Why am I here?

 I talk about general things a lot in here, while referring those who want a more personal glimpse into my own story to my blog, but tonight I think I’m going to combine the two. Let’s chat a little bit about what goes on here, behind the scenes, why I’m here, why this group came to be, and why I continue to be here.  

 

First of all, Susan is my parent. She’s batshit crazy, she’s entitled, she’s a narcissist. I will NEVER be good enough for Susan. Nothing I can ever do will ever be good enough for Susan, because I simply don’t hand over my kids, my money, and my rights to free speech for my mommy to control.  

 

I’m here because I choose to be. I’m here often. I’m here (in the PAGR group, on the page, on my blog, in my emails) often 19 hours a day. I’m here because even though I’ve won my grandparent’s rights suit, if anything was to ever change law wise, if Susan was to get a windfall, or if Susan could convince another lawyer to work for free, I’d be right back in court. Likewise, even if Susan was to drop dead tomorrow, I would still fight with every resource that I have to end grandparent rights. No one should ever have rights to children that are not theirs that have a fit parent(s).  

 

But ya’ll all have heard that a million times. Why would Susan say I was here? To make her look like a fool. To draw attention to myself. Don’t ya’ll know, I wasn’t raised that way? And she’s not wrong. I wasn’t raised that way. I was raised to be perfect. I should automatically be the prettiest, the skinniest, the smartest, and the one who has everything but I should NOT draw attention to myself in doing so, I should NOT purchase (or ask someone to purchase) any item that might help me along the way, and I shouldn’t dare ask for help or any questions on how to get exactly where Susan thought I should be.  

 

The problem with ALL of that is: I was not born all knowing. I was born to two parents who both have large builds and large families, and the last time I saw Susan herself, she was well over 250 and five foot even. I was not genetically dispositioned to be what she wanted me to be. Now, I’d give them all hell when it came to the dance studio or the cheer squad. I was a bigger girl; but I could handle my own. Susan was a bottle blonde, though she was a dirty blonde to begin with, so she thought that to be everything she wanted me to be, she could throw a bottle of blonde dye from Wal-Mart on me and make me into Barbie, forgetting that I have DARK brown hair with auburn undertones, and was terribly “disappointed in me for not TRYING” when I came out with the orangey read hair of death (because one can simply will their hair to be the color of their mom’s choice by TRYING.)  

 

Even cutting to what she wants of me as an adult-she wants me to be this person to the public, but without the things it takes. I should present as a happy, popular, bubbly super mother who hands over her kids at the drop of a hat, doesn’t spend any money on herself or the kids and finances her mother’s whims, but still presents the picture-perfect home, the perfect menu weekly, and the most well behaved, stifled kids you ever imagined. In other words, I’m supposed to perform miracles, make Susan look great, spent no money, and pay Susan’s way in life. There is NO winning with Susan, so even if I was to bend over to her whims, I’d never, ever be good enough.  

 

Unfortunately for Susan, she’s opened a can of worms she can’t quite close. With her demanding, her calls to CPS, her never ending posts of hatred on various platforms, and her relentless smear campaign towards that same daughter she claims she misses so much, she’s pretty much guaranteed that even if I was to fall and bump my head and decide to let her back in, I could never support her financially as I’m constantly in the public eye (due, in part, to my diagnosed PTSD from her own actions) and I am constantly being scrutinized, so any “extras” goes to my home, my kids, and everything that makes the world go round while within the public eye.  

 

What sucks for her is I enjoy doing the things she hated doing so much when we were coming up (family pictures, we don’t have a single one from my childhood. She never decorated, unless for Christmas. Big meals? Nah. Make up? I love the stuff!) It also sucks for her that no matter how hard she tries, I am never going to be her little doll anymore. My hair? It is its natural color, as I haven’t dyed it in 5 years, and that natural color is dark brown, save for the one small strand of stark white in the very back of my crown. My weight? More than she’d like, by far. My desire to wear things other than baggy sweats and tees to cover my fatness? She probably is crying over that right now.  

 

But biggest of all... It sucks for her that I’m here. The fact that I’m here HOPEFULLY signals that what she says about me being lazy and self-centered doesn’t ring true. The fact that WE are here makes everything she says about me never amounting to anything wrong. The fact that she claims she’s going to make history by changing grandparent’s rights laws, yet we are sitting here making history daily and changing state laws one state at a time.  

 

So, in case you’re wondering why Susan has ramped up her crazy lately, there’s a laundry list of reasons as to why that might be. Your guess is as good as mine.