Five steps forward; two steps back. How quickly things change. We've been on the right path for a while now, and the last 6 months have been particularly good.  

SS and I got along when he was a teenager. He had his issues, but he wasn't going along with the PAS program the way his sister was, and he'd apologize when his behavior occasionally slipped into the "us vs. them" BM rule. He had even told me at one point that he felt his sister's behavior was extremely unhealthy. We know he had some issues with his mother. 

It all changed about 7 years into our marriage after BM basically threatened the skids with losing her life (it's a long and very revealing story that I can't share here--but, I have to admit, it was very cruel and very genius, because it worked). SS became a fullblown prick. DH took him on two all-expenses-paid vacations, and SS for the most part ignored DH. He'd use a nasty tone when talking to DH and pretty much cut off from me. His (rare) visits to our home were not pleasant ones--except for one, when both DH and I had very open conversations with him. But it was after that visit when SS went more dark than ever before. Looking back, it was a pattern with the skids: they would see us, then they'd go home to BM and I suspect they were "deprogrammed." I used to say she probably put them in a dark room with a lightbulb hanging over their heads. All the while, even when things were at the best point with SS, he was still constantly posting "mommy and me" cheek-to-cheek photos and Mommy Worship posts on social media (well into his 30s). The whole thing was weird. 

His last 2 - 3 visits to our home have been unbearable. He is overtly rude to me and acts like a lazy using mooching ground sloth who wants money thrown at him. He is arrogant and, honestly, a very unlikable person. I think out in the world, most people see him as . . . a prick. 

I have happily disengaged. AND THEN. SS went on a spiritual/awakening retreat (he has not jumped on the fanatical evangelical wagon that BM and SD are on. . . this was different). He calls DH yesterday and is apparently gushing about this experience. DH says hold on, let Mia hear about this (not so illogically thinking I'd be interested) and puts SS on speaker. SS sounds . . . overwhelmed, somewhat emotional, "cleansed," YET, in his voice, there is still this distance and, in the 5 minutes I was present for the conversation, he still (still, still, still, still) brought up his MOTHER (this is like a neverending compulsion with both skids). 

After the call, DH said he felt "antsy," and he was going on and on about how great this sounded for SS. I saw it: DH is thinking SS is cured from prickdom. DH seems relieved that his son is cured from being an ahole. It's a freaking MIRACLE! I reminded DH, "You'll need to see how this goes. He is just coming off of this 'high' and will be reentering real life in the coming days." 

My mood immediately plummeted watching DH fall down the BS hole of hope again (hopium?). I was even angry at myself for engaging in a piece of the conversation, as I told myself I was totally disengaged. I was mad at myself for the sliver of hope I, too, felt, that perhaps SS might be finding his way back to who he was so many years ago. Yet I heard it in his voice--the distance from me, the dislike. When I was present, he was talking to a stranger. And then the neverending sick compulsion to always insert his mother into any and every conversation in my presence. 

This morning, I woke up feeling down. DH is in a bad mood (why wouldn't he be in a good mood if he believes all is wonderful?). He's now, as we speak, scrolling through pictures of the grands. 

I have not mastered disengaging emotionally or not having skid shenanigans impact me or our homelife. I haven't gotten to that point of observing with disengagment. It's times like these that I want to warn everyone not to ever get involved in these situations. Although DH and I are not tortured on a daily basis, we do not have troubled skids living with us, and we live states away from the skids, this freaking dark effing cloud floats over and into our lives every so often, and, I believe, will forever. My tolerance is so low that even one conversation, one day, one mood feels like too much after all these years. I feel like DH brought a shopping cart full of baggage (like you see on the streets) into our relationship, a shopping cart covered with a blanket until we got married, and, however light the cart has gotten through the years, it is still there. He is still lugging it around.  

When someone shows you who they are, believe them.   I need that tattooed on my forehead.