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12 November, 2007

Tired Of My Mother

I am so tired of my mother.

Which is, of course, why I'm stuck writing about it, because my entire universe keeps collapsingto "Goddamn, am I tired of my mother."

Every glitch, every petty irrationality, everything I snap at or over, somewhere along the way I come across this moment of revelation: oh, right, I go completely nonlinear here because of a pattern from my mother. I am tired of this. I want to be a crazy freak for a different reason for a bit.

I was going to print out "Have you ever gone mad?" from this blog and my detailed writeup of the assault from my LJ to hand to the shrink tomorrow, to have something to talk about other than my mother, but that was before a dispute and revelation led to me sobbing in my husband's arms about how tired I am of my mother. Sobbing and wailing to the point of nausea (how I hate that emotional upset makes me want to vomit) about how everywhere I turn, she's there, the echoing voice in my head, the patterns, the irrationalities, every damn problem I try to tackle, every issue I want to resolve, oh look, there are mommy issues. So maybe I should talk about how tired I am of my mother.

There's no escape. She lives in my head and I don't know how to evict her. I live five hundred miles away from her for a goddamn reason, and I still have these small signs that light up saying "Please do not push this button again".

And who am I kidding, anyway? So much of the madness is tangled up in having no refuge, no way of recovering, becoming sane, her obsession with the condition of the filthy sheets over showing any concern over my pain-wracked mind, fighting to stay where I was rather than go back anywhere near her where I would have to face the buffeting of her towering contempt. I don't know how to chase down the origins of that break, either, though she's not uninvolved. So much of the aftermath of the assault is tied up in not having anywhere safe to turn to, because my mother was untrustworthy and my father was emotionally shut-in and ... there's no escaping her there either, just a diversion of other reasons to be quite crazy that are at least slightly separate from the all-consuming howling madness that she taught me.

And my liege just asked me, "Do you want some tea or something?"

I said, "I want an exorcism."

He said he'd look for his manual for Catholic priests.

Heh.

I am so tired of my mother.

Therapy is hard. I don't see any way of getting free.

6 comments:

Cube said...

Time heals all wounds.

Eventually.

Brave heart, Tegan.

Dw3t-Hthr said...

Working on it, Doctor.

Working on it.

Annwyd said...

I don't mean to belittle your experiences, just to point out the universal in your metaphor--I think most people who grew up with emotional abuse of some kind or another could use an exorcism.

It's the internalized demon that keeps doing the damage long after you're away from the one on the outside.

lilcollegegirl said...

I'm with you. I want to have massive abandonment issues for some other reason than my family. Sorry the place you/we are in sucks.

Borderline Crazy said...

Heh: I too would like to be a crazy freak from some new and more exciting reason than mommy issues." I mean, it seems almost trite! "I'm nuts because of my parents." But no matter how hard I try to get away from it, there it is. Bah.

Dw3t-Hthr said...

I just want some variety, man. Gods.

I mean, having a borderline parent is enough reason to have a couple barrelfuls of crazy, I guess, but couldn't I swap one of these barrels for, I don't know, a traumatic encounter with a clown?