"Okay! "
(As the owner of a small business, I actually said this to an angry customer. She was so flabbergasted that she just gaped in shock, then quietly left.)

My mother died Dec. 22, 2020. Even though we had a "difficult" relationship, it still cast a pall over Christmas.

We were sitting around after Christmas dinner when my brother-in-law (a psychiatrist who treats soldiers with PTSD, I might add) called to say "Merry Christmas". We passed the phone around so everyone could say hello. When the phone got to me, not a word about my mother. When I passed the phone back to my husband, I whispered to him, "He does know my Mom just died, right?" BIL heard me and told husband, "Yes, I do know but I didn't know what to say to her." Faugh.

I haven't spoken to him since and I don't plan to. I've known him since I was 15 and I'm 65 now. If he can't muster enough guts to at least say "Sorry for your loss," I have nothing to say to him either.

All this to say, the _reason_ may be that "they didn't know what to say" but it's sure as hell not an excuse.

"That's a hard trap for me as well. I know she's hurting. I want to help her. If she could see what she did to me, maybe she'll stop doing it to herself. But I can't make her see."
And she may never see. That's her weakness/choice/disability/whatever. Even if the cost is so high - losing you! - she can't or won't change. I struggled with this too, stayed in contact with my mother far too long, hoping that I could help her, bring her to some happiness or peace.
It was only on her deathbed that she let the "poor me" mask slip and commented that I "had been sent here to take care of her." Suddenly her hating my husband, resenting my children (until they were old enough to be of some service to her), begrudging the time I could give her, made sense.
I wasn't _Supposed_ to have a life beyond her, I was _Supposed_ to be her shadow, her slave, her one adoring person. And if I had gone along with that plan, when she died, and I would have been left with nothing? She didn't care.
It broke me, it really did.
Fortunately, I do have a life, a job, lovely children, and grandchildren (and a ex-husband who I realized was just as abusive as her, once I could see it).
So, don't set yourself on fire to save someone else.

The assault occurred when she was nearly 4. (Stranger, not family)
Her teen years were tumultuous to say the least. Abusive BF, living on the streets, all that. She pulled herself out of that (a thunderbolt one day "I'm better than this, I can do better than this") and got herself back into school, therapy and a job. So damn proud of my girl.
She's now mid-30s, has a diploma in HR and Payroll and is married with a child. However, the mental damage was so great that it caught up with her and she can no longer work. She is on disability and sells plants more as a hobby than income. She is a great mom, her child is a delight, but she will always be haunted.
So yeah, Feck those who say s*x abusers can be rehabilitated. Maybe they can. I don't care. My daughter has a life sentence, so should they.

Without going into the story, here's my seven words on this topic:
My daughter has a life sentence, so should he.

I ghost-wrote an autobiography for my mother.
She called it 27 Kitchens. Because between her parents, grandparents, boarding school, hospital kitchens and kitchens in Canada, Scotland and England in her married life, it came to 27. I thought it was a brilliant way to structure her story.

elf. The minute I got a job that would support me, I left. And six months after that, I had to move to a new place and not tell anyone (most of my kids don't know where I live) because he was sta

I initiated a separation agreement after about four months.
And divorce proceedings a year after the separation agreement was signed. He's out of work, the kids barely talk to him, his siblings don't talk to him, he's sick and alone. And my - still - biggest grief is that with all that staring him in the face, he won't take responsibility, accountability and just figure out he needs to change. Being "right" is more important than anything else.

It's just so damn sad.

I told my husband I was done on our 45th wedding anniversary. We married very young (18 and 23) (it was really the only way to escape our abusive childhood homes). It was good for so long, we had kids, built a house, had fun, good sex.

Because it was so gradual, I'm still not sure when, why or how it happened. As the kids got older and I had more time, I started doing more things for myself, started growing as a person, doing things for and by myself. I got a good job outside the home, started taking care of myself, started new hobbies and learning. All that good adult stuff, you know?

And he got ... sulky? Started telling me what I "had" to do in the marriage, started criticising what I was doing in the marriage, refused or sabotaged joining me in activities. But I kept trying to reach him, trying to be with him.

Somewhere in there, he started drinking. Since he worked at home and I worked outside the home, I didn't know how much or how long.

Then I gave him an iPad. He discovered right-wing YouTube videos and all of a sudden, he wasn't my husband any more. I was living with some angry drunken man who wouldn't stop arguing with me. Climate change, the EU, vaccines (we have an immunocompromised child!), immigration (we have two immigrant children-in-law!), gender politics (we have a gay son, a bi daughter in law and a lesbian granddaughter!) social change ( "building a wall" etc contradicts every Christian principle he once espoused!)

When I challenged him on how he could reconcile his current behaviour and beliefs with being Catholic, I was told I was being brainwashed by mainstream media. (I barely had time to sleep, let alone listen to the radio) When I asked him why he was insisting on driving our children away, he told me "you married me, not your children". I never knew who I'd find when I came home from work, angry drunk him, lovey-dovey drunk him, paranoid accusatory drunk him.

And that was it really.

I didn't choose him or choose my children, I choose myself. The minute I got a job that would support me, I left. And six months after that, I had to move to a new place and not tell anyone (most of my kids don't know where I live) because he was stalking me.

And two years later, I'm realizing that I have CPTSD from it all and as much as I've healed on my own, I need therapy.

I wouldn't stand up as MOH for her, but I would go to the wedding. Not attending the wedding burns a bridge. She's very likely to cut you off and not think of you as a safe person anymore.
She's going to need someone (lots of someones!) when this all comes crashing down and leaving the bridge unburned lets her know that she can turn to you.

Here's a tip for all of you, that I came up with after an ... exciting birth.
Sit on the toilet facing the tank.
That way you can lean forward and the pee doesn't run over your damaged parts, it just goes straight down.

I got talked into attending Christmas Day dinner with most of my kids and my soon-to-be-ex husband (their father).
He didn't talk to me, but followed me around for 4 hours, sitting as close as he could (I kept moving to get away from him) and eavesdropping on my conversations. In other words, stalking and controlling. It re-traumatized me all over again.
I've learned my lesson. Never again.

I had one of those. Two word sentences at 4 years old. Very poor large motor control. We knew there was a smart kid in there, we just had to give him time.
And wow, is he smart! Math/physics degree, manager at a software security company, plays bagpipes, violin and guitar, three kids, lovely wife, owns his own home.
No, Miss Kedroski, he's not ret#@%Ded at all.

Yeah, the quotation marks are really petty. But the wording is really interesting too.

_We_ would like you to come for dinner.

Not, note, "Please come for dinner." or "Would you like to join us for Christmas dinner." or even, "We'd be delighted if you could join us for Christmas dinner" or, anything really, other than a bald statement of what _they_ want without regard for what you might want.

When the Romans finally had had enough of Nero and sent the Praetorian Guard to bring him back to Rome for trial (and/or immediate execution), he barely managed to mortally wound himself first. As he lay dying he gasped, "Oh, what an artist the world is losing!"
If you need a name for your JN, I suggest Nero.

Not me, my sister and brother-in-law.

They have a really nice house in the country, and enjoy having friends and business associates visit. One potential business associate !proudly! told them when leaving after a weekend visit that they had a lovely home and "even the bathrooms are nice, I used every one of them."
!
There are 6 bathrooms! One in the master suite! And he even used that one!
I don't need to say that the man didn't make it past "potential business associate"...

I give them home made frozen chicken pot pies. This came about after my brother-in-law told me he had spent years trying to find a restaurant with chicken pot pies as good as his mother's. Apparently mine are!

LOL.
This reminds me of a story my daughter told me about her abusive ex-boyfriend (let's not talk about the agony of knowing your daughter is under the thrall of a abusive piece of shit...)
To make a long story short, shit-for-brains decided to pick a fight with a bunch of toughs one evening. One took a swing at him, he ducked and the punch carried through to my daughter. Being my daughter, she punched back and knocked him down. (Yes, even feisty take-no-prisoners women can be brainwashed and gaslit...)
Shit-for-brains was infuriated. NOT that his girlfriend had been hit, but that she had struck back and defended herself.
"You de-masculated me!" he whined.

Several years, stalking, and a restraining order later, we giggle about it now... "de-masculated" ...snort.

"men will protect women in a hostage situation"

A reporter spoke to refugees in a refugee camp after the Rwanda massacre. The reporter asked "Why are there so few women and children here? What happened?"
And without a trace of shame or regret, the men replied, "Oh, the women were carrying the children so they couldn't run as fast."

I have sons, and I've done my best to raise good men, but seriously sometimes I just want to launch them all into the sun.

My nearly ex (just waiting for the divorce to be finalized) told me he wouldn't apologize because an apology was a commitment to never do whatever-it-was again and he couldn't promise that, so he'd never apologize for anything. And if I needed an apology to move on, that was my problem and proof that I had no forgiveness in my heart and therefore didn't really love him, and therefore who was really the horrible person in the relationship?
I am working very hard on forgiving myself for falling for this bullcrap for so many years.

"Your autism is a significant contributing factor to my alcoholism."
Background, at the time:
We'd been married for 44 years
My diagnosis was 5 years previous
His out of control drinking had been going on for about 2.5 years.

He will be an ex-husband by Christmas.

I kind of like that one set of grandkids call me "Gramma Catherine" to distinguish me from all the other Grammas in their lives.
Maybe a variation of that? as in "Ma-Karen"?

So busy building the new house that I forgot to pack the old one. Didn't remember until I was opening the front door of the old house after picking up the moving van.
The next thing I remember was yelling for my husband to go get more boxes as I stood in the kitchen upending drawers into boxes.
I'm the one with spatial awareness but didn't get to pack the moving van because I was in the house desperately shovelling shelves into bags and boxes...so my husband had to do it. The move took two trips instead of one, and lasted until 3am. I was still finding "lost" items a year later.

Fellow Aspie here.
It's amazing, once you spot the pattern, how often you see this behaviour.
I sum up the pattern this way: "We don't want to hear it, and you're wrong anyway."

And once you see it, you realize that it's happening because you've "allowed" it.
But once you see it for what it is, you don't allow it any more.
And everyone around you goes crazy because all of a sudden they don't have their punching bag any more. It's hella uncomfortable for a while, but it's worth standing your ground.

I've lost people from my life. But I've gained so many more!

The first thing to learn about boundaries is what they are.
The second thing to learn about boundaries is you (yes, you, the helper/punching bag/invisible until needed person) are allowed to have them!

Well done you! Keep going!

A joke my 9-year old son came up with; "What do you call a boring bland shade of brown? "

Mediocre.

Suitable for all audiences....

Honestly? I'd just go NC without telling her, now, while she's distracted. By the time she gets her head clear and notices, it'll be a fait accompli.