The moment I gave up on loving my Mother came when I was 31 years old. I haven't gone too far into the history just yet, so I will fill in bits and pieces in each post, and post longer details in other posts....I apologize in advance for repeated information.
SO, what happened that made me finally realize she would never love me, never stop punishing me for past mistakes, (or things she perceived as mistakes), and she would always find something else to be mad about. ALWAYS. A quick background; after separating from my husband and moving back in with my parents with my child, we stayed in this town that is the exact opposite of everything that brings me joy in life. I was under the assumption that it was just temporary and I was grateful for a roof over my child's head. It was impossible to find decent employment and anytime I even broached the subject of going to the city to be able to make a decent living, or go where I wanted, it would set off a tirade about how it was dangerous and she wouldn't have me or her grandchild living that far from her....it was a nightmare. They live in the middle of nowhere.....no kidding, we had to put in the pipes for running water and a drive way....but, "Hey, it was a great deal." Going out there to this day, makes my skin crawl. I digress.
I had gone back to school after being dumped by yet another 3 month relationship (we'll talk about sabotage later), and being fired from a feed store because my child had gotten sick and I had no one else to pick him up. They had been looking for a reason to fire me anyway because they considered me a Yankee. I was able to go back to school via Pell grant and had gotten all of my supplies, everything was taken care of. There was quite a bit left over and I decided I wanted to get myself an early Birthday present, also for starting a new life. I wanted some new ink and I had been showing her some designs I wanted to get and where I wanted to get them....for a few weeks as a matter of fact. She seem to really like what I had come up with....so the day came and since she had hidden my money from me, for "safe keeping" of course, my Father went in and got it for me....she happened to be in a drug induced sleep at this point. I went and got my tattoos, I was overjoyed with them, the girls did a fantastic job and they weren't expensive...double score! I could feel it in my bones on the way back to the house that something was wrong. Sure enough, I got back, showed them to my Father, he liked them.....then I was summoned to her bedroom. I was still trying to convince myself that my fear was unfounded, I excitedly showed her where the artist had changed up part of my design and how much better it looked.
That's when she attacked. Accused me of sneaking off while she was asleep and doing it behind her back, I would never get a job now, (they are on my wrists), I looked like a biker bitch, she's never been so ashamed of me in her entire life, how could I do that to her. I was at a loss for words, as we are often when the Narc decides to flip out after lulling you into a false sense of security. I will quote parts of my journal.....
4/9/05
"I went and got tattoos on Friday, been telling everyone I was gonna do it for at least two weeks. Mom said whatever but as usual changed her mind AFTER it was done! Now I'm disowned once again, so much for her saying nothing short of murder. She's such a liar, her love is so conditional. I can't wait until I graduate and get the hell away from her. I feel really bad for Dad because she lashed out at him for what I did. I think she forgets who takes care of her when she's sick. She can get her own damn candy from now on! Let her go into a diabetic coma again, see if I fucking care. I'm done with her, she's threatened me for the last time. I'm 31 and I'll do whatever I please with MY body!! I know why she's doing this, the week of rest that the Dr. put her on is almost up and she still doesn't want to have to do anything, or she's trying to make her self sicker. I thought about it, I've had a sick Mom since I was a kid. I'm tired of it and then her blaming me for it."
I will continue that entry in a second post, partially because it's long and secondly, I'd like to point out how I was still duped by and defending my Father, the enabler. At that point, I thought he was just as much of a victim as I was. We were in it together against the monster.....only later did I realize that it was him feeding me to her. Almost every single time he was supposed to be "having a talk," with me, he would say, "I know she's wrong and she really has no right to be mad, but you know how your Mother is. Just go and apologize, she'll calm down in a few days. You and I know you didn't do anything wrong." But to keep the peace, I had to take it. I had to protect him from being yelled at, I had to protect my child.....who the fuck was protecting me?
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