Mommy Dearest...

As I have been working on this post, I have come across quite a few other blogger's crazy mother stories. The Boy's mother always tells me that there is nothing more complicated that the mother/daughter relationship. In reading other stories, I am realizing that this is more true than I had originally thought. Anyway, here is a post about my mom.

For as long as I can remember, my mother has been a bitch. When I was a little kid, she was always the person who wanted to leave the playground (if we made it there to begin with) or the party early. If my cousin would sleep over, we would have to whisper while playing and go to sleep super early. I wasn't allowed to sleep over her house. Or anyone's house for that matter. If you recall that time in your life, sleepover parties were all the rage. Not for me. I was always left out. My father left when I was 8 and my sister was 2. My mother only got worse then. She was miserable and in turn, I had to be as well. I wasn't allowed to go to any birthday parties unless someone else picked me up and dropped me off. Not because we didn't have a car. We did. But we lived on a block with alternate side of the street parking and she never wanted to lose her spot. If the party was on a weekend during the day, she might take me, but only if the party ended early. As I got older, this became a more serious problem.

My sister was lucky enough to be the baby. She was sheltered and protected while I was picked on. My mother took her frustrations out on me. I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm glad my sister had a happy childhood. I would have taken a million more slaps in the face, punches, pushes and shoves to ensure she was happy. When my mother was having a good day, I would be so happy. I would try my hardest to do and say anything she might approve of. Until of course, something made her mood change and I was in trouble. I spent almost the entirety of high school punished and in my room. The first report card of my freshman year of high school, I received commended achievement honors. In my school there was first honors, second honors and commended achievement. It was given to students with an average of 88 or above. When my mom got home from picking up my report card, I was screamed at and hit because I embarassed her with my "stupid honors". I was subsequently forced to quit the school musical in which I had the lead role to "focus more on my school work."

The following year, I was made captain of the swim team. Sports night rolled around and my father was unable to make it. My mother had to take me and was so not happy. This is the same woman who NEVER came to a swim meet. My dad drove all over NY to be at them all, my mother could never be bothered. During the award ceremony, there was confusion in the presentation of awards. The name of the award had been changed to honor a classmate's recently deceased parent and the classmate mistakenly thought she was being presented it. So as not to embarass her, my coach let it slide, but pulled me aside and explained that I was to receive the award and that they would make sure they made it up to me. On the ride home, my mother bitched and yelled at me for wasting her time. Why should she have to spend hours sitting around if I wasn't even good enough to win anything? She didn't believe me when I told her I had really won. She accused me of being a liar "like your father." Once we got close to our home, the hunt for a parking spot began and my stomach began to turn. I knew that the longer we looked the more angry she would become. I also knew that the further we had to go, the more trouble I'd be in. We had to park around the corner from our house. She yelled at me, slapped and pulled my hair the entire walk home. I cried. I always cried.

Eventually, I grew taller then her. I learned how she would attack and how to defend myself. I wold run to the bathroom and kneel in a little corner and cover my head. She never drew blood or left any marks. I wouldn't consider myself an abused child, just a beaten one. She wasn't strong enough to really do major damage. Just mental. Lots and lots of mental damage. After 18 years of biting my toungue, I realized she couldn't really hurt me anymore. The last time she laid her hands on me, I was bent over the hallway trying to protect my face. I suddenly realized that I could walk out and when I stood up to do so, I accidentally flung her off of me into the wall. She never hit me again. She continued to belittle me though. She picks on me for every thing. And not always in the most obvious manner. A lot of the time they are just undermining little comments that she tries to pretend are nice.

In college, I met the Ex. I never knew mothers could be so nice and families so united. I loved his family and they took me in like their own. I spent 4 years as part of their family. I miss them still. The Ex and I moved in together after I graduated. When it didn't work out, I had to go home. I would wake up in the morning and not come home until the wee hours of the morning, just to avoid her. By now she had calmed down a lot. My sister had all the freedoms I hadn't. I had to have a night job as a freshman in college in order to pay for my cell phone and car. My mother pays for my sister's brand new car and cell phone. She is a junior. They have this relationship that almost appears normal. My sister knows how my mother really is, but is able to deal with her in a certain way I never could. I wish I had her patience. I'm glad she had it easier than me.

When The Boy and I decided to move to DC, we sat down to tell her together. She took one look at me, turned to The Boy and said "she will be miserable no matter where she is. Good luck with that." I had spent my whole life thinking I was all screwed up because my dad left my mom. It wasn't until I began having major anxiety attacks after college that I finally started seeing a shrink. It was there I realized that all my childhood issued were her fault. When my mother found out I was seeing a shrink, she grilled me for answers. "Does he blame me?" she wanted to know. I told her what went on in that office was non of her business. She told me in response that only weak people needed to seek mental help.

While these are some examples of why my mother and I don't have the best relationship, they are the bad examples. Even as a miserable woman, she made sure my sister and I always had clothes on our backs. She sent us both to private school. Of course, my father always paid child support, but my point is more that she did take care of us, but she did it the way she knew how. She has changed a lot over the passed few years. She isn't violent anymore. She does still pick on me though. I've come to think she is jealous of the way I am living my life. She had me very young and her life didn't turn out the way she had hoped. She gives good advice though. Too bad she can't follow it herself. She is a decent friend, not so good mother. To me at least. Now a days we have a great phone relationship. But stick us in a room together and it's hard. I spent so much of my life biting my toungue in fear of heing hit, that I find it impossible to not call her out on her selfish ways. She is very selfish. And dramatic. If it's not about her, it doesn't matter. That, in a nutshell, is my mother.