Sometimes I wonder if my mom ever thinks about the despair she’s has put me in during this last decade or if she truly believes that she has done right by me
Sometimes I try to convince myself that my mom isn’t strong enough to take accountability for anything because she’s so used to her own harmful ways. Living that delusion used to put me at this false peace knowing that it’s not 100% her fault but the fault of those put her through so much trauma to act that way. I found myself blaming others for what she has done to me. It was easier to love and understand my mother as I blamed people who have done nothing to me personally. Full of displaced anger, I isolated myself from people might of hurt my mother but loved me deeply. I watched them change into better people who might have not (and never will be) been forgiven by my mother but forgave themselves. I mean, as a child I was told “because they don’t like me, they don’t like you.” How stressful to live with that thought as a child when you have a big family of aunts, uncles, and cousins.
Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if I had my mother’s support. Not financially but instead mentally and emotionally. I wonder if I’d have children or be in a loving relationship. Maybe if I had my mother’s love I would be in a better career rather than years and years of alcohol abuse and dealing with heartbreak cause by chasing people who resembled my mother’s behavior. Constantly begging for acceptance from difficult people
Sometimes I wonder what it truly feels like to have your mom has a best friend during adulthood. From the moment I could retain memories I always felt as though I was her enemy. I’m sure she doesn’t really like me now in present time, but I can’t wrap my head around on why she was always had a problem with me while praising other children. My father wasn’t perfect but he picked me up more than brought me down while my mother compared me to other kids around me. I remember overhearing her conversation with a friend at 12 years old. “She’s just average,” she complained disappointingly. I was a straight A honors student. Constantly feeling so small and worthless. At 30 years old my self esteem still isn’t where I would like it. It’s difficult to not hate yourself anymore.
Sometimes I wonder if she cries herself to sleep like I do because our relationship is severed. Does she really not need me like I need her? Does she not want me like I want her? What is it about me and my sister that she can not put us first. Does her heart bleed for us the way my sister and I’s does?
Sometimes I wonder what my life will be like when she passes away. Will I find some type of relief? Will my heart break more? Will I live the rest of my life wondering if my mom loved me like how she wonders if her mom loved her?
dailybridgerton
turnnoffyourmind
romaincrisis
titsay
prguitarman
blakekathryn
tangentwithtanner
