Family Visit From Hell

Last fall we had the Family Visit from Hell. I had trouble coping with E’s mother (Tanya) being here. She came right when Tyoma's school started and she stayed for two months. Sigh.

Part of the problem was Tanya's mission to prove to me that Tyoma is "normal." (ha!) I realize that this stems from her denial of her youngest son's high functioning autism diagnosis. If Tyoma--with less differences and more spectacular talents than her son--has autism, then she was wrong to deny her son's autism. Constantly, she would drag me into conversations about autism and show me online videos of friend's children, telling me how normal T was by comparison.  At what point in the multitude of screaming meltdowns Tyoma had during her visit did she say to herself, "Wow! How totally normal!" ?  Brrr.

During her visit, I felt constantly harassed, crowded, and watched. She repeatedly sought out my approval and jabbered to me in Russian so fast I wanted to clamp my hand over her mouth and shush her. In every conversation, she would inch toward me, waltzing me into corners and through doorways. I constantly felt in a state of near panic. I hate having my personal space invaded, and I had no idea how to ask her to step back without offending her.  I feared a major freak out was immenet. One inch closer and I would tear at my blouse, bang my head or scream. I resorted to hiding in my room or sneaking out of the house to avoid her.

My senses were assaulted. She sprayed perfume in her room, lobbed on scented lotions and washed her hair with strong floral concoctions that lingered on the towels even after I washed them. Well meaning, but memory impaired, she would inadverdently disorganize my kitchen, leading me into near melt downs when I looked for specific items. I am embarrased over being so anal retentive, but if that carrot peeler is not where it belongs, I get ridiculously upset when I need it. It's as if it vanished into a vortex and does not exist.

All my hiding, freaking out, and generaly avoidant behavior did not contribute to an environment where she felt comfortable or happy. I can't blame her, and I am sorry. But calling all her friends and clamouring passionately on the telephone did not help. I might be paralyzed speaking in Russian (and English), but I understand perfectly well. Since I have trouble tuning out information, it is inevitable that I will hear all the complaints. My sympathy quotient goes down.

I can get along with Tanya. In particular I get along well for about week. Afterward, all my sensory circuits are exhausted. The second week is a chore, but I can keep it together as long as I hide.  After that, frustration, resentment, and anger set in. I still dread the idea of a visit in a skin-crawling way that my husband does not seem to understand.  Can you get post traumatic stress syndrome from a family visit? Brrr.

It's not as if the fall visit was an isolated incident. After Tyoma was born, E and I agreed that she should stay about two weeks.  Her initial fall visit was short, but her plans fell through and she was stuck here waiting for her husband and son.

The whole trip was poorly planned. It induced enough  unhappiness to keep us from green lighting future extended visits. E was unhappy with her too, I should add--but that's a story for his blog. Anyway, two weeks here,  then hotel.  What a bitch I am.

You know the worst? It was not my escalating aggravation over misplaced kitchen utensils or the violation of having my panties folded into little compact cylinders.

I only got along well with her when we did something I personally enjoyed or benefitted from. We shopped together well, unless she was telling me what clothes she wanted to buy for Tyoma or Egor. Seriously, if it’s her money, who cares? But I was offended to the core if she bought something I would not buy. WTF?

Sitting down and talking in Russian about something that does not pertain to me is beyond boring. It is outright insufferable when I have to do it in Russian. If she did something I needed, like cooking or taking care of Tyoma while I was ill, I scraped together some decency. Otherwise, please retire to your room until requested.

Realizing this was a sucker punch. I was the villain.  It shook me  to see how I contributed to this mess, especially since I consider myself to be golden when it comes to courtesy. I knew that I was different from her, that I needed more space, etc, but I hated seeing how ineffective I was at problem solving.

 I felt burdened by her. She took more energy from me than she gave. I’d be glad to do something for her, something concrete. I just couldn’t bear to socialize. In my house. All day long. E and I socialize on only the most basic level-- we chat, eat and then follow our own pursuits. I am ashamed to say that I have a very utilitarian way of looking at relationships and our exchange was flawed.