Bright yellow ball in the sky; how I dislike you. I don't like sunshine, or warm weather, or birds waking me up in the morning, I hate the sound of silence, the presence of absence and too much touching. I feel so dark inside so very often. Peeling back the layers, I arrive at the only place I can, the core. At the center of it all there is this inescapable draining pit, called family. I don't mean my chosen family, my husband, son and kitty. I mean the pit of vipers I was born into. Mainly I mean my mother and the baggage that I bear simply because she had sex one night with someone she probably didn't even know. Apparently in my family "the sins of the father will be borne by the son" translates to "that bastard child from that drug addicted whore".
Little gems, the typo said germs, I probably should have gone with that! I digress... Little gems from mother followed me around from late 85 to the present. Gems that remind me how wrong, uncoordinated, graceless and basically disposable I was. I am no longer disposable. I am no longer stupid, insignificant, wrong or a fat lazy cow. I am uncoordinated. I broke my neck, how coordinated should I be? I am also still graceless in movement, but I've never been graceless where it counts. My mother is an abject idiot.
My estranged half sister can join that old ignorant battle axe and gird themselves in stupidity and conjured ideas of who and what I should be. I shouldn't be anything but me.
Yet somehow I struggle daily with rectifying who I am with who I should be. I fight this inner negative monologue which somehow turns into an emotional tape recording of my failings etched inside me. Another gift from mother and ex-sister. I need to get them out of my headspace.
A brand new day is one of the most depressing things I deal with. I love my family, I'm not suicidal at all, but a new day depresses the hell out of me because I have no idea what to do with it, no drive and no desires. I just want things to stay as they are. Very unBuddha like of me, I know, but he was kind of a jerk until he sat under that tree and became kind of an idiot in my opinion. He's like the ultimate pessimist but no one says that. Who sits in fear of change under a tree hoping for answers? Somehow it worked for Siddhartha .
I am not Buddha and never will be. I like my attachments. I can bear the pain because I have the love preceding the pain. What I can't bear is constant rejection. Society tells me I have to love these horrible women. People tell me I will regret this and miss them when they are gone. They have been gone from my life for most of it. The only thing I will lament when they die is the loss of the potential relationship with them. They give not one fuck, zero fucks are given about who I am, how I am, what I am and how I feel. Why in hell would I miss that? That would be like an abused wife missing the abusive husband. What kind of mental illness do people expect me to have? Why should I slit my wrists and bleed family for two people who don't even understand the concept? Why should I care about anything they say or do? Why? Why do I even bother? There must be something inately wrong with me that I can't let this go. They take up so much head space. I have not spoken to my estranged half sister since 2015 (it is 2018 now). She crossed a line, she attacked my parenting, she put my son in jeopardy. My deranged mother supported it and I can't handle a woman who spent approximately 2 years "parenting" a 15 year old girl. I met my useless half sister when I was 17 and it was hammered into my soul that I was nothing compared to her. I lived to serve her, I lived to give my things to that horrible bitch because she didn't have them. That horrible bitch had what I didn't have and what no one could ever give me. She was rich beyond my wildest dreams. She had a mother who didn't abandon her (at least until she was six) she had a father, she had both Grandparents, she had many aunts, uncles, cousins, extended family and this whole support network. I had a mother who dumped me before I was one, tried to abort me, tried to give me to an uncle, some strangers, and another set of strangers. She didn't even want to hold or see me after I was born, I had two dead adoptive parents (my Grandparents) and 3 uncles who didn't like me because she was my mother and they hated her. I have lots of abandonment issues. I am broken and I know it. I am trying to repair myself as best I can. It's hard. That negative thinking just keeps coming back. I try so hard to get in front of it, to get away from it, to live in the here and now. Mother just keeps texting me, taking everyting I say the wrong way, misremembering important details and making me question my sanity. I often have to reach out to old friends who know her just to make sure I am remembering correctly.
I put up with her bullshit because I hate the thought of her being alone, never seeing her grandson, my son. She's spent so much time with the bitch's children, but very little with mine. Her dislike of me is quite obvious. I can't do to her what was done to Mama. I can't just let her stay locked in solitude with no grandchild contact. I watched Mama's pain for a decade and I am not capable of doing that to anyone, I don't think.
And I didn't think I could do that, but it appears after a recent happening. I can and I will. I am promising myself in 2018 that it is over. I am done. I've asked my son if he will continue to seek a relationship with her after I dissolve mine with her. I can not take her comments about my Mama anymore. I no longer care about mother's feelings because she doesn't care about mine. I asked some true friends who knew me, Mama and met my birth mother their opinion. I asked for prayer and wisdom. I laid out things I never wanted any of them to know. Only my husband and one friend, possibly two knew what she did. Now 9 of them know. All 9 gave me the same advice. It's ok to pray for her, it's ok to forgive her, but it's not ok to allow her to hurt me. God doesn't want me to be hurt constantly.
My oldest friend laid it bare to the bone and hit the nail on the head. It's not a parent child relationship, it's a jealous sibling hating me for who I am, for what I was to Mama and for what Mama did for me. What brought this on was me honoring Mama over social media on what would have been her 103 birthday. Birth mother didn't even bother to like the post. She called me to tear Mama down, to remind me how she "hurt" birth mother. After much consternation, and discussion, it rings false for everyone. My mother is a grade A liar. For years she's fake teared up talking about Mama, kissing her ugly hateful fingers up to God when she talks about her, then crying her crocodile tears over something that she tells over and over, yet it never changes. All memories change in fractions of ways when accessed. It's simply the way the brain is organized. I learned that in a basic Psychology class as did my son. What never changes are rehearsed lies. She's putting on a "poor me" performance and has been for almost 33 years. I am done. I will not have the only woman who ever was my Mother torn apart. I am ashamed it has taken me this long to come to this conclusion and this long to open up to my true family, the people who grew up with me, the people who loved me, the people who supported me when Mama died. I am ashamed I ever allowed that woman to break me. I am ashamed that I dishonored Mama and Daddy by allowing her to worm her way into my brain and poison me based on her own hate. That woman has no love for anyone but herself and my estranged half sister, who can also go piss up a rope. I am done. My family is the family God surrounded me with, the family I was too ignorant to see and accept.
