It is a fragile time. I normally get riled up even without hormonal help. I have always had a tendency to blow up at random things. And my mouth is strictly, shoot first ask questions later. I have always tried to mask my foot in mouth disorder with the guise of brutal honesty. I also mask any possible anxiety and misgivings with my firm no regret policy. Both of these avoidance tactics have served me well for the past umpteen years. And although many people with over priced collegiate degrees would disagree with my methods, my results help me sleep better at night and keep me from physically harming myself or others. With that in mind I plan to keep those methods in place into the foreseeable future.
If I were a weaker person I probably would not have survived this long under the stress of the past few years. I accredit my Husband with an amazing talent of keeping me calm and focused. I try not to use him as an emotional crutch. But when I was kicking my anxiety and depression meds (of which I was way too medicated), he stood by me and became a buffer for my down right emotionally controlling and manipulative Mother. This isn't the part where I make myself out to be a martyr or a victim. It is important for everyone to know that I have a healthy amount of respect and love for my Mother, my problem with her is that she is unwilling to admit any wrong doing or lower herself in thinking she might be just as flawed as the rest of us humans.
Having a daughter of my own has realigned and made me evaluate all the things I think my Mother did wrong. And I know that I can correct my patterns of behavior so she can grow up to be an emotionally healthy person. The biggest mistake my Mother made in my upbringing was trying to raise me in her shadow. Not in her image, since I was always free to be myself. But my Mother always portrayed herself as the "Queen" of everything she touched, whether it was Center Stage Community Theater, Neighborhood Housing, sales, politics or animals. She ruled it all. She is extremely charismatic in her causes. And somewhere in the past few years she lost her spark to champion all of those causes. I feel so incredibly angry that she has given up on the things she used to hold so dear.
It may sound crazy but the timing of her spark loss coincides with when my Husband and I got engaged. My relationship with my Mother was deeply fractured, I think she felt her control finally slipping. And she focused more on losing a daughter, than gaining a son. It may have started sooner, but I cannot help but feel a pang of guilt for possibly hindering rather than helping. I do not think her pride has ever recovered, or our relationship. And both her actions and inaction since have done nothing to endear her to me either. Even as I write this, though, I feel like I am kicking her when she is down. But my foot in mouth and my own pride does not stop me from voicing my displeasure in the emotional loss of my Mother.
In some ways I had hoped that distance would help us establish boundaries and eventually help bridge the chasm between us. At this point I could be on the moon eating cheese and she would probably continue to limply wave her halfhearted olive branch. But I have no intention of grasping any branch she extends, since deep down I feel that she is attempting to atone for a guilt she cannot outwardly admit. What would get me to accept? I have been mulling that same question around for months now. And I am no closer to an answer than Lindsey Lohan is to sobriety. In fact I doubt entirely that I will ever allow her in our lives.
Matt and I decided that distance and time have done nothing to help my Mother see the errors in her judgement. She still believes what she believes (that I have postpartum depression and that's why I am such a bitch) and it is not my problem anymore. So we will have no further contact with her from this point on. Anything sent will be sent back from here on out. But I still have to work on blog closure..
For me it is hard to think, let alone accept, that my Mother is getting older. And that she might not be around in the years to come. And having watched the slow deterioration that was the past 20 years of my Grandmother's life, I just pray that my Mother isn't going down that road. Granted she is moderately active and doesn't smoke. But she does drink, and I firmly believe that it is too much. But people have said the same about me, so pot meet kettle.
It would break my heart to see my Mother living like my Gramsbear. If you can call being bed ridden and sleeping most the day and watching the TV with no sound living. I imagine I would also be extremely angry with her. And if I am having these feelings towards my Mother, I can honestly say she probably felt them towards Grams. If I had to speculate I think it was likely why she became so distant, or why anyone with a dying loved one would push away. I can only hope she can get past her feelings and live her life instead of locking herself away with her vices like Grams did. And I hope that years down the road I don't try and do the same with video games..although at least I would be doing something.
My biggest problem with everything that happened was that I was made public enemy number one, in the most passive aggressive ways possible. And also felt that I was the last person to know it. If anyone had a problem with something I have always said for them to just say shit to my face, or fuck, at least send me an email or facebook message for shitssake. And I continue to hear about who-said-what about me. I am over this shit. Why can't everyone else move on?
Obviously I like to be an open book. But after this blog post I will not be mentioning anything further about things of these nature. I know discussing such intensely personal things doesn't exactly make my family any happier with me, and I am in no way stopping blogging, I am just NOT blogging about estranged family. If I don't bitch, I blow up. It is very hard to be and remain objective looking at things in your own life, and I am trying. I will be living my life with Matt and Lily and forging ahead happily.
