Chapter 9 - The Social Media Offensive
If narcissists cannot control you, they will attempt to control how other people view you.
By Wednesday morning, my mother had realized that private appeals were dead. The cruise was gone; the refund was settled in my account; Diane had formally declined the Disney tickets and pulled her children from the trip, leaving Jessica with two non-refundable four-day park hoppers and no one to split the rental house in Kissimmee.
So, Carol went public.
She posted an essay on Facebook at 7:15 AM—prime time for the retired suburban crowd.
*“Heartbroken beyond words today,”* the post began, accompanied by a picture of a weeping angel statue. *“As parents, we spend our entire lives sacrificing for our children. We pour our sweat, our tears, and our financial resources into giving them every opportunity. To have that love thrown back in your face over a simple, innocent logistical misunderstanding is a pain only a mother can know. Some people value money and pride over family harmony. We are praying for healing, praying for forgiveness, and praying that our sweet grandchildren are protected from the bitterness and spite of adults who cannot see past their own egos. God is good, even when family fails you. #FamilyFirst #Heartbroken #Forgiveness.”*
The comments section was an immediate sewer of suburban sympathy.
*“Oh, Carol, I am so sorry! You are the best mother and grandmother in the world!”* wrote one of her church friends.
*“Family should never hold grudges! Sending prayers for your broken heart!”* chimed in another.
*“Some kids just don't appreciate what they had until it's gone,”* added a third.
Jessica had shared the post within three minutes, adding her own commentary: *“Preach, Mom. Some people would rather tear down an entire family’s happiness than admit they overreacted. We love you and Dad so much. Can’t wait for Orlando next week with the kids who actually appreciate you!”*
I sat at my desk at work, sipping a black coffee, reading every single comment.
My boss, an executive vice president named Marcus who had known me for six years and knew the nightmare dynamic of my family, walked into my office to drop off a contract file. He noticed the screen.
"Family drama?" he asked gently.
"My mother," I said, rotating the monitor slightly so he could see the weeping angel. "She’s running a smear campaign because I canceled a vacation."
Marcus skimmed the text, his eyebrows climbing toward his hairline. "Isn't this the woman who made you pay for your own wisdom teeth removal when you were nineteen while your sister got a nose job?"
"That’s her."
"What are you going to do?"
I smiled. It was the first real smile I had felt since Saturday morning.
"Nothing," I said. "I’m not going to argue with pigs in the mud, Marcus. It gets you dirty and the pigs like it."
"Then what's the play?"
May you like
"The play," I said, clicking the browser shut, "is to let them arrive in Orlando."
***
