Mother

I had dinner last night with one of my close women friends. We got to talking about some things, and I realized I have to process all this shit I have about my mother.

Before I write more here, I will say I do actually love my mom, things are a little better now, and that I never felt like she didn't love me, but... What I'm about to write is just a vent, a rant, a spew, not a psychoanalysis of her or myself. There won't be anything intelligent or 'pc' about this. I just need to let the poison out, know that somebody somewhere might have read all this and heard it, and I need to let that pit of slime and hate in my guts out, so I can move on. It is an act of magick for me, to let this out.

I think I have only recently come to the realization that I am not a victim, too, even to of any of this. It just needs out of me.

My mother is still alive, she is 58, going on 88. I have other 58 year old friends that are SO much more alive and sane and fun than she is.
She is unemployed, and has always had shitty minimum wage jobs, sponging off the people in her life, including my father, who she stole all his life possessions and house off, when he finally found the courage to divorce her fat hairy ass. Mainly because she's too fucking stupid and never learned how to take care of herself. I always had to take care of her. Can you imagine, a 3 year old child finding her way across town by bus, with a 23 year old mother in tow, asking her kid for help? Yes. She is fucking PATHETIC. Worse, she is damaged goods.

She is also the total master of emotional manipulation. The hands down queen of guilt trippers. "Please feel sorry for me". No. I. Fucking. Don't. Not now, not ever. A total abuser. Let's abuse everybody else, because life has done me so very wrong. No, fuck you! Enough, bitch! Grow up.

My mother is also completely insane. I mean fucking certifiable. Split personality. I know, we can probably all say that about our mothers, and probably all be justified. But I do think that really, mine would have been better off being looked after in some nice safe home somewhere, on meds for paranoia, rather than trying to raise a fucking child and be a wife. She claims to be some kind of psychic, but I think she's deranged and delusional, with split personality disorder. She literally would change character in a second, it used to scare the shit out of me when I was a kid, it was like she was possessed. Imagine if Linda Blair was your mom. Only nobody else ever saw it or believed you when you told them. She was very good at hiding all that shit when she needed to, and nobody ever saw what she did with me. Except my dad, and he was too much of a pussy to stop her. That's how it was.

The catalog of heinous injustices against (thankfully) her only offspring, is a long one.

My early life was as far as I remember, has never been free of the idea that I was a 'mistake'. I mean, what kind of warped fuck-up tells their small kid that? So I have lived all my life with that knowledge, the shame, guilt, sadness, etc. She even told me that my grandfather offered her $200 to have an abortion. She was too interested in trapping my poor father into a loveless and desperate marriage to go that route. She was at least smart enough to see the goose for the egg, and take the goose. She has been stealing the golden eggs ever since.

In short, my mother is a psychic vampire, and has spent a life draining the energy out of her family and friends.

I have an intense and visceral physical dislike of her, she is fat, ugly, hairy, has bad breath, and she squints, she has round shoulders, and an annoying voice. She looks like Susan Boyle, pre-makeover. You'd laugh if you saw her, she really does make Susan Boyle look hot. She makes me fucking wince. I can't stand to look at her. I am glad beyond words that she lives over 5,000 miles away from me, and has to take a plane to get here. She disgusts me. Her teeth squeak when she eats. She hiccups and belches, and it makes me gag. I have photos on my fridge of all my loved ones, but not her, I can't stand the sight of her.

I think that's even possibly why I have such a negative image of my own body, because of my disgust with hers! I see myself as fat, hairy, disgusting, too. I am not! That's the irony. I am all of 120lbs. She is about 170, 180, and always has been at least that. I don't want to be her, so badly that I hate my own body!

She told me when I was a kid that my aunt had a shitload of money, and would leave it all to me when she died, and that I would never have need of money. My aunt didn't leave me one single cent.
As a result of my mothers fear and lies, I never learned how to take care of myself. I was always expecting the inheritance that never came. I was in my late 20's I'm ashamed to say, before I figured that out. My mom's own fears all got put on me, and as a kid, I was somehow expected to figure my way through all that shit and work out what the truth was? Jesus.

Jesus. My mom is only religious when she's afraid. That has always annoyed the piss out of me. She gets all righteous and hypocritical Christian on me when she's mad or scared, which is a lot, despite her knowing better. She even came to see my Guru once, and still she goes back that Christian shit.
(I respect Jesus, Christianity, and even some Christians, but not her, she's a liar and a fucking superstitious moron).

She would wind my dad up every day when I was a kid, and tell him stuff about me, and he'd get physically abusive with me, coming into my room suddenly, flinging doors open, frequently scaring the shit out of me, and then start hitting me and yelling for no reason I could figure out, other than it was his utter frustration with his life with her. That would happen several times a week, as I remember it. I learned to be scared, and expect to be abused. I hate her most of all for that, for turning my dad into a child-abusing pussy.

She would steal my money. If it was my birthday, Christmas, etc, and relatives would give me a tenner, she would figure out where I hid it, and take it. I think because my dad was too tight to give her enough for groceries, but I don't know that for sure. Who steals from their kid? I thought more often than not I was going crazy, I never thought for a moment she as stealing it, until I set a trap, and figured her out, when I was about 13.

She was always extremely suspicious of who I was with, what I had been doing, when I was a teenager, and would constantly ask me if I was on drugs. That used to really piss me off. I used to do things to annoy her, just because I knew it would.

She has no friends. Literally. She has scared them all away, isolated herself from them all, convoncing herself they are all out to abuse her. She is utterly paranoid. I want her to take meds. Her sister is an angel, and puts up with her for dinner once a week. She has one friend, up the road a few houses, who is a redneck moron. Totally uneducated ignorant farmer's wife. She has hairy lips and a little fat red man-face with little piggy eyes. My mother has little round piggy eyes, too. I hate her friend, too. She is the quintessential nosy-fucker neighbor. She asked my mother once if I was gay, as I was 23 and not married yet. That is my mom's 'best friend'.

I have spent a lifetime wishing she was dead, and completely out of my life. I have wished her a million times under the wheels of a truck. It would be a mercy for us both. I could sell her house and buy my own with the money. I might even give my dad back half of it. If I don't torch the place, first, with her in it.

When I was 17, I moved out, as soon as I could. I moved in with my boyfriend to get way from her. A few years later, after some assing about, my dad finally found the balls to divorce her, and she would call me at 2 in the morning sometimes, when I was sick with a life-threatening disease myself, and whine about her own shit. I had to hang up on her a number of times. Once she threatened to kill herself. I said fine, do it, and hung up. We didn't speak for months. I didn't know if she had done it or not, but I did know she never had the courage. I was right, of course.

She never learned to swim, ride a bike or to drive. We lived out in the country, miles from the next town, and she could never take me anywhere. I always had to rely on the kid next door and her parents, who I hated. I resent my mother for that, for my having to be friends with that bitch next door. I fucking hated her, she was a lying bitch. She stole things from me, and lied constantly, and picked on me with the girl down the street, and I got away as soon as I could. I hate them both. And now I hate myself for accepting that bitch friend on Facebook.

She never provided me with anything I needed. I never had fashionable clothes, or half the things my girl friends or cousins had. I had hand-me-downs. I lived out of thrift stores. I think I was about 16 before I really ever had anything new to wear. I grew not to care. I have lived a life 'coping' because of it, settling for less than I would like, forgetting what it is I would even like for myself, as I never learned to want it. There was no point.

This hatred twists my guts up, to this day. It's rage, it's total black fucking rage. I feel it in my heart and stomach and head. If I feel it, it clouds my vision, and makes me sick to my stomach.

I have this irrational fear, or hope, that if I post this, put this rant 'out there', that there will be some kind of magickal consequence, like she might actually die or something. The force in me of this hate is so strong, I am scared it will manifest in some way in the world, but if I don't get it out, it will manifest something in me, like cancer! It needs out. Fuck the consequences. I even hope she reads this and knows it's me.

I even changed my name at one point, to hide who I was, get away from that toxic childhood.

I need time with no contact with her. I need to detoxify myself from my toxic and unstable and pathetic mother, who warped my sense of life and women and health and sanity and functionality. How can I ever be the Strong One, with all that in my body still? It is a miracle I ever turned out as ok as I am. I am not perfect, I am unbalanced, needy, all the things I just listed above, paranoid, fearful, lying, all in my own worst moments, and that needs to go.

I can't be that any more. I can't live like she did. I am done. I am ready to let go and move on now, to grow up.

My girlfriend hates her mother this much too, hers was just as crazy and poisonous, and she's dead. She has had years of therapy. She has her ashes at her house, and next month, we are both driving to the coast to scatter them into the ocean, gone for good. She's letting me scatter some of them.
One day it will be my mom's turn, and I hope before then that I have come to some peace with this shit.