Mommie Dearest Flashback

Often I have been told by my friends and extended family members that they are amazed that I survived my childhood and what I continue to put up with today. They actual ask how I managed not to kill people or end up in a "facility" (they whisper that as they do cancer). I tell them that I am blessed to have them to bounce the insanity off of them, just to validate that it isn't me or in my head, that in their way they were there the best way they could be and they are here now and that is what counts, how meaningful that phone call means or that hug. I don't like people that make excuses for their behavior because that is how they were raised, because to me it can serve as the best example of how not to behave, how not to continue, what you do not want to become. Unfortunately, I had to recently have dealings with my parents, who are very sick people that truly deserve each other and drain all the energy out of me. From the moment I get to the door and they open it, a nasty comment meant to hurt me is made and so the scene is set. I refuse to entertain them anymore, which makes them bombard and strike harder and faster, but I just sat there trying to get the business at hand done - which of course they extended into a long tedious process that will now involve another visit. My grandmother that raised me, of which I cared for during an emotional breakdown by myself which began when I was ten, is now having episodes like she did during that breakdown. She is showing complete insanity (hence the wire hanger reference - she was throwing clothes off the hangers, yelling, walking on the clothes, saying the mean, vile things - acting like she did when she had an emotional breakdown before -almost same vile words and facial distortion). But she crossed some serious lines when she involved this sickness onto my daughter, by saying nasty and vile things about me to her while my daughter in tears begged her to stop and she called her "a little b*tch", she went on to say that she is dead to my daughter and to me (I am the only one -not her daughter, not my sister or her family, not my brother visit her or put up with her). I bit my tongue until that point and let her know that under no uncertain terms she had crossed lines, that is was a bitter, old woman, that will end up alone because this is it, I will no longer tolerate this behavior. I told her that she was sick and I was tired of making excuses for her, that there was no excuse for this. I left. I called my aunt, her sister, who lives around the corner from her, validated it was not me, got great advice, that we are in this world a short time and I need to start living for me and mine, not for my grandmother, not be everyone's caretaker and scapegoat, whipping post, that I will never be anything but my grandmother's "greatest disappointment" (yes, she tells me this all the time, and openly tells others- but follows that she says that because she loves me and she wouldn't say it if she didn't love me, I told her once I wish she didn't love me like that) but I am more than that much much more and it is time for me to go out and grab it. I cried afterwards. I think I cried for years of abuse, years people are going to be unanswered for, years wasted, the loss of the delusion of possibility, I cried because it is an end that needs closure inside. I don't want my children thinking that this behavior is acceptable, much less a form of love - so why would I, it isn't, and the realization that I was raised by people that did not want me, that abused me, and did not love me ever is hard, very hard. To know that is to mourn it all.