happy mother's day you filthy animal

[omaewokorosu]

I know tomorrow might not be easy for you...considering you lost your mother...

This is actually my second Mother's Day without her. I did nothing last year after she refused to acknowledge my birthday with anything more than a hastily scribbled note on the fridge white board. No card, no gift (like cheap chocolate or something else cheap), nothing. Said everything without even opening her mouth what she thought about me.

So, to pay her back in kind, I did nothing for Mother's Day. I'd thought about getting her a card but when they all talk about sacrifices made and cherished memories and love all wrapped up in some grotesquely saccharine mass-produced Hallmark card, I wanted to fucking vomit. To watch people bring these cards to self check or one of the lanes I was at caused bile to rise. Most people have good mothers who deserve flowers and a card, but not mine.

It would be one gigantic farcical lie in a too expensive card if I bought one. So I didn't. I didn't buy chocolates or any gift either. I was in my villain era now, beyond the "I should be a good kid and do nice things for Mommy" thoughts that were tied up in fear and obligation and guilt. Not to mention it was Serena's first one without Eileen (her mother). So neither of us felt like doing anything.

I'm sure Egg was sore about it. I wish I could say I cared. None of the cards or the gifts meant anything except obligation anyway. Emptiness.

My thought process is, more or less, if you wanted to be celebrated, you should've been better as a mother. Instead of giving the barest of bare fucking minimum, you could've actually given me more. You had the money even though you lied through your teeth; you enjoyed parading me around to everyone as a charity case because "poor thing needs new shoes/clothes/a winter coat but we can't afford it" and my friends' moms always bought it hook, line, and sinker. The problem is, you DID, I repeat, you always DID have money. You just never wanted to spend it on anything important.

So you never spent it on me for things like basic necessities such as clothing when I was in high school. Like a mattress when my bed broke--you wanted me to sleep on cushions and blankets on the floor like I was a fucking dog at 17 years old because $60 was "so much money" YOU didn't want to spend. And like a dog, I was still filled with unconditional love even though getting any ounce of affection meant jumping through hoops on fire. Even then these morsels of love were nothing.

It taught me when I was young that no one wants to love me unless I can be of use to them. That's how I've been conditioned and subsequently abused. Not just by my mother but by others. Betrayal after betrayal after betrayal.

I was told by her, "Well I'm wearing threadbare clothing myself so we're all just gonna have to make do!" As if any parent in their right mind is okay with their kids having less than what they had or have. But meanwhile she'd had six figures stashed away for a rainy day that never fucking came. Half a million dollars stashed away practically but getting my 15 year old ass things like socks and sneakers was "pushing the bank"??

They'll end up taking the house and we won't have cable or electric or anything!

She always spoke about all the sacrifices she'd made. Sacrifices, what fucking sacrifices? You didn't sacrifice anything of yourself, you asked for others to do that for you, you sacrificed your kids instead and you fucked them up. You refused to get a job and probably got off on your martyr complex and watching your kid suffer.

You told me when I was a senior in high school that I was worthless. Useless. A good for nothing. That I would never amount to anything or be good at anything. I would be a loser, probably homeless, likely a drug addict turning tricks out on the streets. That's what you saw "the best thing that ever happened (her words not mine) to you as. To say this about a kid who stayed out of trouble, never hung out with the so-called "bad crowd", graduated near the top of their class...? With utter contempt and hatred behind those words? It doesn't even make sense. It goes against nature, in a way.

Did you actually want me to end up that way so that you could cry crocodile tears over how far I'd fallen? "Oh where did I go wrong in life for my kid to end up this way???" as everyone pats you on the shoulder going, "There there, honey, you did your best"??? Meanwhile the truth is so much more sinister.

Why the fuck should I waste my time celebrating "the best mother ever" when that wasn't! ever! her?! Because narcissists always think they're Parent of the Year as they cover up the "worst" in front of it. I don't care how mentally disturbed she was, that's an excuse and she could've gotten help and treatment for that, but she refused and said she was fine and nothing was wrong, just the kids are ungrateful.

The amount of mental problems I have you'd think I was deeply fucking disturbed, the major depression, the DID, the CPTSD, the god knows what else I have so much shit I can't even keep track anymore but it all stems from the trauma growing up with this woman as my parent and I treat people with respect when they deserve it and have earned it. I try my best to choose kindness, to put myself in the other person's figurative shoes, to be as compassionate I can be in a world that is so fucked up and cold.

You know. The opposite of her. When you meet me, you know exactly what you're getting. I don't lie to make myself look better to you. I don't need to impress anyone. But she always had to be this "perfect person", this "selfless old woman". I don't need to tell people who I am or what I am about. I show it through my actions and how I treat people.

There are excuses as to why someone is an abusive piece of shit. But they are just that. Excuses. Me with my past I should be treating everyone like shit and being the world's biggest misanthrope and yet I am not. Why? Because I've seen the worst the world's had to offer me. I've watered gardens with my tears and watched beautiful things bloom and come to life and thrive because I nurtured them. I have created wonderful things with my own two fucking hands. Things she not once appreciated.

I choose to be kind whenever I can. Even to those who honest to God don't deserve it. I held out longer than I ever should have and completely wrecked my mental health to make that woman happy and it was never enough and you know what? I had to pick myself. For once in my goddamn life. Or I wasn't going to be alive anymore. And if you think I'm being dramatic about that, my arms and legs can tell you all sorts of stories about how many times I didn't want to be around anymore and I'd tried my fucking damnedest to be gone.

One of the things I find interesting is whenever I see two cardinals, a male and female, I wonder if she's not allowed to visit without some sort of escort. Which would make sense if I'm honest. Visiting this plane of existence after you leave it is a privilege, not a right. Gotta make sure she doesn't fuck something else up or fuck someone else up. I don't want visitations from her. My dad, my nan, my MIL, they are always welcome to fly in and take a look around.

But not her. Why should she see me thriving when she tried so fucking hard to destroy me all those years?

Tomorrow I'm going to remember all the wonderful women I've had the pleasure of meeting or have otherwise had in my life. My Nan. My mothers-in-law, and sisters-in-law, my aunts and cousins. Women who are like mothers and aunts and sisters to me. All strong, all beautiful, raising or having raised strong, beautiful families.

Last night was date night. Every Friday night my wife and I take time together as a couple. Try new foods, new recipes, a fancy dessert. Paint things, do puzzles, watch something special. Whatever. It is deliberate time to ourselves where we can stay up late, drink if we want to, and enjoy each other. We've been rewatching Gundam Wing. Got through episode 13, where Heero says one of his "famous" lines: "The only way to live a good life is by living through your emotions."

For the first time in I don't know how many times I've watched this series (it's a lot), I actually sat there and listened to the words coming out of Heero's mouth. Not just reading the subtitles and having things go in one ear and out the other because I know everything by heart by now. No. I listened.

The only way to live life is to be human.

The only way to live a good life...is to be human. More or less.

What does it mean to live a life through your feelings, your emotions, all of your sweet, sweet sentimental thoughts? To trust your gut when a situation presents itself as unsafe that you'll run. When you see someone hurting, to be compassionate, empathetic, and kind to them. To feel and be allowed to feel the full spectrum of emotions and sit with them for a little while before tucking them into the pages that make up the chapters in the book that is your life. That is what Heero has been trying to teach me for the past 20some years and I finally, finally understand.

Sometimes you have to listen instead of just read.

Unfortunately some people, like Egg, lose touch with what it means to be human, and aren't able to find their way back. Some who are lost remain lost.