A Mother’s Role.

Let me tell you a little secret.  I hate my mother.  She is a cruel, vindictive, manipulating, uneducated, poor reflection of a human being and dare I say, possibly even, slightly evil?

When I started this blog, I said that I would try not to censor myself.  So here goes.

If you’ve read the previous posts, you’ll know that I am not “normal” as a result of my abnormal childhood.  This resulted in a love-hate relationship with dear old mom.  So now, she’s in a nursing home (she had a stroke several years ago) and I see her every three/four days.  Not because I don’t want her to be lonely, not because I miss her, but out of guilt.  Guilt that she instilled in me at a very early age.  Guilt that she tried to instill in my girls at a very early age and I pray she was unsuccessful.  Guilt is not a very good reason to visit your mother.

They are quick visits and very poor “quality” visits at that.  Conversation is minimal and usually consists of complaints about the nursing staff.  She makes demands (“get the blanket” or “get me juice” or “I need more shampoo” etc) immediately when I walk in the door.  I wouldn’t mind that so much if she just asked how my day was.  But she never asks.  Ever.

I know it’s wrong to wish for someone’s death but it’s the truth.  Deep down, and for a very long time, I’ve wished for her death.  Her death would mean that she would no longer feel pain, would no longer be at someone else’s mercy, would finally be at peace.  If those were my sole reasons for wishing death upon her, perhaps I would not feel such guilt.  But I am flawed.  My reasons are selfish.  It would mean I would no longer have to face her.  I would no longer have to go out of my way to see her.  I would no longer have to pretend to care.  I would no longer have to deal with her demands.  I would no longer have to deal with her.


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