Most things she says, I really try hard to not take personally.  But this time?  It was just too much for me to just brush off.  Granted, it's not that bad.  She's a selfish child and a brat, so I get it.  But even selfish children usually love their parents.  My mother doesn't love me.  I know this.  I just hate being reminded of it.  

Her: I don't care if I die today.  I've lived a good life!

Her BFF Christmas: Yes, you've lived a good life.

Her:  Well, I've had good friends!!  And two men that loved me!

Christmas: Some people don't even get one!

Nowhere was I mentioned in this.  Neither one of them brought me up.  I spend each and every day taking care of her ungrateful ass.  

Then the conversation went on to talk about what an alcoholic my father was and how she knew after he got out of the military just how much he drank.  

So, my mother decided to adopt a child with a man who drank too much (10 years went by from when she realized he was an alcoholic until they adopted me, so you know he just got worse) AND a man who used to get drunk and chase my dog around in the yard, beating him with a belt?  

Okay then.  I can clearly say that my abuse was predominantly her fault.  She KNEW ahead of time he was like this and still went out and bought a child to bring into that home.  Good job there, Ma.  You win the mother-of-the-year award.  

Again, I wasn't mentioned.  Have you read this blog from the beginning?  If not, I will tell you: this blog started BECAUSE my mother denied my father was a drunk who abused us.  And then I went no contact with her in 2017 because I was done with it all and she still refused to admit any of it.  And now she's all forthcoming with all her secrets about my father.  But she doesn't include me in any of that.  She will admit SHE was abused.  She will admit SHE had to deal with my father.  But I am nowhere in this equation.  Just like when she decided to tell the world SHE was raped at 14, but when I told her I was raped at 14, she ignored me and told everyone I was a whore who was "sleeping with everyone back then, so who knows?" (when in actuality, I was a virgin).  

SHE'S THE VICTIM HERE GUYS, NOT ME.  JUST IN CASE YOU DIDN'T KNOW.

I am not denying she's a victim.  I've always included her in my crusade against my father.  Always.  But she refuses to include me in hers.  I'm always cut out so she can get all the pity.  In fact, she told me she always protected my father over me because he meant more to her than I ever did.  "He was my husband, what did you expect me to do?"  

"I don't know what home you grew up in, but it sure wasn't the same house I was in."  That's what she said to me back in 2013 when The Great Awakening happened.  She refused to even admit he drank too much.  She admitted he punched me in the face, but acted like it wasn't a big deal.  "Oh that?  Yes, he did that, but that was all."  As though your father punching you in the face for trying to protect your mother from being beaten is just another Sunday.  

I live in a world where my life is not my own.  I am not allowed to participate in it.  I am excluded on purpose.  When my uncle died, I was a HUGE part of his life up until his death.  His children weren't.  And I was completely left out of everything honoring him.  When my father died, my mother didn't allow me to grieve with her, as SHE was the only person who had lost someone.  Also, when my father was in the hospital, I was put in charge of taking care of HER mother, instead of seeing my dad.  She'd bring my uncle with her, even though my father hated him.  And when he died, my uncle got first dibs on a pillow made from his old clothes, as though that wasn't MY father.  

I really fucking hate her.  I hate her so much, every single day in every single way.  Yesterday, I gave her my $12 dinner from a restaurant and she tried to feed it to my dogs.  I told her it was expensive, and she needed to not share it with anyone, so she made a HUGE deal how she was forced to eat it all.  I said "You could have saved it, I never said you had to eat it, I said you had to not share it."  But she went on and on and on about how she was forced to eat it all.  She said "Why did you give me something so expensive?"  I looked at her and said "I don't really know."  And I was telling the truth.  Granted, I hated my food, and I knew she can't taste anything, so that's why, but still.  She's not deserving of nice things.  But I am not a monster, like she is, so I don't just feed her hot dogs all the live-long day, like she did to me as a kid.  

But unlike her, I can hate someone, and still treat them well.  I can hate her, and have a good reason to hate her, and still not be a fucking monster to her.  I still buy her the things she wants and needs.  I still make sure her meds are right.  I still cook for her.  I still check on her to make sure she's okay.  And I care about her wellbeing.  But I honestly do not like her, and there is zero love I have for her.  ZERO.  But just because you don't love someone doesn't mean you want them to hurt or suffer.  My job is to put up with her dumbass until she goes into a home.  And this coming Wed. she will see the doc who will hopefully refer her to the surgeon and then she'll be getting her knee replacement done and hopefully will be in a fucking home for good period of time.  I HOPE.  That's my big wish right now: a fucking break to live my life like a normal person for a moment.  Last time I didn't get to.  But this time I will be able to just breathe and relax without her fucking mouth or cigarette smoke stinking up the place.  

Even if it's only for a month, that's ONE MONTH without her I will be rejoicing in!  And, if I realize it's the ONLY way I can live from then on?  I will start the process of getting her into a retirement home.  I have a call on the 23rd, this coming Friday, with a Medicaid expert.  So, I'll see what they say.  

Though, I will say, we can't afford to live without her right now.  Which sucks.  

Sigh.  

At least I can look forward to a small break without her.  Which I hope will be a long break, but there's no guarantee.  Anything is better than nothing.  

I need to concentrate on something else.  Who cares if she doesn't include me in her "life well lived" (drinking and smoking?).  I know her life wasn't "well-lived" and those two "men" that loved her, one beat her and other was in love with his ex the entire time.  So, it's all a lie.  All of it.  It's a game of pretend to make herself feel better.  Which makes me sad.  

When I die, I can honestly say my husband loves me.  As do my children.  And my life IS well-lived.  It could be better, but I've done some actual great things.  And now I will try my best do even better.  

When I think about my mother and her shitty life, it actually breaks my heart.  If she thinks that being degraded and beaten was "love" and "well-lived", then I guess it makes sense to not realize when someone good is actually in your life.  I have to remind myself: I am not here for her to love me or thank me for taking care of her.  I am here because someone needs to take care of her, and I am the only person who can.  And my life isn't about her anymore.  It's about my family.  And me.  She's just the old person I take care of to the best of my abilities.  And that's it.  And it's good enough.  For now.