medications that could keep her stable. She would rather have the attention. And I know that sounds cruel, especially for someone who wants to advocate for people and make sure that suicides are prevented. But you have to realize how many times she’s done this, how many times it’s just a false alarm – a ploy for attention of any kind. And one day, if she really does it, who is going to know until it’s too late? I don’t think she grasps the seriousness of the situation. I don’t think she understands that suicide is nothing to laugh at, it’s not a card that you can pull when it’s convenient. Suicide is a serious thing, and yet she plays it like the little boy who cried wolf.

I miss her. But not enough to fall back into that mess. Maybe being deleted is for the best after all.


About Preslee

I am diagnosed with Bipolar 2 Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, Panic and Anxiety disorders, and PTSD. I write about my own personal experiences and thoughts.

Posted on January 22, 2016, in Life. Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. My mom did the same thing but as i got older i realized she WAS unmedicated. She felt like i do. She became my best friend. The only one who truely knows me, with or without my diagnosis. And i too am bipolar 1 with chronic ptsd, borderline, and one other thing i cant remember at the moment. My mom did get meds though, thank god.

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