She hated me . I also hate her.

 

So it's been a year and a half since she passed away.  I still do not miss her, and I am not sad that she is gone.  Today Mariska and I went into the upstairs living room to do some more clearing out. Making things pretty making them mine, clearing the clutter and the junk. I was not expecting to find such evil words, such disregard for who I was as a person. I feel like all the times she got close it was to stab me in the back and prove something, to fit how she viewed me. I can tell you that I am heartbroken.  I can tell you, that I hate her.  I can tell you that she was never the mom that I needed, and her needs were above everything else.  The things that she wrote about me, the things that bothered her there was not a single shred of care or concern for me.  The words that she wrote cut like a knife and I am amazed that even being dead her written words felt like daggers.  Her words were heavy with how awful terrible that I was, and she couldn't understand why I couldn't be happy for her.  She was as self-centered as my father.  She was as much of a monster as he was, different but in many ways the same.  If she could say the things, she said out loud, then yes, the things that she wrote were just as terrible, just as dismissive.  I am finding out that even in the moments she pretended to like me, she really didn't I just was serving some kind of service for her.  She even went to see Jason! I am guessing more than once by her writing.  I will ask when I see him, there was nothing that was private.  She feared I would spill all the family secrets and made me out to be crazy.  I don't think he was getting the full story. She didn't want me to heal, she didn't want me to be my own person. She never understood me or where I was.  She never understood my fight for Angela, my need to keep her safe ever ever. 

The things that she complained about, never once were my thoughts and feelings considered.  There was no mention of pressing charges, on my father because her husband was fucking her daughter, but that's ok at least he wasn't in her bed. No mention of Albert or Bella or any of the things that happened to me.  I was just a problem, a secret that she wanted to keep. She complained after I got back from testifying for Angela. Even right off the plane not once did she ask about me about testifying nothing. In the years after I was being a mom to my twins and going to school and she was complaining about me.  She was complaining about Vincent sleeping with her, and how she needed time for herself.  I never asked her to do that. NEVER. All the complaints about Vincent and Mariska and yet there were no questions about the father about what happened. She really didn't care; I was just a slut, pregnant and got in the way. I was going to have babies that looked like little monkey's according to her.  Fuck her, how dare she say that to me.  If she said that to my face, I cannot imagine the things, that she must have said when I wasn't around. Finally, the tears are coming, and I cannot even begin to tell you the hate that I have for her.  I hate that she was my mom, I hate that I kept trying year after year to make her love me, like if I just did enough, she would love me care for me.  No, nothing I did was ever enough, ever right or the way that she wanted it.  There was not an ounce of remorse or regret about the things that I was going through.  Everything was about her.

One of the last straws, was when the kids were in elementary school, I was subbing trying to finish school.  She was cold and was moving furniture, blocking the path to get through spaces. It was around the time of her weight loss surgery, and I was scum of the earth, I mean I read her appeal, it was disgusting.  She wanted the surgery to prove to her severely obese daughter that it could be done. Fuck you. Her words and actions once again were as far apart as they could possibly be.  She said we needed to talk.  I went and dropped the kids off at school. The dread when I pulled into the driveway, I was drowning in pain and sadness, and she felt nothing for me. I can remember sitting on the couch and her sitting beside me, I was crying that hard cry, when your entire body trembles. I was really talking to her about what I had going on, how I was struggling. I was literally telling her that I was drowning. She sat there shrugging her shoulders, arms crossed no emotion for me whatso ever.  She could have cared less.  I was done talking, just stopped i was pouring out my heart and there was nothing.  She would have cared more for anything other than me. She went to touch me, and I told her to stop, told her no, that was the last thing I needed.  And it was a week later that I was moving out.  The scene on the couch was really the beginning of the end.  It was my last semester of student teaching; I had made it that far and still I was the one she hated.  She even complained, when I asked for help with Gas. Not sure what she wanted me to do.  This was also about the same time that she was going to the store, and I asked her if she could, buy toilet paper and she said no and walked away. Even when she was nice, there was always an ulterior motive.  Now I think back to the times when I thought she was there and being supportive, I bet that it is safe to say, she wasn't acting out of the goodness of her heart. This wasn't some kind of tough love, I was busting my ass being a mom and trying to finish my degree. I wanted more for my children and for myself and could never understand that. 

In everything that she wrote telling how terrible I was during this time my brother was a druggie and in and out of prison and safe P programs more than once.  I sold my furniture so we could visit him, so he would have some money on his books.  Yet I was the problem. In all of the things that I saw written, it was all the great things he had done for her. He was the favorite he was a boy and boys were always the favorite. She talked about how he came for her tummy tuck and helped and did everything right.  oh yea.  I was nothing.  I took the kids and turned them against her, no she did that all by herself. 

I am heartbroken about the things that she wrote about me and my children.  I am not sure that she ever loved me.  I would like to believe that maybe there was a time, maybe once but I am not sure. I am going back in that room tomorrow and throwing all that I can away.  I don't want reminders of the hurt that she caused.  I don't want reminders of her. Her lack her care, warmth, understanding. In all of her writing there was nothing about being sorry, about not being there.  Even in the aftermath of is gut wrenching. Pressing charges and being so distant and trying to figure everything out there was nothing for me not a shred of anything that I needed. There will always be a piece of my heart that is broken.  She couldn't understand me and where I was and didn't want to learn. She never wanted to understand what happened to me that made me the person that I was. I just got in the way.  I created too many problems and was not willing to be quiet and do the easy thing.  My entire life I always chose the hard thing.  Always always and she never understood that.  It's crazy she always said how favored that Mariska was.  No, I was being a mom to two very different children. She never understood that.  She made sure my children knew who was most important, boys and made it known.  There was even a card that Mariska wrote and said I know you don't like me very much, but I love you.  That is the atmosphere of favorites and secrets that I grew up in. I wasn't going to have anything close to that with my children and that drove her crazy and she took it out on Mariska. I hope that someday that Vincent can understand the things that went on and know that she was the enemy not me.  Someday I hope he will understand. 

I am grateful that she is no longer here, I am grateful that I am able to start rebuilding with Vincent, but I shouldn't have to. The damage that she did is unimaginable, and I will spend my lifetime rebuilding what she destroyed. I continue to care for Mariska and her tender heart. She was treated so unkind, and once again she just wanted to be loved. I am grateful to be making things mine and moving on.  I would not be where I am if she was still around.  She could never understand, where I am and where I want to go.  She was a secret keeper, and I was everything opposite.  She hated the person that I was, the person that I am and all the things that I stood for.  Today I hate her with all that I am, every single bone in my body. It may last a few days or a few months, maybe even years; I don't know yet.  I do know that I am further than I have ever been and am doing things to create meaning in all the things that have happened to me that she could never acknowledge.  She hated that I was willing to face all the hard things and work on them instead of keeping secrets.  I was the cycle breaker, and she knew it, and she hated me for that same reason.  She knew I wasn't willing to stay and do things the same.  I wanted so badly for her to love me all of me unconditionally and she was completely incapable.  When I was little when I was older and even as an adult, she still didn't have it in her to do the right thing and be my mom. Not once did she ever apologize and listen to my heart. Not once not ever and I wanted that more than anything.

 

I heart your heart.