It’s no secret that my parents and I do not have an active relationship. It’s no secret (well, maybe it is) that my father leaves scathing, incoherent comments on my blog posts. It’s no secret that I think they’re nuts.
My AC visited this week and we had a ball. It was incredible – there was no stress, no drama. We played, we rested, we made a fuss over the newest generation. She’s my mother’s oldest sister, and truth be told, I’m closer to her now than I ever was to my mother. Having a parent with borderline personality disorder makes it difficult to get close, let alone stay close.
Which is why it took me by such surprise to receive a voicemail message from my mother on the very day my aunt arrived. Actually, maybe not so much of a surprise – my mother has scary-impeccable timing. She’s just the one to turn an event has never included her into something all about her. My mother hasn’t called me in years, and I haven’t missed it. When I first heard her message, I didn’t recognize her voice. How’s that for ya? I never thought I’d be able to forget her voice – but there it was. Maybe it was because she had some fake southern accent dripping with long vowel sounds? I dunno… all I know is that her pleas fell on deaf ears.
As a mom, I realized a few things about my mother. I imagine for most women, that’s a positive experience. There’s an understanding – a common, coming to terms as a mother and a daughter. I figured out that the type of mother my mother thought she was, she wasn’t. It’s hard to acknowledge that your mom never loved you because she couldn’t love you. I struggled with that while I was pregnant… but I got through it. In the six years that I have removed their particular brand of crazy from my life, I’ve been healthier, happier, and more productive.
It’s hard to argue with statistics like that: six years (plus) of thriving. And the life I lead – the joy of it, the responsibility of it – is the very reason I don’t sweat their efforts to contact me. I won’t talk to them or answer them or engage. Despite their attempts to peek into my life (for instance, stalking this blog), my life isn’t a secret. I’m happy, I’m healthy, and it has absolutely nothing to do with them. They don’t get to take credit or assign blame; I’m not dealing with shame-induced pathology.
Sometimes I wonder if there will ever be an end to this estrangement. Then, I look at the comments, at the emails, at the absolute craziness that they pepper over my family and I don’t see an end in sight to their problems. I will never expose my family to that. Want to see me get all momma bear? I will protect what is mine with every cell in my body. It’s not a warning, it’s a promise.
So, sorry to blah blah blah all over your Tuesday morning. What do you get all momma bear about?