My Life Story- the Reality to Emotional Abuse

The Final Chapter- The Aftermath

It's been months, and I have seen her and emailed her only once. I can say that I am finally starting to do better, but I think learning how to get out of survival mode is really hard. 

The last time I physically saw Angela was about a week before 2017 Thanksgiving. She made one comment to me. 

"So I see you're back in the state." 

"Yeah." (She has known for months that I was back home.) 

After that, she didn't look or speak to me the entire time I was at my aunt's house. I assume she is still a raging alcoholic, considering. 

I had emailed her a while ago, because my stepgrandmother keeps freaking out every few weeks, asking me if I plan to drop out of high school, even though I have told her almost a million times that I am in a program called Running Start, which means that I do half college classes at the community college and half high school classes at my high school.

Not sure she completely gets it, since she keeps fucking assuming I'm dropping out. 

So, naturally there's only one person who can be spreading this rumor, right?  I email her, asking her that if she is the one spreading the rumor that she can stop, and I explained that I am taking college classes now. 

Two sentences was all I got in response 

"Not my monkeys, not my circus. Keep me out of your drama."

I find it ironic that this is suddenly "my drama" when in all reality, she's the real problem... 

I take Psychology now, and we started talking about addiction.  Along with that, I had received a link from my mother's blog, "the Bipolar Rollercoaster" which was quite the interesting read, if I do say so myself. 

"Why, Felicity? Why is it such an interesting read?" 

Well, kiddos, that is what I was just about to get to. 

She openly admits that she was physically abusive for no reason, she is aware of her mental health rapidly deteriorating, and she is aware that her alcoholism is an issue.

 Huh, isn't that interesting? 

What's that, followers? You want a chance to read my mother's blog and see how truly bat shit she really is? 

Well isn't today your lucky day!! I have the link down below, right for you. I mean, it IS public for the ENTIRE world to see, so I am doing no wrong by including it in my own little blog :) 

To summarize, as much as I hate to admit this, I know my mother well enough to know that she is reading every little word I am typing, because one of my family members or a mutual friend we have is sending her every bit of information about me. 

So, my final message to my mother: 

You have fucking problems, Angela. You are aware that you have problems, but instead of going and getting help, you choose to drag and drown everyone in your misery. And for that, I pity you. I pity you for being so fake, two-faced, and probably the worst mother any child could ask for. You were right in one aspect: You should have aborted us. You never should have had children, and you should have never kept us. You are by far the most narcissistic, abusive, cancerous human being to walk this planet. You're literally no better than your own mother, you're almost exactly like her and that makes me sad. 

However. 

At the end of the day, you're still my mother. I beg you, Angela, get some fucking therapy, go back on your medication, and go to an AA meeting. Sober the fuck up, and for once, realize that it's not everyone else who is the problem, it's you. If you sober up, admit what you did to us, and actually tell the truth, then maybe we can reconcile. While I hope that you do these things, I feel that you won't. 

I have wondered for 18 years of my life what I did to make you hate me. Why you would say nasty things to me, hit me, scream at me, keep me up cleaning YOUR fucking house until 4 in the morning on school nights. But I had a minute, and some pretty damn good friends (thank you, Tim <3 ) and a long time to think about everything I wanted to say to you. I want to scream at you, tell you how much I fucking hate you, and how I feel nothing towards you.

Then again, this is where the good friends come in. He told me that I couldn't stay mad at you forever. And maybe he is right, maybe he isn't, I don't know. But I'm not writing this to tell you I forgive you, because there is not a single cell in my body that is capable of doing that right now. 

This is me thanking you. I thank you for being the worst mother alive. If it wasn't for me seeing right through all the bullshit you tell EVERYONE, I wouldn't have the drive I do now to shove how wrong you are about me right down your throat. My anger towards you is the only reason I am so successful right now. I mean, I'm finishing school, I'm doing well in college, and I have a job offer up working at the Microsoft campus, where they will pay me to live on campus for three months and help build technology you can only dream about. The campus is beautiful, by the way, and they really know how to spoil their employees. That mixed reality headsets that just came out? I beta tested those. I met the inventor of virtual reality, Mark Bolis, and I have to say he is one inspiring dude. A little on the crazy side, but absolutely, without a doubt, a fucking genius. 

Thank you, for teaching me that I don't need you. Thank you, for teaching me how to NOT parent. Thank you for teaching me that I have an addictive personality, just like you, which is why I monitor how often I drink just to make sure I don't become you.

Thank you for shaping me into the strong, truthful, inspiring person I am today, too bad you couldn't be the same. 

Deuces, motherfuckers. 

***** LINK ******

https://bipolar-roller-coaster.blogspot.com/