Fake Support System, Fake Friendships

Being a mother is difficult and finding a support system you can trust can be just as challenging. How many mothers out there have been burned by mothers’ groups, churches, business associations, and civic organizations? Now when I say burned, I am referring to someone who posed as your friend to get you to join the group and then when problems began to occur, he or she started acting distant, couldn’t be contacted, suddenly didn’t have any time for you, and what he or she promised was never delivered.

You see, being a mother means a “gold mine” to some deceptive individuals and groups. It means there is the potential to make money off of you especially if you drive a nice car, have children in private school and your husband makes a lot of money. The so-called friend may have been that nice young woman with the two children you met on the street who introduced herself as, “a Christian and I would just love for you and your children to come to our church!” or the nice gentleman who patted your children on their heads and said, “We have a place at our location for the children to play, so please do come to the meeting.” You may be affiliated with groups who helped you with something, offered their ears when you needed to vent, or gave you money. So you felt like you owed them and they took advantage. You may have been meeting with them for days, weeks, months or even years, but these days you are disgruntled with this person and the organization he or she represents.

I think sometimes we, mothers, are easy targets because we are so wrapped up with our children. People assume we don’t pay their tactics too much attention. For once, we just want to believe that the opportunity will help us and our families. However, what usually happens is we are used to recruit who we know, fork over money and service for cheap products, and if we are “real good” we get pennies back for our efforts.

Meanwhile, your associates are tapping you on the shoulder about their opportunities and before long everyone is going around and around in the same circles spending up cash that ought to be saved for a rainy day. One popular cosmetic company has been the talk of many for years, but how many mothers have came out millionaires from selling their products? Do you know any?

It hurts, doesn’t it? I mean all we wanted was a nice, friendly group of folks we could trust, but something just had to go wrong--“He say, she say” gossip, too many hands out asking for money, lies, and jealous women after whatever they can get! Most problems start because of false promises. Then you quickly learn that the words people say are nothing more than lip service with a dollar sign behind them. We pay these greedy people and then with eyes glazed over, they look for someone else. I mention “eyes glazed over” because if you look real close a money hungry person doesn’t have any real compassion behind their eyes. They talk as if reading from a script. They move their hands almost mechanical. Their laugh is an act. They are so busy moving paper and pens around, you find yourself focusing more on what they are doing then what they are saying. These fake friends are shaking hands with this one or that one, there seems to be no soul behind their eyes. People like this have what I like to call “a one track mind” all they see is what can you do for them, “Will she give me that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?” When all is said and done, you are lucky to get a “thank you” from them.

As a mother, you should be careful associating yourself with these people who suddenly call you “friend.” We often warn our children about their friends, but we need a reminder ourselves. Not every woman who extends her hand out and says, “Nice to meet you, I would love to know more about you…” is our friend. Not every man who says, “I would love to help you and your family…” is a friend.

As I write, I recall a storeowner who calls me “friend.” I earned that title because I am a repeat customer to her not because we sit back and drink lattes together. We aren’t friends. We are business people, but a nice term she chooses to use when she can’t remember my name. She’s not a friend.

There is a woman I know who suddenly becomes “friends” with everyone when she wants family and friends to support her children’s fund-raising events. After they are over, you don’t hear from her until they start up again.

I met another woman who wasn’t interested in getting to know me, but more concerned about my religious affiliation so that she could get me to attend her church. The long-term plan would have been to get me to work in her church. I was her “friend” too. Mind you, she never referred to me by my name.

There are those so-called online friends who seek you out because they have some perverted agenda. It doesn’t matter that you are a mother. Some of these mothers are interested in more than just a girlfriend to talk on the phone. However, in all fairness, I have met some women who I would call on-line acquaintances who periodically talk about their lives. Still, I wouldn’t consider them my friends.

Lastly, there are those fake friends who just want to be a friend, because you have connections. “Doesn’t your husband work at…” or “Do you think you can help me with such and such since you know so and so…”- definitely not my friend.

Children Look Forward to Things, Adults Don't

This summer I learned a thing or two from my active four sons. What I noticed is that they look forward to life experiences from the smallest to the largest, but I, not so much--too busy looking backward.

When my sons awoke each morning during their school vacation, they looked forward to getting ready to go outside, because they had some idea of what was ahead and even if they didn't, they fantasized about the positive. One son imagined more games for his gaming system, another assumed he was going to get more shoes to add to his collection, and the others figured they would get more play cars and trucks to push around. They had some great memories and they wanted to create more! On the other hand, I looked backward to days of scolding, arguing, spending money that I didn't have, and standing in lines I rather not with one of my sons whining about "I want that..."

Each day, almost like clockwork, the children looked forward to going to the mailbox, answering the door, saying "hi" to a man in costume shaking a pizza sign, and running through the park. As for me, I had anxiety issues about the mailbox, didn't want to stop and talk to a costume, and rather avoid the park with all those annoying insects!

I had an internal war between the negative me and the positive me. I didn't look forward to another day with four at times hyperactive boys much less want to open my eyes. You see, I was overwhelmed! I had the perfect plan for everyone and everything at the start of my summer and I was running out of steam trying to keep up with it all! (I was like Martha in the kitchen while Jesus was visiting. She was getting angry at Mary for not helping!)

In my world, what use to look bright and happy was dismal and gray! I was resenting the good and evil was blurring the lines.

Somehow through all of the glee I had saw with my children, I did recall moments with God, so much in fact, I stepped out on faith one day and found a better church to attend. It was that kind of peace (I know some of you know about it) where you are in a storm that others would rather run far away. You know this, when these so-called well-meaning advisers say, "I wouldn't put up with that...the father needs to do more...you need to do something for yourself and forget about those children for awhile..." This time I had to stay. There was no vacation or personal time. No babysitter or person who I could lean on and talk away the blues--I was a big girl now and I had to look beyond my circumstances, right? What's funny? My circumstance was my children so looking beyond them couldn't be done. Rather, I had to re-learn how to look forward to things, not run away from them and they were teaching me how.

Nicholl McGuire

Son tells Mother, "You look like a boy!"

You may have saw the music videos and sang along, "...like a boy..." You know the ones about a woman reversing her role to act like the boyfriend who has hurt her--otherwise known as role reversal. You may not have thought much about these influential female artists trading places with men. They were communicating messages about how women can be just like men--they can get dirty and give them a dose of their own medicine, so we applaud! Those messages didn't mean anything much, right? Well, when the male side of you takes over the feminine, so much in fact your son says, "Hey mom, you look like a boy!" We have a problem!

One day while walking with my son, I was wearing the typical t-shirt and jeans, hair pulled back look I often wear. My son acted like this particular day it was a new look for me and commented how much I looked like a boy. He asked me, "How come you don't wear lipstick, where are your earrings? and how come you don't wear a dress?" I told him I do wear those things, but I didn't know when was the last time I looked like my feminine self. I mean I had been raising boys for awhile now and I guess I just took on some of their styles. I was trying to remember when I traded pants for a dress, then it dawned on me that I gave that up when one too many spots showed up on my clothes from sticky fingers and tear stains. I mean, to me, it was all a bit much for my hectic schedule with them to get all dolled up! But you know what, he had a point, I looked into the mirror one night and stared back at the reflection of "the boy me" and I didn't like it. I was a mother who looked like a boy. I had allowed four male personalities including the ex and the current father's styles to dominate my taste in clothes--it was time for a change.

I could have very well just been happy with what I saw, and told my son, "Why don't you put on a dress and see how it feels?" But he had a enough sense to know that obviously his mother wasn't herself these days. He remembered the feminine me and his alarm alerted me that I was slipping into a person that wasn't really reflecting me. I think sometimes that's what we need, someone who is going to not be accepting of every little thing we do and say. They serve as our warning when we find ourselves falling into some territories that could quite possibly be misconstrued. Maybe that's why some of those lesbians I ran into while walking were so friendly with me.

It seems these days it's all too cool for women (and girls) to wear what men wear, do what men do and even take a man's woman from him. The line between female and male seems to be rapidly blurring. A blending of the feminine and masculine is what some of the "powers that be" want. For some, they revel in the madness of having both a man and a woman in one body complete with supernatural and robotic abilities--a super human of sorts. So what does all of this have to do with the mother who lives in a small town out in the midwest? Well, if she is dressing her son like a girl and treating him like one then taking her daughter and treating her like a boy--alot! She most likely was influenced by the following: her own "tomboy" past, the things she has watched or read that reverse roles, been hurt or sexually abused by someone who she trusted or think that this is what is best for her children. She may have reasoned in her mind, "I see nothing wrong with my son carrying a purse or loving the color pink" as one woman told me. You see, it's all one big experiment orchestrated by people who have spent a lot of time studying the psychology of the brain. The average person doesn't like to read much less study about how to manipulate people into furthering one's agenda. These masterminds start their quest of study by simply asking one question that has a domino affect on others, "What might happen if we raise a boy to act like a girl and a girl to act like a boy?" Before long, you have a society of confused, peculiar people who have absolutely no morals! Once these children become mature there most likely will be a tug of war between what is natural to the female/male and what is unnatural. There is no need for a parent to be saddened even angered by the outcome, he or she created the mess. Then what do most people who create messes do? Try to package them in a way that we will swallow them--I don't think so!

by Nicholl McGuire

Top Ten Things My Sons Have Done This Summer that Drove Me Batty

In no particular order of importance the following are the issues I had to repeatedly handle and remind my hard-headed sons:

1. Don't come from outside and go into the refrigerator with dirty hands.
2. Refrain from discussing or participating in certain bodily functions at the dinner table.
3. Leave your brothers alone!
4. Avoid listening or watching anything that is sexual in nature. (Too bad I couldn't censor the prostitutes in the entertainment industry or walking along the street!)
5. Stop butting in when adults are having a conversation.
6. Read, write and learn something other than Nintendo DS. (I scheduled time during the day for all to read and complete worksheets.)
7. Stop blaming the other guy when you know you did it!
8. Don't lie to me!
9. Did you do your chores?
10. Did you brush your teeth, wash your face, and take a bath!

May the countdown back to school begin...

Nicholl McGuire

My Melt Down - A Mother's Reflection of Anger

A Mother's reflections of wild emotions experienced after her child's death...

What now? My beloved child is dead, yet the world still goes on. No one seems to understand. Everyone wants me to be O.K. "Be happy again!" They want me back to normal, but I don't believe it is entirely out of concern for my welfare. No one knows how to deal with a grieving parent. Everyone is on edge and believes that if they mention my son's name, it will upset me even more. Or, worse it will upset them. Other parents come with their own set of paranoia and fears; they think, "What if something happens to my child?" Friends and family want the "old me" back, some say they can't be at ease around me any longer. Some have gone out of their way to avoid me, to the point of turning their shopping cart the opposite direction in the grocery store aisle... just so they wouldn't to have to speak to me! Still, the few friends who do call say, "We don't like to see you like this. You have to get over it. Go on. You're not fun anymore!" The worst comment I have received was from an older woman at church who said, "I'm so sorry Dear. I know how you feel, my beloved Barney died last year!" (Barney is a DOG! Her Yorkshire Terrier! A damn dog!!!) Don't misunderstand, I love animals. I am a pet lover/ owner and PETA member! Although, I don't understand how could someone compare the loss of a dog to a child? I love my dog too, but I didn't give birth to her. A dog is a wonderful companion. My child however, is part of me, forever connected to my soul. As a Mother; I nourished his body with my own for nine months, he grew under my HEART! It is not the same!

The list of insensitive comments goes on and on! It is better just to turn the phone off. I stopped returning phone calls, emails, or even answering the door! PJ day turned into PJ (pajamas) weekend and I found myself in an internal battle whether to shower or go back to bed. I silently screamed, "I just want to be left alone!" Yet, the next moment I yearn for someone to be here to listen and understand. Wishing for someone who would not criticize or judge, just allow me to grieve naturally! (Whatever, that happens to be at the moment!) I have days where all I do is think of my departed child, I search through the photos and drag out more boxes of precious memories. Then I have other days where, "I don't want to see anyone or anything that reminds me! Not necessary of him, just that he's gone!" My emotions fluctuate like the changing winds. One moment I am calm and serene, in a state of denial. The next moment, "I am so mad, No matter what, I feel so desperately alone! I want to die, too. I can't breathe! I could KILL somebody!"

Unless, you are a grieving parent you cannot possibly understand the range of sensations swirling so intensely inside. So wild are these contrasting emotions that it feels as if I was a violent volcano just waiting to erupt! Who do you complain to? Who do you scream to, "It not fair. It's too soon. I want my baby, back!" Society dictates that we remain calm, even reserved. Yet, when a child dies, there should be some amendment, some forum or some way to SCREAM out... "I'm as MAD as HELL and I won't stand for this! It's not FAIR!" But, alas... Grieving parents usually end up suppressing their feelings or lashing out indiscriminately.

Which brings me to my personal outburst. I decided to share this story, because my grief counselor, Joe asked me if he could share my story with other grieving parents he works with. He felt it was a perfect demonstration of spontaneous rage which while is not a good thing; it is according to Dr. Joe, "Perfectly normal!"

Here's my disclaimer: To hear Dr. Joe tell it, you would have thought I hogtied and pulverized a poor defenseless geriatric. (LOL). Here's Dr. Joe's version according to his clinical notes he shared with me.

Received call from client (Dawn), who was hysterically crying and sobbing, while driving. Client had a fight at a gas station. She scared a poor old woman half to death, who was "not getting done fast enough." I could hear the frustration and terror in her voice! Provided emotional support by having Dawn pull over and practice breathing techniques to calm herself. Advised Dawn to go straight home and contact me later if necessary. - Grief Specialist

I certainly don't like the way my grief counselor retells my story. That doesn't show me in the best light, but it is his impression. I still tell him, "It was an argument, not a fight! To explain further, this 'fight' took place only a few weeks after my son, Jimmy died of an Epileptic Seizure while away at college. I was still vacillating between denial and rage. Most days I barely existed. It was in the "Stop... the World; I want to get off stage!" I was barely functioning... I slept on and off all day long, but lay awake throughout the entire night with debilitating heart-stopping grief!

Although, I selfishly wanted to join my son in death, I had other responsibilities. Some I could ignore like taking a leave of absence from work; suspended my college classes (taking a semester off) and allowed my perfectly clean home to be a lot less clean and perfect. Although, as a Mother of four, I could not suspend Motherhood. While I kept tabs on my two grown sons, trying to reach out and offer comfort, I could not ignore the needs of my daughter. Katelyn (age 13 years old) needed her Mommy more than ever. After all, she too was suffering from the death of her big brother. My concern for my daughter, turned into obsession. At thirteen, she really is a very capable young lady. Yet, through my distorted haze of grief I became overly concern about her welfare. I was so full of anxiety that my shoulder muscles tensed, my heart race and I began perspiring profusely. Yuck, I was a dirty sweaty mess. I usually pride myself in my appearance, this in itself was upsetting to me, as a woman I tend to be a bit vain.

Back to the gas station, argument... Not Fight! It was one of those days when I didn't shower, eat or function. I honestly don't remember what I did that day until I looked at the clock. "Damn it!" I was late picking Katie up from school. She had forgotten her cell phone at home and the school's phone line rang busy. I had no way to reach her and tell her I was running late. Dread rang throughout my body. All sort of scenarios ran through my mind. What if she starts walking? What if she goes home with Zoey? Is she stressing about this? Under normal circumstances, Katie is more than competent, but in my bizarre confusion... I imagined her crying and upset... feeling lost and abandoned!

On the way to the school I realized I didn't even have enough gas fumes to make it down the road. I had to stop at the first gas station. Once, there I found lines 3 and 4 cars deep for every pump. "Oh, No... Katie! She needs me! I can't reach her!" I tried calling the school again, but I think they purposely take the phones off during dismissal. Anyway, I was working myself up to a full blown panic attack. My heart continue to race, I could barely breath, my hands were sweaty and most. I kept thinking, "My child needs me and I'm not there!"

I literally prayed for a pump to be available. Finally the old woman directly in front of my car finished pumping her gas, put the pump handle back and screwed her gas cap back into place. "Thank God!" I said to myself and I readied myself to pull up to the pump. I couldn't believe what happened next. With a gas station over run with motorist, she left her car to walk across the median to chat with another old woman. They casually laughed and talked while the second woman began to pump her gas.

This is what happened next:
1) I honked.
2) I was ignored.
3) I honked again.
4) The two ladies looked and laughed at me.
5) I honked again.
6) I was ignored, AGAIN!
7) I rolled down my window and said, "Please... I am in a hurry."
8) The 1st old lady reluctantly returned to her car.
9) I waited.
10) The old lady looked in her rear view mirror at me and laughed some more.
11) I honked.
12) She laughed, AGAIN.
13) I got out of the car. I knocked on her window and begged, "Please, I am very late getting my
daughter from school!"
14) I returned to my car to ready myself to pull up to the pump again.
15) She started putting on make-up.
16) I gasped in frustration and disbelief!
17) Another, pump opened up and I maneuvered over to it.
18) I ran into the gas station to 'prepay' for my gas.
19) The old woman was still sitting in her car, laughing at me... Not moving.
20) I took my car keys and threw them past her windshield. At least that's what I told the police.
21) Actually, they hit the top of her car and bounced off.
22) I saw her writing down my tag number.
23) I finished pumping my gas and left to get my daughter.
24) I began crying hysterically.
25) I couldn't believe how cruel the world was.

By the time I arrived at my daughter's school, I was a mess. Twenty-five minutes had passed and she was busy talking and laughing with friends. She didn't even seem to notice how late I was. Katie was fine. I however was inconsolable and frantic. I called Dr. Joe, and he tried to calm and console me. His priority was to get me off the road. I pulled into a park and Joe just let me 'Cry it out.' He made me promise never to drive when I felt this much anxiety, he said have a "Stay at home day!"

In the end, I created this crazed situation because of my irrational paranoia due to overwhelming grief. It just hit me all of a sudden. I made a bad situation worse. Within an hour of leaving the gas station, I received a phone call from the local police department. They were very alarmed because the old woman called and claimed that I beat on her window and tried to get into her car to harm her! I explained that, I was very emotional because of my son's death, but I assured them I made no attempt to enter her car or harm her in anyway. I even suggested they retrieve the gas station video, which would clearly show I never touch her door handle. I was informed that they had already been to my apartment, (while I was crying hysterically at the park). They told me that my apartment manager confirmed the death of my son and that they would not be pursuing this further. Whew!

In retrospect, even though anyone would have been upset by the encounter with this old woman, I allowed the situation to push me over the edge. Unfortunately, due to my grief and desperate state of mind, I was unreasonably concerned for my daughter's welfare and I took the rude old woman's actions, personally!

Can be reached at: dawnmariesaul@yahoo.com