What a Mother is....

My mother just left yet another message I have yet to return. It is so difficult. I often think of calling to let her know I do not hate her but I cannot live with the toxic side of being in her life but I cannot. As soon as I start talking to her the vicious cycle starts all over again. She will refuse to admit she chose her girlfriends over me. Refuse to accept responsibility for the insanity that was my youth. If she could just admit it was her choices and not that of the current flavor of her life maybe things could begin to heal. As soon as we begin talking again she not only brings up past wounds but then wants to rub salt in the wounds by passive aggressively blaming everything from the religion I was raised in (different nightmare for another day) to my grandparents to her exes.

Of all that I endured from her the only lesson she ever taught was how not to parent. That and to read to my son every night. She did do that once and awhile. Because of that I have read to my son every night, no matter what, until he could read on his own. Now he brings books like Java, and Macromedia manuals to bed before he sleeps. I have so tried to be the bigger person and call but I cannot. It has gotten me so desperate to leave that hurt and pain behind that I do not even talk to my family. I have been told more than once that I am just a niece and she is their sister. I am wrong for hurting her by not talking to her. I had one aunt yell at me over my Grandfathers death bed because my mother cried to her that I am not speaking to her. These are the same relatives I begged to live with when I was young. Begged because my mother was insane, in a cult and constantly left me with evil people of the religion so she could lust after someone new. I begged these people when her girlfriend hit me over the head with a cast iron frying pan and I told my mother I couldn't live like that. Either she left or I would. My mother told me, a daughter of 15, to have a nice life, so I moved. It took 3 years and the girlfriend being gone before my mother would speak to me. And who's fault was it? You guessed it, the girlfriends.

Still I weep for the mother I never had. The father I never knew and the Grandmother I have not seen because it hurts. I just want to have 15 minutes of a normal childhood. The things most people take for granted. Now I have a son I adore and a husband who is so good to me. The last thing I want is for that to be destroyed by the chaos that would begin if she were in my life.

I feel so horrible about not talking to her. The thought of hurting someone else tears me apart but the peace I feel is good. It only comes to surface when she calls. My father said I should make peace or I will regret it when she's dead. He is the last person I expected to say that about her but that is the type of person he is. It's always so hard.