I haven't really blogged about this yet. The emotions are pretty intense and pretty deeply buried. I realized today that I needed to write about it to bring some of this up and deal with it.
My mom has finally crossed the final line for me and I'm at the point where I will no longer speak to her ever again, unless she heals one or two of her addictions. I'm not picky. It doesn't have to be all of them. Just one or two. I really hope that I can stick with this, because it's the right choice to make to protect myself from her selfishness, drama and destructiveness.
I have a lot of empathy for my mom who has had several strokes and brain aneurisms (sp?). She's very creative, but she's unable to hold down a job due to health reasons, so she's at home all the time with the television, catalogues and four yappy-ass dogs.
About a week ago I thought that she was over-dosing from an ingestion of oxycontin, tranquilizers, alcohol and probably other substances that I wasn't even aware of. I processed. I consulted with valued members of my family (thanks Richard and Robin). I talked with my mom and my stepfather. I finally realized that she was enjoying the drama of the situation more than she was in any real danger.
In her diatribe about how she had been abused her whole life, she started in on my dad and what an asshole he had been to her. This is one of the boundaries that I have established with her. In order to maintain any kind of relationship with this women we do not discuss the past and we do not discuss my father or his family, because she and I remember so much of what happened completely differently. We can never find middle ground. So, we just don't discuss it.. I not only called her on it, but I told her to get off her Pity Potty and quit being a victim. Weeeeell, that, in addition to telling her that she was killing herself, didn't go over well, needless to say.
The following day, she left me a couple of messages, the jist of which was that I was an ungrateful child, that she had done so much for me and it was never enough, I always wanted more and she hoped I wouldn't be so selfish as to keep the facts from my children, including how she wanted to be a grandmother to them but was prevented by my selfishness. She threw in my face the train tickets to Rhode Island. She threw my purse in my face. I love my purse. I didn't ask for it, but I love it.
And I just can't past this. I know that she equates love with money. I know this. I've known this for a long time. I know that I don't do enough to show my love to her by buying her things. I just can't wrap my heart around it. I can show love by doing things. I can show love by listening. I can show love by telling people. I can show love with hugs. I can show love with food. I can even show love by buying things for people sometimes, but it's usually something I see that just jumps out at me and I know is perfect for them, or a special surprise that I think will mean a lot to that person.
The things, the stuff, has never meant much to me. It would have meant so much more to me if she had just come to my high school graduation, my college graduation, my wedding, the birth of either of my children, any milestone in my life. Any ONE of them.
I accepted, with much reluctance, some things she wanted to buy me or do for me, because I knew that's how she showed her love. And I know that I failed to show my love for her. I failed her in so many ways, but she crossed the last line for me. I know this may seem silly. She's crossed so many lines. She's accused me of taking her prescription valium to hide her use. She's thrown me out of her house in the middle of the night in a snow storm. She's let me down in so many ways and this is just the final one.