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Almost A Year
September 5, 2014
5:32 pm

In a few days it will be a year since I moved out on my own. Right now I'm sitting in my dorm room, settling into the first few weeks of my college classes. I had just turned 18 a few months earlier of going out on my own, and was just starting my senior year of high school. Everyone was always asking me when I'd be going back to my Mother in the first months or so after I left. No one thought I could do it on my own, I'll give them this, I wasn't sure I could either. But every time someone asked I'd always give the cold reply of " I'll die under a bridge before I go back. " At this time there was a lot of confused rage towards my Mother. God I hated that women but the roots of it weren't that clear. I just knew I hated her, and to the pit of my soul I knew if I stayed around her she'd use me until there was nothing left. Then I would suffer alone. Between so many factors I hit rock bottom in the last 5 months when I had to stay with her again. It wasn't a pleasant thing, and now I understand why other members of my family couldn't watch it anymore. I do not blame them for the tension, I honestly don't think they could have stopped it, and I can't imagine watching someone I loved barrel towards that place. There is no real way to tell how someone reacts to it, there are really only two ways. You get better or you die there. But from all good guess one could assume I was more likely to do the later. It took awhile to understand why they did what they did, and even so why I did what I did. The choices that led me back to my Mother and eventually to out on my own always seemed to lack reason. But over the last year I sought help and slowly began to realize some thing. I'll admit, I was shocked. Angry with her and even more angry with myself, I felt stupid, tricked. For the first time in my life I realized what my Mother was. Even without the major events she added to my life it was just the constant behavior always making things seem so bleak. Even as a small child I can never remember feeling happy or close to anyone. She was always a nice mixture of Antisocial and Borderline (The Queen Mother) as a parent. I felt that I should have known. 18 years later and I just then realized she was abusive?! I felt so so stupid. Bit by bit as my therapist and I got into problematic behaviors and what caused them it all seemed to start tracing back to a common cause. Every thread that led back to her but a little more rage in my stomach. Every day I felt alone and every time I pushed people away, the rage boils up so much. Still I find myself massively overwhelmed in the sheer fury. The worst part being all this anger at her, the desire to scream and tell her how awful she is, I know it's pointless, no matter how wrong she is, She will never be. My dad was the polar opposite of her, loving and nurturing. Not just to his children, but the world in general. One of those people who just made the world better, and everyone liked him. I love my father so much, and through my life he's one of the few I was sure I loved, as the ability soon became near impossible for me. In a strange twist though I'll admit we weren't that close, not due to lack of desire, but the force in my life who burned any bridge I tried to build, any connection that got to strong, and route to leave her. My Mother made sure I was so sure I was alone my entire life, I trusted no one, not even myself. There was only ever her. My father passed away when I was 8, leaving 0 buffer from this women and another massive gash on my heart. But in life there is almost always a silver lining and it took a very long time to see this one, and it is probably the only one that came of his death. I started to open my eyes to what my Mother was. The night he died I ran to her sobbing, begging to know where my daddy was. I'll always remember the look on her face, she did not touch me, nor speak to me. Just a cold hard look of annoyance.  It was the first time in my life I understood why people wanted to die sometimes. The first time I thought of her "It should have been you." though not nearly the last. Between my Mothers abuse and my fathers death and very warped sense of self worth came about. Constantly seeing myself as a failure to my father, not worth the life I had while he did not. Soon the "It should have been you" became accompanied by "at least if not you, it should have been me." While my mother was the bigger evil, doing nothing but harm to those around her. I saw myself as the same, just in a lesser degree. I've been dealing with all the broken things inside of me for the last year, things get overwhelming almost constantly, opening the closet to 18 years worth of skeletons has it's draw back, but if I want my happiness I must clear it out. I haven't spoken to my Mother since the day I left, where she did more blaming and guilt tripping. She sent me a few texts saying she was sorry and she loved me in the next 2 - 3 weeks the first 2 I did not respond to, after finally realizing if I wanted her to leave me alone I had to say so I replied saying "You need to stop contacting me, there are no more chances, stop asking where I am and leave me alone." For someone so sorry for their behavior the reply was fairly predictable "You never gave me any chances! What happens when you run out of money? I can't wait." I attribute that last bit to some of my success. 18 years of abuse was not enough, I had to fail still. I'll admit I'm a bit of a reactive spiteful person. In that moment I decided she would die waiting for that. Through the year my feelings on my mother have only gotten worse, I know now with no questioning to it that she will never be welcome in my life, when I have children she will never be welcome in theirs. My step mom will be the only grandmother they know and the next time I might willingly consider seeing her will be when she lays in a casket. Though that is not a guarantee either. I'm picking my life up piece by piece and every mess she's made enrages me again. In the last few months I realized the relationships she destroyed with my step mom and my siblings and I mourned them, but now I have stopped and started trying to repair my mistake, for no matter what caused them I created some deep cracks. I'm so sad about the life I lost with them, it's hard to imagine the rage I feel towards my Mother ever going away, but even if it does I know she will never be in my life again. I would never trust her.

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