Social rules

Talking about my husband’s family is difficult for me, as they’re a tricky people… I dunno, it’s like there’s some weird set of secret social rules that I really don’t want to tread on, and writing anything down about them, even if I would love to tell them in person, if they ever found out, I would hate for them to take it the wrong way and start a family feud. I am, after all, notorious for screwing up. So while the chances of them finding this blog are slim, it’s still possible. And I honestly love them, they are my family too. So even if they took something I said incorrectly, it would still be my fault for saying it in the first place. But… at the same time, it really bothers me that I can’t just up and say whatever I want, especially something that bugs the crap out of me. There are so many social rules that boggle my mind…

My husband and I inadvertently caused a small fight in the family just a couple weeks after our wedding but not sending some of his family a thank you card. He has never met these people before, they live in another country even, and they were calling his grandma, not us! to complain about us not sending them a thank you card. Um, yeah, like I want to thank you now? We were on our honeymoon! If someone has a problem with me, I want them to come to me. No one else, but ME. I made a mistake, let me fix it. Ugh. So I have to tread gently so as to not make another stupid mistake like forgetting something so crucial as a thank you card. Don’t get me wrong, I like to thank people. I even learned how to say thank you in 20 some odd languages and leave thank you notes behind in restaurants using all the languages. But I am HORRIBLE, downright DREADFUL at remembering to actually send anything through the post. I have this amazing friend who is working in Germany and I have been horrible to him, forgetting to send him his Christmas presents and birthday presents… He leaves there soon and I want to get him his presents before he leaves… it’s been years. Ugh.

So the fact that I have to remember certain things makes me want to forget everything and just not tell anything to anyone. I wrote a post elsewhere once saying I had a suicide headache that made me want to bash my head into the wall and someone took it to mean I was suicidal and they freaked out, wondering who was going to take care of the kids! So I have to watch what I post in public apparently. This blog is rather secluded. No one in my family knows about it and it’s hard to say if they’ll ever run across is and even put 2+2 together. Part of me wishes they would see it. I hate being all secretive. But I’m paranoid, too. That’s an entirely different blog post. And something I need to talk to my therapist about.

I guess what all started this was that the other day, my mother in law (MIL) came over. She doesn’t outright tell us what she’s thinking, but she’ll make little remarks that, from talking to my husband, seem to have a much deeper meaning. Such as when she said that she’ll just put things away wrong on purpose means that I’m screwing up my job as a housewife by not keeping things to her standards. I guess she expects the house to be spotlessly clean 24/7? My husband is the one who translates her comments, although I think she’s getting more blatant because the other day she came over and complained that no one had done any work since the last time she was here. I know it’s been 20 something years since she had a baby in the house but you’d think she’d remember it’s not that easy. I HATE, absolutely positively HATE DESPISE ABHOR LOATHE ANYONE messing with my stuff. I have always been this way and it’s not going to change. So to have someone come over and feel they are entitled to clean however they want, and to do it wrong on purpose, makes me feel so violated and angry and hurt. Telling her to not clean while she’s over here is like talking to a brick wall, too. I guess she doesn’t think we’re serious, or maybe like we’re using reverse psychology? The worst was while I was in the hospital and she came over and cleaned in my room. I was freaked out for at least a week until my husband blew up at me. He didn’t understand. I don’t think he understands still, the intensity of the feelings I get. I lose myself, I freak out so bad, I can’t think straight.

And I guess that’s another reason that his family doesn’t know how bad I’m really doing. As far as they know, I’m doing fine, just have some seasonal allergies. They may have their suspicions, but we won’t tell them. Not with how they react. Which is really kind of sad. When my husband picked up his motorcycle, he didn’t tell his dad first because he was afraid his dad would try to talk him out of it, talk him out of that bike, etc. His dad was so vehemently against my husband ever getting a bike. He was hurt when he found out his son got a motorcycle but now they’re cool. My husband has already decided that he’s not going to tell his parents if our sons get diagnosed with anything. Or if I do. I know they won’t believe me anyway. My MIL didn’t believe when I told her that my grandpa was on the spectrum. I can’t help it if I hide it when I’m around them. Besides, everyone else is so talkative and I hold back so much, I don’t think anyone even notices. I don’t like their topics anyway 😦 They usually talk about how someone is doing this that and the other. I prefer to talk about the why or something else entirely.

I don’t give a crap about social bullcrap. I don’t give a crap if someone doesn’t like how my house is never spotless. I could spend every moment, from waking to sleeping cleaning, and ignore my sons, and I still don’t think it’d stay clean. I have two dogs, two kids, a husband, two cats, and two rabbits, and my husband has people over all the time. I have to do laundry, cook breakfast, lunch, and dinner, I’m breastfeeding my baby still and plan on doing it for quite a while longer still, I have plants to take care of, and my toddler is always trying to help me in everything I do. I’m not going to be perfect. I tried, I tried so hard to be a superwoman, but I realized it was doing us more harm than good and so I had to let go. I had to give up trying to be perfect. My husband had to let go of the idea too, that it’s just not possible for me to live up to a perfect expectation. The comments of “Well when I was —- I did it” and similar still hurt, but I’m not them. I have problems and I try not to let people know about them, because I don’t want their pity. I don’t want sympathy. It does me no good, and it really doesn’t do anyone else any good either. 

What good does it do to tell someone I have bad food allergies that are currently making me live off meat and water, while I’m trying to breastfeed a baby, and I live in constant pain because I have fibromyalgia, and a neuropathy that may or may not be related to that, that I get asthma along with my allergies and have to use an inhaler… Some days are better than others and I can really get a lot done, but some days it’s a struggle just to get up. Today I was trying to feed the baby and ended up having a horrible coughing fit. I was crippled and the force of the coughing was so severe it felt like my face was going to explode. My face did swell up a bit and my airways became swollen and made it hard to breathe. I was unable to think, unable to act, just laid on the floor, drooling, snot coming out my nose, coughing. It eventually subsided and I was able to think again enough to grab my inhaler. Parts of it I felt like I was going to stop breathing all together. It was terrifying. My neck still hurts and feels swollen and it was hours ago. I suppose it could be stupidity that I haven’t gone to the doctor about it yet, but honestly, what are they going to do that isn’t already being done? I have my meds and my inhaler… It is possible I might need an epi pen soon, especially considering it isn’t just food causing this but smells as well. I’ve never had it so bad before and it’s freaking me out. I can’t get in to see my doctor until the 30th…

I’m a bundle of bad emotions right now and I don’t know how to sort through them. I have to wake up early tomorrow so I can go to my psychologist appointment for further ASD testing… If she concludes I am not on the spectrum, I really don’t know how I’ll feel. There is something going on, and hopefully if it isn’t an ASD, we’ll find out what it is. Can “Weird” be a diagnosis?

Ugh… and now I don’t know what to eat anymore… I’m afraid to eat. The food lover is afraid to eat.

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