The reality is that life is messy. We don’t always get what we want. My mother didn’t teach me how to be expressive, how to communicate my wants and needs, because my mother isn’t capable of communicating her wants or needs. Thankfully I’ve grown past that and figured out that communication is completely essential to healthy relationships. Had I not figured that out, I would be in a far worse place.

Still, though, I can’t say I’m in the best of places. I do lament that my mother is narcissistic and combative, I resent that she can’t tell me why she’s awful to me. I also have to accept that there’s nothing I can do about it and her issues are not workable in my life. She’s obviously never going to therapy for whatever the hell she has going on, and I really don’t think she gives enough of a shit to consider it for a passing second. So I get to reflect on this and simply accept it for what it is. Still, it doesn’t feel great to know that you were born with a parent that has so many conditions on their love that you wouldn’t be able to keep it without living a waking nightmare like my sister. My sister’s existence is pure apathy, it’s so fucking sad. I’ve aluded to it in a previous post, but she essentially had her child with a guy who gives zero fucks that she exists. I guess the guy sleeps on his phone so my sister can’t see who he’s texting. The dude wants to make my sister pay for the electric bill any time she and HIS OWN CHILD are in his apartment AND this lazy piece of shit pays zero child support, doesn’t help with his kid at all, and barely sees her. But my sister is fighting for this guy, for whatever reason. It’s exactly what my mom wanted: a person who is ripe for bullying. My mother is basically a bully, plain and simple. She uses my family against me by doing whatever she can to make sure I’m not welcome anywhere she goes. It’s disgusting, really.

Well, whatever. I just needed to put it out there. I’m not sure I feel better having put it out there, but I do feel better knowing I don’t have to carry it silently. I don’t miss my mother, I lament the one I was cursed with. Welp. There you have it, folks. Twenty five years of trauma just dumped all over the place. Enjoy.