Sunday Bloody Sunday
The trip from the United States to Guatemala was arduous, not because of the mileage, the terrain, or even the physical challenges of long-distance driving. That was all manageable. The obstacles came in the form of one ornery senior citizen, aka my gaslighting mother. The absolute worst travel companion I have ever had the misfortune to travel with. I was completely unable to enjoy the vistas, the congenial countryside, or the experience of road tripping through Mexico.
Read more: Sunday Bloody SundayRegret, thy name is my gaslighting mother
Every day on the road (of which there were six – that was five too many) was spent just surviving until the next hotel. Wondering if she was going to be in a good mood or a bad mood. Hoping that she would go to sleep quickly and say as little as possible so I could rest before having to wake up at the butt ass crack of dawn the next day to do it all over again. Misery was my company during that journey.
I mentioned before that traveling with her was a requirement. An unfortunate requirement. I have never regretted anything more. All that preamble to say that with my site being offline, and the stress of having my mother in my hair for two months straight (torture. absolute torture), I had some posts that I delayed in putting up until now. Better late than never. Here we go – if you’re squeamish, prepare yourself.
Period Drama
(Sunday, October 26, 2025) My mother tried to gaslight me today. Part and parcel of her attempt to manipulate me into being her, siding with her and hating on Guatemala like she does. For some reason, my body decided that upon entering Guatemalan airspace, it would release the hold on my uterus that had been in place for the last three months. I hadn’t had my period since June. Possibly May. I really don’t recall. Except, it for sure started on Saturday and it was fully confirmed when I first used the bathroom here at the house upon our arrival at 6pm.
Did she just…🤔🤔
So imagine my surprise, shock, and disgust when I said during breakfast Sunday morning that I got my period in Guatemala. My mother is quick to correct me and say, no, it started in Mexico because she had seen some “blood” in the toilet, so that must have been from me.
First of all, eww.
Second of all, what the actual fuck?
Did she just try to tell me that I don’t know when my own fucking period started? Did she just try to correct me about my own biological functions? Did she try to gaslight me about my own reality? Is this happening? Yes.
PMS blame spiral
This can’t be happening. The whole morning immediately went downhill. It was my teenage years all over again. Just her and my brother acting like anything they did to emotionally trigger me was all the fault of my “PMS”. How they had to put up with me for years, and here she was having to do it all over again because I was now PMS-ing all over this morning. That I woke up pissed off.
First of all, I wasn’t pissed off when I woke up this morning.
I’m pissed off now!
I wasn’t anything but relieved to have woken up in Guatemala after struggling for three months to get there. So I don’t know why she thinks she can convince me. Then the whole conversation went further downhill when she tried to imply that my dead stepson had to put up with my PMS too, and that he had at some point confessed this to her.
Secondly, she has never mentioned having had any heart-to-heart conversations with my dead stepson. She chose violence, and she did it in such a way as to cause maximum emotional damage. Made my son cry. Pissed me right off. We don’t fucking talk about my dead stepson, and she definitely does not have the right to even bring him up in conversation, casual or otherwise. She and my brother didn’t fucking know him at all.
Shitshow – The Non-Apology Tour
So, yeah, Sunday was an absolute shitshow. She apologized later, as if none of it had really happened. She talked a lot during her apology cry, but I listened to none of it. There was no point in committing any of it to memory; it was all bullshit said for her own benefit.
I am just biding my time, waiting for her to leave. When I had a moment to speak to him alone, I apologized to my son for not keeping it together longer. That I succumbed to the temptation to react to her triggering behavior. He understood that it’s difficult for me not to react.
Another point of contention
I am not pleased with how my mother is suspicious of my son, she likes to accuse him of conspiring against her. She looks for every chance to act like he is up to no good, or going to do something behind her back, and it is taking everything in me not to put her 6 feet under at each implication.
She is digging herself an early grave. Who knows what she and my brother have been discussing behind my back? Those two are fucked in the head. They are a danger to me and mine. I cannot wait until she leaves. This trip better be worth it.
