This might be a long blog...
I'm still battling with my mom. No matter how I try to tell her, she's still going to try to stay here with her animals. And it's not just her two cats and one dog. No, there's two birds as well. She's coming with a whole zoo in a moving van from California all the way to my house in Maryland. That's right, clear across the US with all those animals.
Her reason for the lack of communication... I'm not on Skype enough.
What the hell reason is that when we are in the technology age!?! Emails. Facebook messaging not to mention Facebook chat. Texting. Actual phone calls. There are just a ton of ways someone can communicate with someone else. Any one of those would have gotten to me!
Yet, she complains that I wasn't on Skype when she was. If she had sent me an email with a time to be on Skype, I would have been there. There's no excuse for her.
What that being said, I went to Skype and we chatted. Just chatted as she was obviously frightened to see me face to face. With how pissed she's made me over this, I don't blame her.
Throughout the conversation, I made sure to use "Oh, I'm wrong" kinds of phrases to indicate that she was putting down how I used to feel and thought back then. You know, I wrote that kind of phrase four times in regards to our turbulant relationship. Four times she countered me negatively when I told her how I stayed quiet against voicing my feelings for her. To be the good little daughter and take everything she said without question.
She tried to counter that my big brother spoke for me at times as a negative thing. But I had believed I had countered that nicely, wrong. I had said that he knew what I had wanted and tried to tell her because he understood me, but apparently I was wrong about that. Apparent I just refused to speak to her about anything. To her, she's a victim with an ungrateful child she could never understand. The understanding is true because I didn't want to conform into what she was and is.
Apparently I had blown the whole she wanting to be a nurse like her way out of proportion. How I remember it was that she told all my councelors that I wanted to be a nurse, but when I was alone with them, they got the real answer. In elementary school, I tested to be a writer. When she got the results, she had looked at me and said she couldn't see it. She was admit that I wanted to be a nurse.
If you ask her, she'll say she always encouraged everything I did. Really? Maybe saying something good before ripping it to pieces in the next heart beat. Nursing being the only thing that she forcefully encouraged to me "strongly consider". The good daughter I was then, I nodded and stayed quiet because that's what I had thought she wanted. My heart had always conceeded to hers because I didn't know any better then. She praised to everyone how I never talked back and did everything I was told. That's what she wanted and that's what I gave her. It's not my fault that she's saying it's my fault for not speaking up. Why does it always have to be my fault? Why can't she see how she had formed me all those years to be the most obediant daughter in the world?
Now in the face of this new situation, I refused to be the obediant daughter and just bend over backwards to make her the most comfortable in not having to pay for anything. For her to just walk into my new home and take over. I refuse to do that now when I know better. Sacrificing my feelings for her is something I will never do again.
At this moment, she's packing up all her stuff into a moving van and will be starting her trek across the US with her animals. Damned if I'll let her final stop be my house. She cares not for my own feelings in her decision to come back East as her life on the West Coast has failed. I still don't know about that husband of hers that I didn't and still don't approve of.
You know, she didn't bother with anyone else. I was her first and only choice to stay with. She didn't bother with anyone else with her plans. I had only know she was leaving California, not that she WAS coming to move into my brand new home. Then when she finally told me her decision, she didn't give me a damn bit of choice in the matter. Last week she had called around when it was clear I didn't want to take her in. She says no one is willing because everyone knows that it's not just for a little. She may spout that, but we all know better.
How can she assume I'll be such a push over for her to stay here? I'm not the weak pathetic girl I once was. I refuse to be her again. The one to hide in the shadows while everyone else was happy and living life. The pathetic girl who took on her brother's chores along side her own because they were too busy to do them theirselves. She doesn't realize how many times I did that because she was at work and never saw those things. For years I had my nose stuck in a book because no one wanted me for anything other than cooking or cleaning. She doesn't realize that. Never saw that. How could I be wrong about things when she was never there to see!?!
She also assumes that if I did let her stay, the animals would stay too. If I had been involved in her plans properly and she gave me a choice. If I said yes, those animals would have been a no from the get. I refuse to have a house with a dog, five cats, and two birds in it. That was a perminant NO. But she didn't and I refuse even her to be here.
I don't care if she pulls the victim card to everyone, she's not staying here. If she's going to be the victim and I'm the villian, I'll be the villian all the way. NO NO NO!!!
I'm tired of this negative relationship that we have, but she won't for a second hear my side without shaking her head and telling me I'm wrong. About everything. For once I'd just wanted her to listen. Really and truly listen to what I have to say and not degrade me. Thos perfect daughter is bleeding out yet she turns a blind eye to it and I'm left dying of the wounds she creates and rips back open. Wounds that were never healed in the first place, just stitched till she cut the strings again. The skin around these wounds are turning blood red from the pain that no painkillers can help with. I even wrote a fucking poem that she had and never read!
Yet I'm wrong about everything...
Blessed be your day and life, Kat.
