I was 68 the last time I saw my mother. I don't plan on seeing her again. She is now 94. I told her I would never come back. I promised myself I would never go back. I promised my children I would never go back. Why, then, am I thinking of going back to see that nightmare of a human being? I ask myself.
I read K's entire post. I think I understand completely why she goes back; or maybe not. We each have our own particular reasons. We each want a closure we will never get.
I never went to see my mother without my brother and sister-in-law there. It was safer this way. My mother loved my brother, depended on my brother, and mostly behaves when my brother is around. This time was different. This time they were on vacation. But, ok, I am an adult. I'll be with my husband. I can do this.
She sandbagged me.
She had been in her go to Jesus mode for a while. (No insult meant to anyone, her craziness in this matter is hers alone.). She was going to confess how she wronged me. What she did. I would forgive her. I HAD to forgive. If I didn't forgive her I wasn't Christian.
Well, hmm. Convenient for her, that my brother and his wife weren't there to hear this great confession. Just me, mom, my husband, and whatever deity she was counting on.
I am Catholic. She knows I am Catholic. Pretty sure that's a Christian religion. In fact, IMO, she is seeking forgiveness in the wrong place. She should seek it from whatever deity she feels is going to pass judgement on her, and that's not going to be me. I don't control the gates of heaven or hell.
She starts out by saying that she never kicked me out of the house when I was 17. She knows I am angry about that still. She knows I hate her for that. But she didn't do it. She never made me homeless in 1964 in California. When, by the way, there were two active serial killers in the area at that time.
I am puzzled, lol. Why is she asking my forgiveness for something she never did? She is, however, sorry for the other time she kicked me out. What? How many times did she kick me out that I don't remember. And I HAVE to forgive her.
Actually, I don't.
I started school at 4. I graduated at 17. She planned a trip for me to Los Angeles to see my grandmother for two weeks. I was packed, ready to catch the bus, walking out the door. She told me not to come back. What? Do not come back. You do not live here anymore. And out I go.
Later she says she thought my grandmother would keep me. What? My grandmother worked as a childhood nurse/caretaker of two small children. It was a live in job. My mother knew this. No way could I stay past two weeks with her.
Then mother says she thought my father, who lived in Los Angeles would take me. What? She knew my father had married the woman he was seeing during his marriage to her. (No big deal folks, after all mom later married the man she was seeing while they were married.). It was a complex life.
Just what my father's new wife hoped for, a 17 year old step-daughter to move in. Yup, not a chance. I did, however, meet my two year old half sister. Drop dead gorgeous little girl. All his daughters were born with blonde hair which turned brown or black around five. Me as well.
Course his wife was pregnant again. My new half brother would be born right before I left for basic training. Since this was dad's fourth marriage, I also had two other step mothers and each of those mothers had a daughter. And each of those daughters was severly abused by their respective mothers. Dad liked cruel woman. Dad didn't want daughters.
My time was up at grandmothers. I couldn't go home-didn't know why at this point in time. Figured it out years later when I was reading a magazine article. Duh me. What divorced woman wants a 17 year old daughter hanging around her boyfriend? Mine didn't.
Couldn't live with dad. It was three months before I was to join the army. I had to be 18. The street it was.
Except, for the first time in his life, dad came through. He spoke to the commander at the Los Angeles Salvation Army Home for women (You can google info on this place.). If I showed the commander my enlistment papers, he would make an exception and I could live there. And I did.
I read K's entire post. I think I understand completely why she goes back; or maybe not. We each have our own particular reasons. We each want a closure we will never get.
I never went to see my mother without my brother and sister-in-law there. It was safer this way. My mother loved my brother, depended on my brother, and mostly behaves when my brother is around. This time was different. This time they were on vacation. But, ok, I am an adult. I'll be with my husband. I can do this.
She sandbagged me.
She had been in her go to Jesus mode for a while. (No insult meant to anyone, her craziness in this matter is hers alone.). She was going to confess how she wronged me. What she did. I would forgive her. I HAD to forgive. If I didn't forgive her I wasn't Christian.
Well, hmm. Convenient for her, that my brother and his wife weren't there to hear this great confession. Just me, mom, my husband, and whatever deity she was counting on.
I am Catholic. She knows I am Catholic. Pretty sure that's a Christian religion. In fact, IMO, she is seeking forgiveness in the wrong place. She should seek it from whatever deity she feels is going to pass judgement on her, and that's not going to be me. I don't control the gates of heaven or hell.
She starts out by saying that she never kicked me out of the house when I was 17. She knows I am angry about that still. She knows I hate her for that. But she didn't do it. She never made me homeless in 1964 in California. When, by the way, there were two active serial killers in the area at that time.
I am puzzled, lol. Why is she asking my forgiveness for something she never did? She is, however, sorry for the other time she kicked me out. What? How many times did she kick me out that I don't remember. And I HAVE to forgive her.
Actually, I don't.
I started school at 4. I graduated at 17. She planned a trip for me to Los Angeles to see my grandmother for two weeks. I was packed, ready to catch the bus, walking out the door. She told me not to come back. What? Do not come back. You do not live here anymore. And out I go.
Later she says she thought my grandmother would keep me. What? My grandmother worked as a childhood nurse/caretaker of two small children. It was a live in job. My mother knew this. No way could I stay past two weeks with her.
Then mother says she thought my father, who lived in Los Angeles would take me. What? She knew my father had married the woman he was seeing during his marriage to her. (No big deal folks, after all mom later married the man she was seeing while they were married.). It was a complex life.
Just what my father's new wife hoped for, a 17 year old step-daughter to move in. Yup, not a chance. I did, however, meet my two year old half sister. Drop dead gorgeous little girl. All his daughters were born with blonde hair which turned brown or black around five. Me as well.
Course his wife was pregnant again. My new half brother would be born right before I left for basic training. Since this was dad's fourth marriage, I also had two other step mothers and each of those mothers had a daughter. And each of those daughters was severly abused by their respective mothers. Dad liked cruel woman. Dad didn't want daughters.
My time was up at grandmothers. I couldn't go home-didn't know why at this point in time. Figured it out years later when I was reading a magazine article. Duh me. What divorced woman wants a 17 year old daughter hanging around her boyfriend? Mine didn't.
Couldn't live with dad. It was three months before I was to join the army. I had to be 18. The street it was.
Except, for the first time in his life, dad came through. He spoke to the commander at the Los Angeles Salvation Army Home for women (You can google info on this place.). If I showed the commander my enlistment papers, he would make an exception and I could live there. And I did.