My Crazy Mother
Sunday, January 06, 2008
I've gone through so much emotional abuse from my mother in the past, and it hasn't really changed at all through time. I just went through another 'episode' with her and I want to document it here.
This is just one of countless frustrating interactions I have with my mother. I am constantly shown that she is not a functional human being-- she doesn't seem to live in reality.
My mother is shopping for a sweater for her mother (a nursing home patient with schizophrenia whom i've been alienated from by my own mother). She's looking online for a zip-up style sweater that will fit her-- she's a 2x. During her search she mentions something to the effect of "it's hard to find clothes for fatties". I, being the empowered fat woman I've blossomed into (hahaha), tell her not to use that word-- fatty-- that it's filled with negative connotations for me. She doesn't respond.
I ask her if she's listening to me. She makes an unrelated comment about the website. I ask her if she can hear me. She makes another comment about the website.
These types of things used to depress me. I am VERY happy to say I can now properly feel anger. So I got angry. A few minutes later, when she asked me a question about plus-size clothing, I responded that I wouldn't listen or respond to her until she gave me that basic respect.
As I wrote this, she asked me another question. When I didn't respond, she called me a "mo-ron" and, shortly thereafter, yelled that "YOU CAN'T FIND CLOTHES FOR FATTIES!!".
She completely ignores the important parts of life-- communication, relationships, respect... She is an serious alcoholic who spends all of her free time sedentary in front of her expensive television with her VERY expensive cable (all movie channels) and netflix subscription. It's an escape-- because she can't handle reality.
It seems impossible she can be ignorant of the sad state of her life, but it's interactions like the one above that show me she truly doesn't understand.
I'll just say it feels fantastic to be able to live through this BS and be angry, and not depressed. When I lived with my mother in high school, I would get depressed-- repeat mantras of self-hate, blockade myself in my room, and cry. My cat would scratch at the door to be let in and comfort me, believe it or not. She was the only respite from this adolescent hellhole. I look forward to the day I can take her and everything I own from this house and never look back.
For future breaks, I'm going to ask off-campus friends for places to stay so I don't get trapped here with her. It never turns out well.
Can you believe she pulls this "fatty" crap on me even after I lose 50 pounds? And it's not just indirectly-- she continues to tell me to lose weight... AS I DO AEROBICS VIDEOS IN FRONT OF HER. It's just insane!