My sister once described our mom as a mother aligator. Once her young was old enough to feed itself, she more or less let us fend for ourselves. I think I'd have liked it better if that were closer to accurate but she really held on longer than she should have, in just one way. While I had to throw a shit-fit in the 7th grade, just to get her to buy me a pair of jeans or shoes that weren't full of holes, and I never had lunch money past the first grade, she was always concerned with the state of our souls. Nevermind that her hot/cold affection/anger was (and still is) sort of soul-crushing.
I could never get her to care about things that matter to kids (adult kids too). Moms are supposed to beam with pride at their children's acheivements, give pep-talks and hugs when we fail, give solid advice when we're lost. They're not supposed to avoid you because they don't want to hear that you're depressed.
I didn't have the luxury of avoiding her depression for the first 22 years of my life. Maybe if I had, I wouldn't be such a disaster of a human being now.
Ahhh, but that's just my frustration talking. I'm a not a disaster (anymore). I just feel like one at the moment. Again, it sucks when my logic is in tact, in spite of the depressive feelings. I sometimes wish I could stop talking sense into myself. Let me REALLY go off the deep end. It's easier when things seem so clear and black and white. Sanity be damned.
Anyway, I need to talk to someone who really knows me. The problem is that I never let anyone know me. A woman's mother is supposed to be that person, but mine is thoughtless and somewhat (I'm mean. So what?) simpleminded. I can't get real words and thoughts out of her. Just bible-babble. She complains that I don't want to hear about what the bible says and I can't bring myself to tell her that I just don't want to hear it from HER. I want real thoughts and insight from HER, not regurgitated scripture and cultish catch-phrases.
I guess most shrinks would tell me that I need to accept that my mother is who she is and to stop being angry that she's not something else, but fuck it. Why can't I be pissed? What's wrong with being pissed about getting the shaft when mothers were being handed out?
And why the fuck am I still trying to spare this woman's feelings all the time? When did I become HER mother?