Under Pressure.

I’m my own harshest critic, and that can be a gift and a curse. As I sit here listening to the sublimity of the birds chirping and as the majestic views of the cotton candy skies setting come to my attention for the first time this year, I just sit back and I am grateful. 

I had my first therapy session since putting it on hold to take part in this writing challenge, and it was amazing. We talked about why I always have to be the adult in the relationship with my mother. Is it really my responsibility to continually put forth the efforts to keep her in my life and mend our relationship from how I was treated as a child and beyond just because I understand the fact that humanity involves working on yourself to become the best you possible? Or, because I understand empathy and forgiveness and at almost sixty, she is the emotional child in our relationship?  

I made a decision to go over and visit her for Christmas and hang out with her and her husband. They invite me every year, but every year I decline. Well, this year I fucked up. I accepted the invitation. There were periods of awkward silence and when we both started talking about childhood trauma, she spouted hers off like a badge of honor that her parents were fucked up and that’s why she doesn’t understand how to function as a normal human being. I tried to be as kind as possible, explaining things that her and my father could have done better (which was everything), but I didn’t say that, I was respectful.

It is utterly exhausting having to deal with the trauma caused by a parent and then have them be practically oblivious to the harm they caused. So much so that I haven’t reached out since, although I think about her and why she hasn’t reached out either.

Tomorrow I’m going to make the call, because as I spoke in one of my other musings, Life is too short to ask the questions, or get to the bottom of things you want resolved. So, no matter the outcome (I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish that she spouts off to my last nerve and this ends our correspondence for good). 

Being an adult in these situations is tough because I’m just learning how to become a functioning one myself. But I’ve come too far to let this hang over my head and derail MY PROGRESS. I have no Ill will or anger towards her or my father who was equally as inept as a parent, I just want a return on my investment. Something you would think a parent would have wanted from the beginning, but hey, It’s not my mom’s fault she was a horrible mother, it was her horrible moms fault that she was a horrible mother. Make sense? Yeah, not to me either. No the concept of what i just explained the sentence before. That makes the world of sense. Not wanting to break the cycle and be the best mom you could be regardless of circumstances is the part I’ll never understand. From Donna or Bill. I should ground both of their asses, and who knows, tomorrow, I just might because I’m overbooked, no emotional vacancy. Plus, I don’t have the energy it takes for these relationships. 

One Love.


6 thoughts on “Under Pressure.

  1. Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think. Maybe it will. I often have to hype myself up before calling my mom too. And I found the calls got a lot easier when I decided to simply let her win the “whose life is hardest” contest she’s been running in her head forever.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. You didn’t come this far to only come this far. Keep being a forgiving human being, but not a doormat. Have boundaries. I think it’s human nature to always care about them, but don’t let them derail all the progress you’ve made.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. I wrote a lengthy comment here last night but think Word Press didn’t like a word I dropped. Here’s the condensed version: The only person you can control is yourself. You’ll likely never be able to get your parents to acknowledge their faults. Sometimes you have to cut ties when the abuse starts until they get the point. It’s hard but necessary. Good luck.

    Liked by 2 people

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Create your website with WordPress.com
Get started
%d bloggers like this: