It only took a few days to get over my visit with mom.
Not bad considering the collateral damage she tends to inflict in the course of a single conversation (and this was no exception).
She's like a wasp that leaves its stinger inside your skin. You swear you're okay after the attack because you can't find any blood, but it's still releasing poison into your system for days afterwards.
By the time you figure out where that stinger is embedded (and use Gestalt therapy to pull it out), it's already caused nerve damage.
And my nerves were shot.
Early in our conversation, she asked me what I would be teaching in the fall.
I said: Grade 3.
Her reply?
Why so low?
Gee thanks. But I get it.
The woman is a pundit and always has been. I should be used to it.
pundit def: a person who makes comments or judgments, esp. in an authoritative manner; critic or commentator.
Unfortunately, that was just the beginning.
She started asking me questions about my ex because she was "concerned for his well-being".
When I replied that I knew little about his current condition and did not know his whereabouts, she proceeded to berate me for not visiting him (as he is now bed-ridden due to MS). Then she pulled out a book of quotes from Mother Theresa, found a spot that was highlighted and read:
"Of all the illnesses and poverty I've seen, loneliness is still the worst thing of all".
You see, no one visits him anymore. And no one visits her.
Both are mentally twisted, both believe in revenge and holding grudges for all of eternity, both possess a superiority complex that makes the Nazi movement pale in comparison (no pun intended). As a result, both have successfully alienated everyone who loved them over the years with their words and actions.
And I mean everyone.
It's one thing to be mentally ill, but add insidious cruelty and you have a winning combination sure to discourage even the most resilient of visitors.
And both are equally capable of heinous violence. The only difference is that I experienced it first hand with my ex. And most of it was directed towards me. With my mother, it's all in her eyes. They're cold enough to send a shiver up the spine of the Abominable Snowman.
But my mom was adamant about how I should be more understanding. She raised an eyebrow and warned me that "God only accepts the merciful" and sealed my fate with authority as the personal pundit of Yahweh.
I smiled politely and patiently and said (only slightly sardonically I might add):
"I hear ya mom, and you know I don't wish him badly or anything, but I wasn't a big fan of taking those hits, so..."
To which she quickly replied,
"SO WHAT if he hit you?!"
...and proceeded to defend his honor.
That's right. My own biological mother chose my abusive ex over her own daughter.
Now at this point, I must make something clear. Some people have redeeming qualities but not my ex. There was absolutely nothing honorable about him. And to this day, there is nothing about him worth defending. It's that simple. And it's a fact.
He never worked, he never saw a doctor for his psychosis and to this day, he still feels justified and thinks his behaviour was normal, considers himself superior to the plebians in his midst and thinks everyone else missed the mark.
But there is beauty in all of this.
Now I finally understand why I got involved with him in the first place.
He's the male counterpart of my mother.
I could never fix my own mother so she could be a real mom because I was just a kid. But as an 18 year old girl, I figured I could fix someone who showed all the early signs of what she must have been like at his age - energetic, smart, full of big ideas and attractive, but arrogant and lazy.
You know, fixable potential.
There are still things I admire about my mom. The same as there always were. She's sharp (even if illogical), she reads with a vengeance and she's tough as nails. She won't let go of old stuff even if it kills her. Which is really too bad, because if she could she might stop hating everyone so much and that would improve the overall quality of her life.
But then again, it's probably what's kept her alive through three suicide attempts, years of alcohol abuse, pill popping, and that plastic surgery she had at the age of 72.
She's one helluva character.
When I finally looked at her with eyes wide open and realized that she was only defending my ex because she was sticking up for herself, I finally let something go...
I forgave myself for getting involved with a man who was beyond horrible and decided that I didn't need to beat myself up for that choice anymore.
It was over.
Another layer shed. Another shadow faced. Another riddle solved.
So when she kept at it, insisting that she needed his address so she could visit him, I finally said:
"Do you want me to take you to see him? Would that would make you happy?"
And when she nodded yes, I said, "I'll see what I can do" and smiled the genuine smile of someone who was finally released of the heavy burden associated with fixing the impossible.
Then I hugged her, told her I loved her and that it was time for me to go.
She gave me a necklace of black pearls from Tahiti as a parting gift, and walked me out, smugly thinking that she had just convinced me to be a better person and then rewarded me for it.
Little did she know, the gift she gave me was far greater than that...
Thanks mom...
