I was keening over the wrong thing about Katie Joy

My daughter, Katherine Joy  (its not slander to write the truth!! I get to write the name of my daughter:  truth.) has not talked to me, except to get me to handle her financial aid details for her last two years of college, since I dropped her off at Cornell. She did scream, sneer and very painfully insult me when I went by her office building in Chicago a couple years ago and she may have had a panic attack, which was an ongoing challenge for her when she was still my daughter. Another person who worked in the building let me and my brother intisde because it was fourteen below zero outside.

I mention that I was invited in by someone else who works in the building to make it clear that I was not trespassing.

I went up to the door of her office suite but did not try to enter. I did not knock. I was pretending to the nice guy who had let us in that I was looking for a restroom. Turned out the restroom wss inside her office suite. So I made a show of looking until the man who had let us in got on the elevator and disapeared. The receptionist at her employer's called out to me, asking me what I wanted. I opened the door an inch and said "I am looking for the restroom." She said "There are no public restrooms." And I turned around to head to the elevator and leave with my brother. We were at the elevator and it was just arriving when Katie came out screaming.

Katie would not have seen me if she had not come out to have a screaming fit tantrum. When Dave and I stepped on the elevator to go down to leave, she ran down the stairwell that wapped around the elevator, an exit route I did not know about.

I was acting like someone leaving because I was leaving.

But when she came out screaming abusively at me, accusing me, ha ha ha, of behaving badly when I had been politely leaving. . .  well, I've written about that and I am sick of ruminating on my past brokenheartedness.

I have been focused, all these years, on the wrong thing.  I have excoriated my whole being, and done so thousands of times, seeking to figure out what I did that lead to my daughter's decision to disown me.

All these years, and its coming up on 18 years. She left when she was 17. She turns 36 this June. Again, I recite truthful facts. If she is coy about her age, well, it is not my job to be sensitive regarding any needs of hers I might imagine. I can write truth and not be accused of slander.

All these years I have blamed myself. All these years I have been, not always but a lot of the time, very mean to myself. She was the angel daughter of every parent's dreams and I was some kind of unconscious monster who had, unconsciously, abused my child.

She is wounded. She is damaged. And she projects her wounds onto me and blames me.

She was mean to me for years and I put up with it, I willfully ignored her steady unkindness and bullying. Oh, she let me drive her all over kingdom come while she did whatever she wanted in the city we lived in, while she stole money from me to do things. I know she stole because she told me she did. I had thought my money wasn't stretch as far as it had been but it never occurred to me that she would steal from me. 

I had such positive, happy, loving faith in her that I just did not register her steady unkindness towards me.

Rob Jack, her boyfriend at her first college when the two of them were just sixteen and seventeen, used to say, right in front of she and I, that it pained him how she steadily criticized me when I wasn't doing anything wrong.  (she also met Michael there but after moving to Chicago to cash in on Michael's rich relatives' connections, they broke up.). Gee, Rob noted her unkindnesses towards me but me, daffy down dumb old me, I focussed on my love for her.

I know my love for her carried her through years that may have otherwise been harder for her. I know this because no one ever loved me and supported me as I did my daughter.  I always felt, saw and relied upon a love ray that spanned from me to her. That love ray as my reality for her. Love of her was my realilty.

I just never focussed on the way my love rays towards her were scooped up, even inhaled to feed her wounds, but no love rays came back at me.

She wouldn't give me birthday gifts or Mother's Day gifts.  And I gave such slights no power.

The poor woman is so damaged that she wrote, in a 2012 email I only first discovered a ewek or two ago, that she 'loves' me and she was working on being aable to interact with me. In 2012, she had not interacted with me since I dropped her off at Cornell in August 2001. As I closed the trunk on my car, she said "I am done with you". She did contact me once a year thereafter so I would deliver her financial aid needs.

She took and took and took. Clearly she knew what she intended to do years before she did it. She waited until she got me to help her get into that Ivy and she had the balls to contact me once a year for her financial aid. She used me callously, uncaringly and coldly. And I let her.

Daffo down dopo.

My dad, when engaged in self denigration which he sometimes slipped into, would refer to himself as "el dopo Charlie' or "old Mickey the mope".  How I miss my dad. I believe he would say right things to me about my excised heart.  When my sister turned out to be a cunt, dad once said to me "It kills me to see you crying over how she treats you. You have to accept she has turned out to be a bitch, to be nasty. You have to accept that and move on." And even my mom said about my sister, when sis was shunning me (she shunned me unless she saw a way to use me -- where do these nasty humans learn their craft, where did Katie learn how to treat her mother like dogshit on her shoe?), mom said "she only interacts with me because I have money she wants. YOu don't have money. If you did, don't worry, she'd be talking to you to get on your good side to get some of your money, like she does to me."