Today is the last day to join, so if you want in on it, be sure to read over the rules and PM Shakespearicles!and still more · 12:26am Jun 6th, 2016
more personal things after the break.
a fight. a blow out. quite unexpected. all because I had the nerve to voice my displeasure about something. I stated it in a way that I think was well within the bounds of respect, and yet my mother has a different view. she always has a different view.
I feel like my world has been cracked in two friends. and though my chest feels like it has a gaping hole in it. though I feel betrayed and angry and sad all at once, I have a strange kind of hope. a grim sort of satisfaction. I held my ground. I asserted myself. it's true that my therapist warned of pushing it considering I still have a ways to go in the confidence department, but through the hurt and the flurry of angry words, I could see a future: one without my mother. I used to panic at the idea of having to cut her out of my life. now I say with a dead sort of feeling that I think I could get by with almost no contact from her.
please. please understand that if you ever become a parent, loving your child is not constantly reminding them of the things you have done for them. there is no love in holding over their heads your acts of kindness, for they cease to be acts of kindness. they cease to be from a place of love. you are, in that moment, a creditor demanding what you consider your debt, and nothing can feel colder between a parent and a child.
worse to deal with is the hypocrisy. one moment I am being told that I shouldn't assume things from my mother's English, because Spanish was her first language, and so it is unfair for me to see things the way that I do. it's an old argument of hers. the fucking "language barrier". okay mom, sure. then later, I point out the horribleness of her trying to emotionally blackmail me by saying, "I could die tonight!" and she says, "well you should assume that what I meant was..." Ah! of course. I can assume things again now. my mistake. I suppose that was the language barrier at work, again?
she tells me she doesn't feel emotionally supported by me.
that she wishes she could talk to me.
that I don't appreciate the things she does for me.
funny. I feel those things, but in reverse.
I feel low. I couldn't write or give feedback or be cheery if I tried. It's almost a good thing my son fell asleep so early. he doesn't have to see me fighting off tears. i feel emotionally bankrupt. angry. sad. afraid.
I'm afraid. I feel afraid. like I made a mistake. but I'm telling myself I didn't make a mistake. my mother doesn't have the right to act like a bitch for no reason. just because she's old she thinks she has the right. just because she's my mother she thinks she has the right. just because she's done things to support me, she thinks she has the right. those things do not waive accountability. if you do something wrong, it's wrong. period.
I am promising myself I will not drink. drinking will only make it worse.
I am promising myself not to resort to self-harm. I always feel bad about the wounds later anyway.
I sure as hell will not kill myself. because SmallCaliber needs me, and my husband needs me, and fuck my mother too.
i am low. i am low. i am low.
and the world cracked and roared as the ghosts and the devils ran amok in nine's world...
I shall now attempt to inject levity.
I do apologize if my efforts just make you feel worse.
Oh... The emotional blackmail. I know that feeling all too well. It hurt. It hurt so much I fell into a suicidal depression. I couldn't tell her that, because she'd think I was just 'blaming' her for My own faults... and she'd just make me miserable. She's gotten better, but I still feel uncomfortable around her.
I deal with it by finding something I'm passionate about. I like to write to give myself to smile about. Watch some funny movies and listen to some heartfelt music. Even talking to my friends. Just to keep a smile on my face.
It's tough. It's really tough and sometimes I thought I wasn't going to make it, if it weren't for my little sister and my friends here in the brony community. So the only thing is that I wish to say is persevere and I wish you the best.
That absolutely sucks. I know that internet presence isn't much, but it sounds like you've made a few friends around here and other places. I hope I can be counted on as one of them. We can't replace what someone's stupidity has torn from you and her alike-- and to be honest, from what you said, a _lot_ of people's stupidity, tricking down hatefully, but that doesn't change what you have to deal with to be healthy-- but the idea that shared pain is lessened and shared joy increases isn't just a pithy statement made by a sci-fi author. It's greater than Robinson's work, has gone further, because it rings true: when you share joy, you lose nothing; when you let others help with pain, it's softened, spread over a network. Whatever we can do, I hope you'll find some help from us in that.
4001311
Levity successfully injected. That was a good laugh, thank you. (Oh Cartman, you lovable fat asshole.)
4001375
Right now the passionate thing I'm diving into is MLP. Because, of course.
(no really, it's making me feel kind of better. like a salve on a wound. kiddo woke up, so we're watching together.)
4001398
I do count you as a friend! You're a pretty swell guy, and I enjoy our talks. It was nice blogging and putting my emotions out there in a cathartic way, but it's even nicer when people show their support. I'm lucky to know you, and I appreciate you!
4001473 MLP has that affect.
It's one of, if not the, favorite shows and it helped me get through my depression. SO yeah, it is a good way to cope and smile.
The moment kindness is used as a tool to control and not a act of compassion is when one must decide if their love is also true. Yes a mother has a bond with her child,and a parent cares deeply for their offspring,But when the child acts the part the parent should be, everything else feels askew. Luckily all of my family speaks fluent English, so i can not fully "get" the LB, but I can understand it enough to know that by how you've phrased it she uses the language gap often as her crutch.
My father likes using his recently diagnosed Aspergers to brush off any snide remarks he says to me and my mother by telling us he doesn't understand what he did or said that hurt our feelings, but other times he'll say something you just kind of stare at someone else in shock from because of how rude it was, and he'll admit he did it as a joke. his humor is as dark as it comes, from other peoples mistakes.
The best thing i can say,but probably not the wisest is to make a list of all the good things she does do,and all the good things you do for her. it's important to do it in order. make them quick simple things, not a rant letter. if it takes your longer then a few minutes to think of anything good she's done, think of a good memory with her and you, and write all the good things you and her had. basically it is to reflect on what your mother means to you. if you tear at all, think think you should give her one more shot, if the exercise makes your more angry and bitter then reflective and somber. take a deep breath, and when your calm again make your decision.
To drink in the valley is like dying without the dignity of graves. Rise above. You have to, for your own sake. There is no solace in drink. If there were surely I would have found it, drunk 5 nights of 7 once I was, but there was nothing to find.
In the knife there's only a kind of sickness. In all of our pathetic escapes there is only shame and then regret. I know you know--these things make one smaller, weaker, slower, less human with time as more and more we shrink to fit in the bottle or onto the knife point or, for myself, into the dying cigarette embers.
Even when it is healthy--especially then--I'm not sure there is anything but sorrow in the immediacy of conflict. There is at most a rush, and then a trembling fear, and then a lasting injury, and the hope of something after. But there is certainly a time when it is vital to leave an allegiance in the dust.
Love does not mean control. It never will mean control. A love that will brooke no failure, that enforces its own fulfillment by force or guile, cannot be charity. Charity, caritas, Love that Is, is a thing sterner than affection and thinks ever of the Other. It's we who fail it, and not it that fails us.
And you cannot choose another's response to Being and to circumstance and that hurts. It hurts a lot.
I'm praying for you. I hope you don't mind, but I am compelled. It's how I know to meet life.
4001614
I definitely took a breather. Called someone and had a chat. Did therapy stuff.
I know that distance is needed between me and her. I've known that for a while. Just about everyone in my family seems to have figured that out before me. If I can reduce my interactions with her, I can at least improve my odds of ignoring her nonsense, but it's hard atm since me and my husband have this living arrangement with her. We're on our way out though... (hopefully soon.)
4001699
You can pray for me. I buy into that Japanese saying: There are many paths up the Mountain, but the view of the moon from the top is the same.