repeating ruminations

My mother hates me.

I'm not just making that up, geesh. I have a life time of proof.

I got on her bad side the day I was born. I had the audacity to be a rerun. Her first pregnancy was exciting and magical, no ultrasounds back then, so lots of dreaming and hoping for what ever gender her heart desired. But no mater what she would get a baby, SO EXCITING! She got a girl! 

Second pregnancy stressful and worrisome with bleeding all through it. More hope and dreams of having a boy. And she got a boy!

Third pregnancy she had no choice, there was nothing else to have. I disappointed her by not coming out some new and exciting gender.

She demonstrated her ability to ignore me even before I was born. When she was 8 months pregnant I came to her in a dream and told I wanted to be named Paja.  She decided if I was a boy she would call me Rajah.  

um, I told you I was a girl by the P in my name mama. 

I also was born with a dime sized mole on my butt. Inherited it from my father. I at the time as a infant didn't know how much that bothered her. It wasn't until I watched my other sibling come into the world, and saw how she carefully looked each of them over that it put everything into perspective as my youngest sister was found to have a stork bite birthmark on the back of her neck. I saw that look on her face. That look of something awful rolling around in her brain. 

I pissed her off something fierce when I was little and that was the end of her seeing me. She never looked AT me again, through me, yes, but never AT me again.

I tried for year and years to get her love. I would kiss her goodnight, night after night. She wouldn't turn away from reading the newspaper. Icy cheek.

I finally stopped and accepted my banishment. Accepted I would never have a mother like I saw everyone else having.

When I finally got the nerve to stand up to her one day as an adult and told her: "FUCK YOU!!" during a heated conversation.

I was exiled once gain and forbidden to see my younger siblings.

Sigh.

bitch.

In therapy while Richard was trying to SAVE MY LIFE he tried to get me to open up communication with her. I told him I was afraid of her. That I didn't know how to talk to her, we were complete strangers.

I finally agreed and asked her if she would come to a session with me. 

Her response?

"No, I will be ganged up on and  blamed."

ah, put down your dukes there Mama. Your sounding guilty.

Richard, bless his heart, even tried. He called her and I could hear her ever so polite plastic phone voice telling him that my life wasn't worth her even spending a few minutes of her time to talk to me.

Richard was able to get me to put down my rabid hatred of her and just let her be in my head/heart. To see her as a person rather then my mother.

I spent my childhood hearing the tale of how my father was sold as a baby. I used to wonder, why didn't she sell me? She didn't want me. I feel like an adopted child who mother gave them up. Except, she kept me. I lived in a house where I knew I wasn't wanted.

She once sent me a letter out of the blue, where she wrote to me as if we had a deep long mother/daughter friendship. It gutted me. I DON'T KNOW WHO YOUR TALKING TOO HERE BUT THAT DAUGHTER NEVER EXISTED. STOP JABBING ME WITH YOUR WORDS, I GET IT MAMA YOU HATE ME.

All this damaged me.

It still damaged me even to this day. I don't see it but BOY, when I get triggered, the flashback vault will wretch up horrific things.

A couple of years ago my sister sent me a picture of Mama hugging one of my siblings as she kissed their cheek. The pain wheel turned and twisted my gut as I slid to the floor crying.  She never loved me like that. why?

Why was I so repulsive she couldn't hug me?

I grew to understand her more as I aged and became a mother myself.

But it does little to temper the pain.

I am strong enough now to confront her and have deep discussions with her. But she has fled into dementia. She takes all the answers with her.

I work on all this crap occasionally. Self therapizing. Because I know that one day she will die, and when she does, its going to set me off. That little child in me that wanted and needed a mama is going to cry endlessly, because Mama's death means the end of any chance of having a mama.

I realized as I was working on all this crap last month, that ....Mama is so shut off that I don't think she lets anyone love her. 

Oh she loves certain people, but no one can love her. 

And I was a fool for ever trying.

Her own past damaged her to the point that she deemed herself unlovable and she rebuked anyone who tried. 

My wanting to love her, must have really REALLY FUCKING PISSED HER OFF.

No wonder she hates me.