I hate it when I write a big post and do something stupid to erase it.
Mom's not good... and my aunt confirmed my suspicions that 2-3 years is way too high. We're guessing months.
She's going through mom's bills and insurance stuff, and I'm in the market for car insurance and a cell phone (as those are still in my mother's name). I'll wait until she goes, because I really can't afford it right now, but it's on my mind as something I need to research.
It's starting to hit me, and I'm starting to feel sad about it. It's hard to think of my mother this way, after so many years of hating her. It's a strong word, but it's accurate. But, how can you hate somebody who truly loved you (in her own fucked up way), and who now can't even stand up on her own? I'm still confused, but I'm starting to remember good things. She used to read to me every night. Every. night. As a teacher, I know how important that is, now. She used to skip meals so we could eat. She busted her ass at a job she loved but wore her out so that we could have a lifestyle that wasn't complete crap.
And, yes, she got drunk and screamed at me. She also smoked like a chimney despite pleas to stop. And she said horrible things about my father. But she was there at every single concert I played (except one), she went to each parent/teacher conference... she signed all my report cards, and made sure I went on every field trip. When my forensics coach in middle school told me a week before the big tournament that I couldn't go, she came to school and raised hell with the principal.
She helped me with my math homework, and read my biology lab reports. She stayed up all night with me one night because I waited til the last minute to do this HUGE project and helped me. She even sent me to bed at one point and finished it for me, so that I could sleep for a few hours before having to go to school.
She was a bitch, and a drunk... but she loved me, and supported me, and encouraged me the best ways she knew how. She wanted better for me than she had. She's proud of me. And I'm fortunate to know that, where many people have had really horrible childhoods and parents who wouldn't be proud of their kids if they cured cancer while walking on Mars.
My mother loves me... and she's proud of me.
And for the first time in years, I'm able to cry for her, without feeling angry or bitter or hurt. I just feel... sad.
In a way, it feels kind of good.
Mom's not good... and my aunt confirmed my suspicions that 2-3 years is way too high. We're guessing months.
She's going through mom's bills and insurance stuff, and I'm in the market for car insurance and a cell phone (as those are still in my mother's name). I'll wait until she goes, because I really can't afford it right now, but it's on my mind as something I need to research.
It's starting to hit me, and I'm starting to feel sad about it. It's hard to think of my mother this way, after so many years of hating her. It's a strong word, but it's accurate. But, how can you hate somebody who truly loved you (in her own fucked up way), and who now can't even stand up on her own? I'm still confused, but I'm starting to remember good things. She used to read to me every night. Every. night. As a teacher, I know how important that is, now. She used to skip meals so we could eat. She busted her ass at a job she loved but wore her out so that we could have a lifestyle that wasn't complete crap.
And, yes, she got drunk and screamed at me. She also smoked like a chimney despite pleas to stop. And she said horrible things about my father. But she was there at every single concert I played (except one), she went to each parent/teacher conference... she signed all my report cards, and made sure I went on every field trip. When my forensics coach in middle school told me a week before the big tournament that I couldn't go, she came to school and raised hell with the principal.
She helped me with my math homework, and read my biology lab reports. She stayed up all night with me one night because I waited til the last minute to do this HUGE project and helped me. She even sent me to bed at one point and finished it for me, so that I could sleep for a few hours before having to go to school.
She was a bitch, and a drunk... but she loved me, and supported me, and encouraged me the best ways she knew how. She wanted better for me than she had. She's proud of me. And I'm fortunate to know that, where many people have had really horrible childhoods and parents who wouldn't be proud of their kids if they cured cancer while walking on Mars.
My mother loves me... and she's proud of me.
And for the first time in years, I'm able to cry for her, without feeling angry or bitter or hurt. I just feel... sad.
In a way, it feels kind of good.
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(((hugs)))
I am so sorry for your loss. I'm sending a thousand (((hugs))) your way.