"Marrying the Family"

Posted on May 17, 2012 by Kate Carlton, One of Thousands of ADD ADHD Coaches on Noomii.

There’s an old joke that says “what are the 3 biggest lies?”
The check’s in the mail, I can’t remember the second, and the 3rd is sexual.
Well, the truth is- there is another one.
“When you marry someone, you don’t marry their family.”
Yes, you do.
I bought into the idea that I would get married, and my husband would choose me. Right from the start, my mother in law decided that I was not good enough for the prince she gave birth to. When he introduced me to her initially, I was my “charming” self, certainly wanting to make a good impression. She was cold, condescending, and made sure I knew I wasn’t the one.
I had grown up in a quite comfortably. We lived in a large house, had very nice things, but in no way was I spoiled. My husband lived in a blue collar town in a two-family house. He was one of the only people in his high school not of Cuban descent. When he was in college, his parents moved from that location to a prominent, cosmopolitan city. They went to Florida and returned to an apartment that was priced in the five figures. It was decorated from top to bottom, including candy in the candy dishes. It was a magnificent abode with a beautiful view.
With that came disposing of all the friends that had been with them most of their lives, and they began to hobnob with the rich and famous.
Although I was always more affluent than his family, we never behaved in that fashion. We were required to have dinner with his family, at the most “in” restaurants at least four times a week, I felt insecure and intimidated. I was a working girl, and certainly did not sport Chanel, St. Laurent, Valentino, etc.- nor could I afford them. These dinners were extremely uncomfortable for me. I was not part of the conversation which revolved around the family business which my husband’s sister, her husband and her in-laws, were a part of.
I sat there quietly, bored.
It quickly came back to me through the family that Cynthia did not feel I was good looking enough for her son, or up to her standards.
Cynthia was sexual with him, and it made me quite uncomfortable.
During a trip to Florida with my father-in-law, she called and began the conversation (we were both on the phone), with “I just had the most wonderful sex with your father.” I wanted to throw up.
If you told her you liked her blue dress, she would say, yes, it goes with my beautiful blue eyes. I remember telling her I liked her dress which had a slit down the back, and she was sure to let my husband and I know that she wasn’t wearing a bra. (I needed to know this because?)
Things escalated like a tornado. If she had a chance to criticize me, she would jump at it. She complained about me to my husband incessantly, and he would come home and tell me how she hated me. I came from a small family and the thought of having extended family was extremely appealing to me. My sister-in-law, the same age, let me know quite early, that we were relatives and not friends.
When I finally got engaged, on the way to dinner, I entered their car and quickly held out my left hand so they could admire mynew, treasured bauble. “You can call me Cynthia,” she said. No, “welcome to the family”, or “we are so happy for you.” Nothing.
Shortly thereafter, we had an affair to go to. My husband bought me a beautiful, expensive dress, (the most expensive dress I had ever owned).
I entered the affair with confidence. I finally felt as good as them.
Cynthia came over to me, said hello, and followed that with, “don’t you ever look at yourself in the mirror from the side? I have a friend who is busty. I will tell her to go shopping with you.” The good feelings plummeted immediately.
I knew then, I would never be good enough.
Life was hell with her. There wasn’t a day that went by that she was kind. The first time I went shopping with her to show her a dress I wanted to wear to a very special occasion, she said, “No wonder my son wanted to marry you. You have a body just like mine.” On the next and final occasion I asked for her opinion, she told me that the suit I was showing her, was beautiful, but it didn’t look good on me. It would only look good on her.
My other sister-in-law who was older, married and lived out of state, told me that when she went to her high school prom, after finding the “perfect dress”, her mom made her take it off and Cynthia put it on and said “this is how you should look.”
My older sister-in-law, Pam, was a little overweight, and that would not be tolerated.
Things started to get difficult between my husband and I, as this constant harassment went on, without any objection from him. We would fight constantly over him standing up to his mom, which never happened during my entire marriage.
After my first child, at 3 months old, my grandmother passed away. I called Cynthia crying. I asked if she would mind watching my baby for a few hours so I could attend the funeral. She answered with “I’m sorry, I already made my plans for Tuesday.” I had a good friend, who had no children, take the day off from work to watch my baby.
Her intensity and hatred continued. We eventually moved out of the same city to a house in suburbia. I then had two children. Since my house was about 2 miles from the country club they attended, she decided that she had carte blanche to enter my house, without calling, whenever she chose to.
It was disastrous.
She told my children they were fat. She told me I was fat. Both of my children developed eating issues. Every time she was with my daughter, you could hear her saying “fat cells” with every bite my daughter would take. She told my daughter in front of my son, that she was her favorite.

At holiday dinners, she would come empty handed, plop herself down, and order people to bring her things. As soon as the coffee was served, she was out the door. I would cook for weeks, setting a beautiful table and making sure everything was perfect. Dinner lasted anywhere from 15 to 20 minutes.
The one time I asked her to bring something was during Passover, where you are not permitted to have any bread products, especially at the Seder table. There was a bakery next to her apartment.
I asked if she could please bring a small cake for the holiday dinner.
She brought an Easter cake with an Easter bunny on it and jelly beans. I don’t think it was “kosher for Passover.”
I could go on and on. How I survived her is a mystery to me.
After 22 years of marriage, my husband had an affair. It lasted over a year, and I had no clue. My husband had been going through a bi-polar episode, and had been acting very strangely. His emotions reeked havoc inside his head. He continued to work, left the same time every day and came home the same time every night. I eventually found out from her fiancee who informed me that this was going on.
Eventually, my husband felt he needed to tell his mother what he had done. Her response to him was, “what took you so long?”
The best thing about my divorce was not just being apart from my husband, but not having to be tortured by her. My husband introduced his new girlfriend to Cynthia, and she called her a “whore”. His new girlfriend was stronger than me.
My ex- mother-in-law died 3 years ago of cancer. She would tell my children how thin she was and how much weight she lost. My husband was away on a pleasure trip in Europe when she passed. They had to delay the funeral so he could finish vacationing. He told my children not to come. My daughter didn’t. My son did. That was their decisions.
She was a very wealthy woman. She left everything to my husbands sister. He, and my children, did not get so much as a pencil. My sister-in-law took it all, and shared none. Apple trees don’t make oranges.
Maybe in hindsight, he should have defended me. Maybe not.
Either way, she is gone, and I am out! Free at last….
Kate
http://www.eastcoasttherapist.com