Sampiro, , I came across this (more info) the other day and was wondering if you or your mom had heard of it, seen it or would find it interesting. I don’t know anything about it aside from the links, but I instantly thought of the post you linked too earlier. It’s amazing what one comes across when surfing.
Could I thank you for occasionally making my family look more normal? 
“You’ve worked all your life for me, Mother - now go out and work for yourself!” 
“You’ve worked all your life for me, Mother - now go out and work for yourself!”
Well my 1st post is a dosey! I may not be nearly as eloquent nor fascinating as Sampiro, but he’s motivated me to PURGE my soul!
Sampiro, I know this was written long ago but I do have to ask - did you ever write a book? I’d love to read the ‘the remainding parts’ of your life. Fascinating. You have a skill for making the reader drool for more.
Ok, off I go, my post (story book) is below.
Jocasta Complex / Emotional incest!!
Gosh where do I start? I apologize in advance - INSANITY cannot be best described in 4 sentences or less.
18 years of marriage and I never realized there was a name for this. “EMOTIONAL INCEST” aka Jocasta Complex
Although I’m finally in ‘relief’ mode, much of my life has been a true living nightmare when it came to my motherinlaw. She basically RAN my husbands world thus mine as well. Along the years, I’ve found my own coping skills but really, the level of her control and manipulation tactics were very abusive. I have to own and face that I tolerated being abused. NOTHING about that is ok! No one should allow themselves to be abused by someone else. Hindsight is 20/20
Back to my point. The spiritual being I am, I don’t advocate for divorce even when things seem impossible, I lived in agony (albeit it was MY choice to stay in this marriage). Trying to sort out the dynamics between my husband, his mom and why he had a very disproportionate attachment to protecting her and not at all me (in any given moment). He was HER protector, not mine. It caused me endless nights of crying myself to sleep. On the whole, he’s a good man who’s provided for me and the children. The rest was beyond sickening how she controlled every moment of his life and he had no spine to stand up to her.
Early last year, MIL pulled her usual “give me attention because I’m sick” antics with 1 exception. This time she feigned cancer. I say feigned because it turned out to be 1 huge lie.
We now live far away (5 hour plane ride) for the past 2 years, that much I’m thankful for.
Much of what was purported to be going on with her health were eventually discovered to be all fabrication in attempts to get my husband to take a prolonged time off his career, tend to her needs and find a way to permanently drive a wedge in our marriage. I since found out she CHOOSE this opportunity because she heard there were some issues in our marriage. No doubt those issues were HER!
For whatever reason, at the last minute before plans were finalized for him to take off 3 months of work and basically leave me and the kids much of that time - to be a caregiver for his dying mom - he decided to basically demand to talk to her oncologist to get a few answers. Something wasn’t sitting right with him and whatever she did or didn’t tell him.
With a bunch of resistance on her part that seemed overly odd to him - he started to ask around and found out that she never had cancer and much to most of her extended families surprise, they were unaware of any illness on her part.
He confronted his mother but was very clever how he proceeded. (I guess he learned a thing or two about manipulation). He told her things had to be on hold for a few weeks due to unforeseen events at work but he’s coming to care for her. He reassured her, all the while recording her conversations, documenting information in a journal and gently asking her the same questions over and over (in a variety of different ways).
To his dismay - all on his own- he realized how much he was being played and lied to. The shocking reality that overcame him (with grief) was something I never saw in him. He knew after a couple of weeks - what a pawn he was in her life. How much she manipulated and lied and how exceedingly skilled she was at doing it!
I sat back and watched quietly, having my own suspicions yet zipping my lip (as normal protocol all our life).
Needless to say, he gave her the biggest send off any INSANE motherinlaw has ever received. He changed our numbers, even our cell numbers. All mail that came at Christmas was returned promptly unopened in a NEW envelope stating again his wishes were to never contact us in any way ever again.
He wrote her and everyone else in his family detailed letters and provided a play by play to everyone - exposing her for the sick beast she is. Told them all that there is never going to be any contact ever again. When his equally mentally-ill super-religious cousin got our new home number (sneakily mind you) through an old mutual friend of ours… called my husband repeatedly to ‘explain’ on behalf of his aunt / my husbands mom - he (My husband) threatened him with the police if he was ever to call us again.
Needless to say SILENCE TRULY IS GOLDEN.
My husband took it a step further. In November he started to see a counselor 2x’s per week and invited me into the sessions a couple of weeks back. He told me how wrong he was. How much he realized how his support and alignment had always been with his mother and not me, his wife - as God intended. Leave n Cleave. To support me, stand by me and stand up for me. He’s weeding through years of newly found guilt within him how he betrayed me, my love, and not being there for me. Guilt I’d rather he not feel as he is deeply remorseful for his actions. Not stopping his mothers abusive ways, manipulative tactics. Furthermore, he’s confessed that when he’s gone home to mama in the past, she (mama) encouraged & enabled him to visit an old flame in the same town - because hey, whats the harm in ‘visiting’ right? . While he assures me nothing physical ever went on, he realizes he was cheating on me in tiny bits by having some emotional connection with this woman, a person he hid from me.
He allowed to have more than 1 woman in our marriage. His mother & his old flame. He promised with everything in his heart, that never again will anyone come between us.
He truly is a NEW Man. It is deeply sad it took something so sick as his mom lying about having cancer for our marriage to start healing. Yet, asking him how he feels about it all - he smiles and says he’s never felt more free, happier or stress-free in many many years. He loves me deeply, bought me a new ring (which really doesn’t matter to me) but as a symbol of our new love and bond. He showed me the ring and said this is a perfect circle, nothing can penetrate it. There is no opening, no room for anyone in this marriage but you and me.
NEVER once asked him to cease all contact with his mom. It was his choice freely. When I asked him what made him decide? He said - our children. Our children spent months being sad on the phone with grandma, crying and feeling the loss that she was dying. Their emotions and what they suffered was too much for him to bear and face them when he realized it was all a lie. He knew his mom had no heart for even hurting our children in the most evil of ways. It was always about her.
I am proud of him for making those decisions and then proceeding all on his own to seek counseling to help him work through the insanity and discover what it means to be a great husband, a wonderful man. He’s now the living example of what I pray our son will model his own life and marriage after!
Ask me if I’m thankful for waiting it out, not giving up or divorcing… I will tell you a 10000 times over - YES. I am eternally grateful.
Until tonight - I NEVER knew there was a name for what my husband suffered from. I do now !! Emotional Incest - perfect description.
This. And if you need someone to help with editing and publication, let me know. I’m certain I’m not the only one on these boards who can help (paging twicks). 
I am serious, Sampiro. Your writing is brilliant, and takes me into worlds I had never imagined. You describe people who might in real life make me tear my hair out in crazy frustration or run screaming for the exits, but you describe them sympathetically and with such compassion that I know just a little what it is to walk in their shoes… and this helps me have compassion for those who surround me.
I want to simply add - I hope he/ my husband can forgive himself. I’ve forgiven him and he deserves it for all the intense hard work he’s done in the past few months. His growth mentally & emotionally has me absolutely amazed in such a short time. He is truly walking the ‘talk’, is consistent and is a different man.
I don’t advocate everyone cutting off all ties with their mothers yet sometimes, in some cases, it can be the healthiest thing for all. There’s never once been a ‘deposit’ by this woman, into our marriage or children. She only cared to use ‘withdrawal slips’ so my husband chose to withdraw her from our lives. So sad. Why can’t people just be direct and ask you for what they want in life? Like hey - I’m lonely, I’d love to talk. Come visit when you have time. I could use a hug. I need some time alone with you, etc etc etc. Ask for what you want in life, you’d be surprised how your loved ones will respond. I strongly dislike people who play ‘games’ to fulfill their needs (or mental illness).
I also want to say I appreciate the candid & very entertaining post by SAMPIRO I appreciate seeing things through your ‘rose colored glasses’ so to speak. Your life truly needs to be documented. If anyone knows if he (Sampiro) ever wrote a book, I’d love to purchase a copy.
You are absolutely correct SUNSPACE!! I’m new here - and I only signed on because of Sampiro’s story. He needs to be published! :D:D
Thanks for the compliments.
It’s really weird reading this because I remember the incidents described perfectly well but have no memory of writing this thread. And am I always this long winded? (NO ANSWER NEEDED.)
Looking at the date, this was written not quite two weeks before my mother was diagnosed with terminal metastatic lung cancer and the next few months of course were spent round-the-clock caring for her. I mention the following for the benefit of people who are still in the position of doing this for parents who they love but who are NOT the easiest people:
I was told many times whenever blowing off steam/venting/laughing about “Shit my Mama Said/Did” that “you’re going to feel really guilty for saying that when she’s gone”, or the variant, “when she’s dead and gone, you’re going to miss even the bad times.” My mother has been dead for 5 1/2 years and, point of fact (and mentioned for those still in this position), nope, I don’t feel for the venting, and while there are many things I do indeed miss about her, I DON’T miss the bad times (e.g. the tantrums, the neurotic demands on my time). This is also the experience of others I’ve known who’ve been in similar situations.
And in fact, upon reflection, the only people who tended to say things like this were people who either didn’t have extremely demanding relatives they were caregiver for, or else people who had a lot more to feel guilty about than occasionally blowing off steam. So the moral if there is one: vent away, because otherwise you’ll go frigging nuts.
@Sampiro: I’m so glad you came back to this thread. I feel like a dummy for admitting this, but…I don’t get the “punchline” in your OP. Why did what your mom say make you go all cold? TIA!
Before this drops off the page again, I’m pretty sure that the title (Jocasta was Oedipus’ mom) indicates that **Sampiro **thought his mom was looking at him too much in the role of husband, especially how he’d replaced his own dad.
Yup. Sampiro’s Mom was upset that his father had placed a higher priority upon his mother (Sampiro’s grandmother) than upon his wife, and commented that she was glad Sampiro had his priorities right. Of course, the only woman in Sampiro’s life was … his mother. Sampiro’s mom was saying that he was treating her the way a husband ought to treat his wife. Hence, :eek::eek::eek:
I think my mama had the ridiculous idea that I would be The Keeper for my brother (14 years older than me, drug addict). He still lives with her and she still gets him up in the morning to send him to work, fixes his meals, etc. I sat her down and told her in no uncertain terms that I was not doing a DAMN THING for him once she’s dead, and that she better make provisions for him in her will, because I never want to hear a word from him once she’s dead. I’m not so concerned though, because I think when Mama croaks (and I doubt she’s got more’n ten years left in her) he’s gonna follow her into the grave within a year.
I’m not planning to go to his funeral.
Sorry to hear that your family experienced such a situation. I guess the way I look at it is that if people think that behaving in such ways is appropriate it probably goes to show that they probably have had a very messed up life and in a way we should feel sympathy for them for that…but I do agree that in some cases that should only be done from a safe distance to avoid getting involved in their drama.
I would like to echo Voyager’s comment of nearly six (6!!!) years ago now and say, Finish the Damn Book Already!
There are Dopers here who want to read it. Like me.
Sampiro, what about the book? I’m already invested and crave more.
And me! I have always loved your writing style. I’m sure I would not put down any book you write until it’s been read cover to cover.
My husband and I are both keepers as well: he’s the oldest, I’m the only. I took care of my grandpa for about two years until he passed, and now my husband is taking care of his mom. It has not been easy for any of us.
About the book, Sampiro…I think I know what is happening. You are over thinking it. The book has been written, but now you are editing it. You are trying to make everything perfect. Have you ever started pruning the roses and ended up with bare stumps because you had to just keep cutting because they weren’t perfect? Are you doing that to your book?
Maybe I’m wrong. I often am. So, if I am…then I’ll add my cries to the crowd. Publish the damn book already!!!
Hey, sorry- wasn’t ignoring you but just read the question. Basically the reasons the others said: she totally conflated me with her husband in my responsibilities/priorities/role in her life. I think a large part is that by the time I came along the marriage was already a great big mess and even while my father was still alive she genuinely preferred going places with/talking to/playing games (not just mental but cards and the like- she loved card games) with/confiding in me than him. After he died I was the only option, but the one she preferred anyway.
I won’t call the book a bouquet but the analogy is fair and definitely part of it. Plus I go through periods of “ain’t nobody gone ever feel like readin’ this bunch of foolishness; hell, it’s about growing up in the rural south and ain’t even got it a cross burning or a sassy black maid”. Currently I’m suffering from what I call “The Curse of the Mamaleum” as well- I’m living in my mother’s house (because it would be stupid to sell it while I’m still in this city) and surrounded by a lot of her stuff (because it would be stupid to sell it and buy new furniture) and it just feels somehow… treacherous- to write or edit some of the stuff here.
There’s also the “how to market it” thing. Is it a memoir? Or an autobiographical novel? I can see an argument either way; it is certainly as accurate and probably moreso than most books sold as memoirs (compared to Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil or Augusten Burroughs’ books it’s damned near a refereed article in terms of accuracy) but I do re-create dialogue from scratch and I sometimes blend stories or embroider a bit so it’s not 100% accurate.
Biggest part of re-writing it is it’s about my parents. This is going to sound hypocritical considering the last thing I wrote in this thread, but, I am extremely concerned with how I depict my mother. It would be super super easy to do a Mommy Dearest on her, and you wouldn’t have to gild the lily or blacken the crow either way because at her worst she was, in a word, horrifying. However she was also one of the kindest, most generous, overly compassionate, genuinely loving and selfless people you’d ever want to meet.
The really hard part to impart is that when she was kind/good/wonderful Mama, she wasn’t faking, it wasn’t just a persona. She didn’t wear a mask, she was the daughter of Janus and one face was as real as the other. And that’s very very hard to write, because it’s easier to portray her as a HellBitch, but harder to show the other side that dominant the vast majority of the time. (I’d give the breakdown as 80% of the time a wonderful person/15% of the time genuinely good but temperamental/4.5% of the time impossible and 0.5% of the time crazy utterly unreasonable goddess & empress of all psycho bitches, and not in the ‘wild and wacky Madea’ way than Cotton States Medea*.)
Also I’ve yet to write the last two chapters. I know what they are of course, they take place in 1987, both are extremely dark** but just can’t get it on paper, not that I’ve tried that much recently. One reason is that without any kind of embellishment the true story alone is so damned over-the-top* that I think to myself “nobody is going to believe this happened” (i.e. one involves using a Ouija board and information stockpiled from years of eavesdropping on alcoholic parents arguing to keep my mother from killing herself).
But, the one short response I meant to type is "The book mostly exists, I edit it and still haven’t quite capped it off. I do toy with the idea of submitting some chapters of it to agents or publishers but haven’t yet. (Sorry for the verbosity, call me Nebuchadnezzar for I babble on, but I haven’t talked about this stuff in a while.)
*On the Medea part, my sister to this day has nightmares about a couple of incidents in our childhood. One involves an event when I was 4 years old. Check this out for Southern Gothic: one school year my parents were hired to start a new private school (a segregation academy basically, but they needed the job) and since the town was about 100 miles from us we rented a house there- an antebellum two story rickety Greek Revival number in a small town on the Georgia-Bama border. One night my sister woke me up, put my bedroom shoes on me (still remember them, they had plastic Dumbo heads on the toes), sneaking me past the coffin in the second floor hallway (which is a whole other story) and down a creaking spiral staircase out into the backyard where we hid in a former slave cabin because my mother was having a psychotic episode and telling my father she was going to kill us and then herself. Okay, how much Southern Gothic overkill is that? So much- it’s not even in the book because NOBODY would believe it happened, and it’s completely unvarnished. (Incidentally I do have anxiety over what effect airing some of the family linen will have on my sister; she’s rich but she already has major social issues.)
**In writing as in life, dark doesn’t necessarily mean depressing. One of the stories I’m asked to tell most often in person- which happened years before the two unwritten chapters- is entitled, in print, ‘If That Mockingbird Gets Broke’, or Why I Flunked Freshman Poli-Sci, but is referred to a bit differently by people asking me to tell it:
“Jon, please tell them the story of when your grandmother had the stroke and broke her hip and they tried to send your aunt back to the mental hospital so your mom decided to mercy kill her!”
Believe it or not, it’s considered one of the funniest stories I tell, and it’s true, but it just sounds like something only a dick would laugh at (especially since a big part of telling it in person involves imitating my grandmother when she’s disoriented and paralyzed from a stroke, but trust me— you’d have to read it or hear it, it really does actually have some parts I can barely tell with a straight face, and imitating a stroke victim is necessary. And while my mother’s plan to euthanize my great-aunt (which really happened) sounds really awful (and caused me to flunk freshman poli-sci), it was far from evil and in fact was one of the sweetest things she ever never didn’t do (I’ll give enough of a spoiler to say she didn’t actually go through with it).
I seem to recall a lonish explanation of yours that I can’t for the life of me find, where you explain how you feel about you mother. It was liberally sprinkled with “I bless AND curse the gods for her.” It perfectly explained what she was, atleast the version of her you choose to portray her. If you remember it, or have more luck finding it then I have, put it in your book. Everyone will understand.