Mother’s Day?

I am not a big fan of mother’s day… or father’s day… or any other day really devoted to celebrating what is essentially a label given to people who have given birth or created another human being.  It really isn’t that phenomenal to me.  Complete jackasses bring children into the world everyday and so many of them don’t even deserve the honor of being called mother or father.  I think fantastic mothers… fathers… grandparents… aunts… uncles…. etc should be honored every day in some way, not just some day set aside to sell some greeting cards and flowers.  If the same feelings aren’t there every other day…. then why is this one day anymore special?  It isn’t.

Not to mention it just feels like it alienates that certain population…  that population that could give two shits less if they are ever mothers or  fathers.  And that population who has ovaries that can’t get it together. Or sperm that don’t do their job. Heh.  It invokes that whole “Valentine’s Day if you’re single kinda feeling” but then again, that is what greeting card holidays are best at anyways.

The whole concept of mother is shaken up for me.

First off, earlier in the week I encountered a situation I was not expecting but had literally dreamed would happen.  A few months back I had a dream that my dad’s 2nd ex-wife… a woman who made my life miserable for a good portion of my teenage years died.  I woke up feeling slightly disturbed at myself due to my feelings in my dream.  I was…. relieved.  I felt like a bitch, but also sourta silently accepted that that is how I WOULD feel if it ever happened.

It did happen.  She had a massive heart attack and died.  And I was…. in all honesty…. just relieved… relieved that it was all finally over seeing her presence in this world still incited drama b/c my dad still fucked around with her.  Don’t get me wrong, I was not glad that she died.  I don’t wish or want people to die.  It’s too hard to really fully explain the relief.  I struggled internally with it for days.

Emotionally I have tried to forget the hell with her I lived in with a lived with my father as a teenager.  But it was constantly walking on egg shells.  Constantly dealing with having shit just put on me…. being the scape goat for all her issues.  And what sucked was that it was the best of 2 crappy situations.  Living with my mother was at that point, impossible.  Her coldness was impossible to live with and her husband waging war with me everyday was also not an option.

If you’ve never lived with somebody who is severely mentally “not right” it is quite the experience.  I think about the issues I’ve had with anxiety and depression and shit and then realize, that ain’t crazy.  Not like psycho crazy.  Psycho crazy is different.  It also didn’t help that she was a religious zealot.  Twice the crazy in one 300 lb package.  Add to that she was mentally stunted… like her mind seemed to be stuck at around 13 years old.  You have to know my dad to understand why he would marry *this*.  After my mother, he went for  things he can easily control, manipulate…. he basically went fishing at the bottom of the sea because it was the easiest catch.  His 3rd wife was a similar issue only she had intelligence which would probably explain why she left him.

The only reason this situation could even be considered a win is because, especially during the end of my stay there, I could escape.  My dad didn’t really give a shit what I was doing, and his place basically became a couch to sleep on.  Obviously at some point it still got to be too much, because I moved back in with my mom for about 6 months before I moved out of both places for good.

So when I had heard she was dead…. it was just over for me.  She wasn’t off pretending anymore that she hadn’t left scars on another person’s life.  In my mind… there’s some kind of karma to be paid for the hurt.  And it isn’t just about me.  It’s also what she did to my sister, my brother.  Everybody she was so nasty and hateful to.

The most surprising emotion was of course the anger.  I just felt intensely angry for a while and it will still show up in random moments if I hear the right thing.  I think the anger is mostly about the fact that I didn’t get to ever give her my 2 cents while she was alive.  Like.. she died without hearing what she needed to hear from me.  But 1) it wasn’t worth stirring the pot and 2) I don’t think she would have gotten it anyways…. or cared.  B/c she was psycho.  But there’s another part of me, that is not sure if that is even it.  I tried to investigate the anger a little more but I can’t find the exact true root of it.  I can’t say with 100% certainty that this one thing is what I’m angry about.  Maybe it is just more generalized.  I’m just angry.

So most of my teenage years… I had 2 concepts of “mother”.  Evil psycho witch and then of course we had my own mother whose coldness after she married her 2nd husband was enormously painful and after moving in with my dad, I didn’t see or speak to for a year and a half or longer even though she lived 3 miles down the damn road.

I did not see or call her this mother’s day.  I just sort of…. forgot.  Fed up.  Anger running through me.

Because see… shortly before I moved back in with her at 17 I slowly rekindled my relationship with her.  I started talking to her again and then slowly started visiting her again.  I slowly built back up my trust towards her again.  Her coldness had faded a little.  She seemed like she was willing to let me back in and I was willing to let her back in as well.  She later told me how heartbroken she was when I had moved in with my dad, even going as far as saying that it felt like I “betrayed” her (of course some of the blame had to be placed on me *snort*).  Funny that I still remember that night I told her I was moving in with him… she didn’t say a gawddamned word.  She sat there for a minute in silence and then got up and walked out of the room.

We got over that though… and my mom honestly became my friend.  There were brief reminders here and there of the past, but for the most part it worked and we built up a relationship.  I was getting ready to move in with my then-boyfriend now-husband and she honestly at the time seemed supportive.

When I moved to WI I swear to God she called the day after and told me if I wanted to come home she would come and get me right now.  I thought she was fucking crazy.  She had clearly thought that I had made a huge mistake.    And I suppose in part that is where our relationship went south… she started thinking once again that everything I did was wrong.

Moving back to IN… it was 2 yrs later.  Somehow 2 years was a lifetime in terms of rebuilding and destroying a relationship with my mother.  I, for one, still felt close to her.  I would call her and have her help me with decisions and it felt good.  But then slowly… talking to her started making me feel anxiety.  We started having dumb arguments, she would bring up religious crap, I would push her buttons because she was pushing mine.  I made the fatal, fatal, FATAL mistake of letting her into places she shouldn’t have been only because I had no where else to turn at the time.  It crashed.

I’ve tried.  I’ve tried so hard and I just… quit?  I’m done.  I feel done.  6 months or longer w/o a phone call.  I have to call.  She acts surprised, asks me why I don’t call more.  I ask her why she doesn’t call more.  Oh, so busy.  6 months too busy to call your kid?  Come to my city and don’t even visit?  That to me says you have absolutely no desire to maintain a relationship with me.  Congratulations, you’ve alienated your flesh and blood.  Yet, I feel like, she doesn’t care?  Don’t get it.  Frustrated, but tired of trying to get it.

It makes me angry.  It makes me…………  so deeply sad.  We could be friends.  More importantly, we could be mother and daughter.  But apparently, she’s too busy.


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