Friday, September 16, 2011

Me and the woman who birthed me

I don't feel that Facebook is the appropriate place to blog. Somehow I justify strangers potentially reading my soul as a little more tolerant.

I just got off the phone with my mom. I had to take the battery out as the hang up button disappeared completely. I can tolerate her, be nice to her, until she starts ranting and raving about being a great mother, about all these great memories I don't have, about her being home and there for me. *cough cough BULL SHIT cough cough*

I went days without food, I sometimes had lunch money and other days would eat friends scraps. She made it a point to be there more for my friends who she thought didn't have parents than she was for me. I remember missing school to be home with my sister, I remember not being sober because of her. I remember her having no clue as to how I felt or who I was. I remember her hurting me on a daily basis and journals chopped full of reasons I hated her. I don't remember this sunshine and rainbow she talks about.

I asked to borrow her sewing machine, mine is currently inoperable and taking my sanity with it. She said no, simply because its hers. Had I been my brothers girlfriend or my own friend, "poor thing". She said I can't use it because... its hers. That's it. And all I asked for was a week. A week of sanity and a moment apart from tears. She said to pay to fix mine, $180. She said we should have the money because we make more than her. We have two kids and debt. She went on and on with excuses, telling me to tell everyone else to take care of it like they were indebted to me in her mind.

I try and try and try to have a relationship with this woman who gave birth to me but for the love of God I don't think its possible. I hold her accountable to too much and all I want her to do is acknowledge it. Its not going to happen.

I'm tired of feeling so invisible to everyone.

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