PTSD

I had the best mother in law.

For a while you were the mother I didn’t have. You introduced me to Christ, and taught me new recipes. You supported and prayed for me, and we shared tears and laughter. You understood how I felt when your son would upset me. You would apologetically tell me he’s “just like his daddy”.

In fact, the first piece of advice you gave me was to train him to not be like his father. I didn’t even know you for a week then, so I didn’t know what you meant, but now I do.

You’re still my mother in law because I’m still married to your son, but you aren’t the woman I remember…or maybe you are. 

I remember you standing up to your husband when he was being his narcissistic and abusive self. Maybe that was because you found strength to do so with me being there. I’ve seen firsthand how he plays the victim when people call him out on his shit. 

I thought you would believe and support me, now that I’ve come out about him assaulting me in my sleep. You came in the room when you heard me yell out “what the fuck?!”, when I woke up. Perhaps you are too afraid to speak out against him because you know how he tries to turn people against all who do. 

Whether you’re in denial or just afraid because you have to live with him, you aren’t the mother in law I remember. When you were, you were the best one anyone could ask for. 

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