Thinking about MIL

Well, I am writing another entry today.  Today is DH and I’s anniversary.  We thought about just making a cheap home made dinner (well, we always make home made anyway – but this would be more romantic) to celebrate, then thought better of it.  Who can relax and enjoy dinner when there is an ogre stomping around slamming doors, grumbling and nosing into your business? Answer: You can’t! So we aren’t.

I am thinking about this time last year (as I’ve posted about this earlier: ) which makes me think about my late MIL.

I’ve not posted much about her on here yet because I really don’t know how to explain the whole ordeal without making the post a novel. There are so many small parts to it that lead to bigger parts.

All I know is FIL was so mean to MIL.  MIL had a somewhat rare brain disorder (I’m going to keep the disorder private so I have more anonymity) that affected her speech, her balance, her eyesight, her peeing/pooping and her judgement.  Some would say she was a prisoner in her own body.  Maybe, but she was really a prisoner of her husband.

I thankfully have survived 11 years with a passive aggressive man and I now realise just what he was.  It took me two years after leaving him to figure it out!  The emotional abuse was so covert that you really don’t realise just what is happening while it is happening! So I have the ability to see what this man is, I don’t think my MIL really knew.  Or if she did, she was not in a position to leave (financially) or her illness made it impossible.  (Her illness began in her late 40’s) So watching my MIL go through some similar things and not being able to help was just… god awful.

Being around my FIL when he interacted with MIL was unbearable.  He was always so nasty to her, belittling, etc.  He knew it took her longer to get ready to go anywhere, but he would refuse to help her get dressed or get ready.  Instead he would stay in his “office” and five minutes before they were suppose to go out he would come out to get her and then make a ruckus because she wasn’t ready.  He always talked to her like she was complete garbage.  If he helped her get to the toilet (rarely) he would hold on to her improperly by walking behind her with his hands on her shoulders then pull faces and make fun of her (he would also make fun of her now altered voice and laughter) while letting go of her shoulders just for show.  She would start to fall and he would flail to catch her.  Sometimes he didn’t catch her.

The rare times he watched her (which was only for a couple hours a week for 3 months of the ten years she suffered) he would punish her.  He would make her sit in her poopy underware.  He would have time to give himself a bath but when it came for her to have a bath (she could bathe herself, she just needed help into the tub) they simply didn’t have time. FIL took bathes, she used the detachable shower head. The shower head has been broken at least 2.5 years.  He has not and will not fix it, because it doesn’t affect him.  However if he had fixed it her 30 minute showers would have turned into 10 minute ones!!  If she needed her medication, he’d forget to give it to her.  No matter that she had a pill box and her son would beg FIL to please give her the pills.  FIL had time to eat, but he would often forget to feed MIL those days.  He would also persuade her that she needed to lose weight, that 120ish was just to heavy…  I don’t know if he ever hit her, but she always had bruises on her because he wouldn’t watch her and she would have falls.  When she died she had bruises all over her face.  We don’t know why.  I know the rest of the family had to have seen them when they came to view the body, but no one ever said a damn thing.

I think about her a lot.  She was a very kind person. Unfortunately I didn’t know her very long before she passed away and sadly 4 months before she died I rarely saw her.  FIL had blown up on me and I was so depressed and frightened that I retreated upstairs and rarely came down again.  But I hear she asked about me quite a lot.  I wonder if she knew.  I feel so bad about it all.  But what could I have done?  I don’t know.  Go to friends of hers? I don’t think they would believe it! DH and I were not in a position to move out with her and she did not want to go in a home. (That might have actually been better for her) I wish I would have fought more for her. Instead DH and I tried to take her out as much as we could (we really didn’t have money) to help her on assisted walks, to feed squirrels etc.  I guess at least she had some good times. 😦

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