I hate my parents...particularly my mother. I know it's not a kind thing to say, but there is an extreme amount of hurtful memories and current history behind those words. sigh...
Friday was a horrible day to say the least and to spare details and tears, it ended with my mother yelling for me to say out of her life and home. I am to never darken her doorstep again. And in return I yelled horrible obscenities at her. What's worse than the fact that it happened is that it always happens. The turmoil between us never goes away. Something I've done along my life...perhaps it's alot of somethings...has caused her to hate me. And before you give me a large fresh steaming pile of horseshit like, "Oh, she's your mother. She doesn't hate you." Let me just stop you there. I don't want to hear it. I really don't.
I regularly talk myself out of my anger towards her. I feel guilty for my resentment and pain and indifference and full-blown hate. I internalize all that has happened in the 31 years of my existence with her and say it's my fault. But it's not all my fault. I'm tired of being this woman's child. I'm tired of her being my mother. I'm tired of being that abortion that lived.
See, that's what I think my problem is sometimes. I've become so obsessed with not fitting in. Feeling like I should not even be alive that I fight with myself. I get angry for enjoying the world. I get angry for having this body, these emotions, this brain...this uniqueness that makes me, me. I hear every day those stinging comments from my mother of how inadequate I am. How ugly, selfish, unforgiving, moody, lazy I am. In my mind, I hear insults in her voice. I've allowed her to dominate my essence. And I hate her. I hate me.
As a child, I grew up with her putting unrealistic demands on me. I had to be perfect in behavior, manners, body, school, sibling responsibility, etc etc etc. And when I failed even slightly, I was punished. Yelled at about how lazy I was, how fat I was, how the A wasn't an A+, how I didn't say 'good morning' to someone at the door. And after the yelling, she'd beat the crap out of me. Then to drive the dagger deeper into my heart, she'd call my father at work to tell him how Satan-like I was being. Only hours between one punishment before the next would begin.
I got in trouble for everything. Going outside to play, I got in trouble for being away from home too much. Staying inside to read a book, I got in trouble for being lazy and never going outside. I was punished for my siblings' wrong-doings because I was the oldest and failed to set a good example. I was once severly reprimanded because my mother overheard a conversation I was having with a friend from school. After he had gone home, she told me that I was using words that probably made him feel stupid; that I was trying to make him feel bad by talking better than him and trying to be better than him.
There has never been any good reason for her hating me. I think perhaps because I was the product of a relationship that turned out different than she wanted. She reminded me daily that I was Gerry's daughter, a man that was fat and moody, that drank and ate too much, that cheated on her. She would literally spit when she talked about him. And at the end of her rant about him she would say, "And you're just like him!"
I know this was the past. I should let it go. I'm trying. But what about the daily reminders that I'm a failure and fuck-up now? How she had to rescue me from being homeless though the reason my daughter and I lived in a homeless shelter was because of a domestic situation that ended with police, her arrest, and a state case against her. Or how about when I go on about a guy I'm interested in or is just talking to as a friend and she blurts out, "Does he know what you look like?" Or something simple like wearing my hair done brings about a 5-10 minute rant about how I'd look better if I'd take care of my hair or wear it up.
If I don't call her, it's because I don't love her. If I call her, I'm bothering her. If I open my mouth, I talk to much. If I have no money, it must be because I've just bought a yacht or something extravagant. I won't even go into my bipolar issues. The ridicule I get from her makes me feel guilty for having an illness I struggle every day to maintain control.
I hate her. I allow myself to be influenced by her and her vengeful, controlling view of the world. I try to separate myself from her life but it's so very difficult. How do remove the one person in your life that is supposed to love you unconditionally?! If anyone is supposed to love you, faults and all, it's supposed to be your mother, right?! I keep thinking that and feel so guilty for wanting to run from her.
I carry every day one thing that she said to me once. She only had to say it once to have a profound effect on me. One day she was in her bedroom, making the bed. She called me for some reason. I don't know what I was doing or what I had done. But I remember she started to yell and scream horrible insults at me as she usually did. But then she said it. The one thing I carry. To the effect, "The only reason I didn't have an abortion is because I'm Catholic." I was in elementary school...about my daughter's age.
I don't want to hate her. I don't want to exclude her from life. But I can't have her the way I envision a mother should be. I'm not asking for Donna Reed or Carolyn Brady. I'm asking for a person that says, "Hey, I made mistakes. I'll accept the responsibility for my actions. I know I have a lot of trust to earn. But can we try?" I'd settle for a mother who wants me alive instead of mocks me for wishing for death.
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