There’s a book called mommy dearest about an abusive mother and I used to call my mother mommy dearest as a teenager and she hated it. I liked to needle people. I still do. Hence this blog.
My mother likes to talk to others about my struggles.
She wants pity.
She’s told people she feels bad about what those doctors have done to me, how much she loves me, etc.
It’s for attention I assure you.
That woman has not been to a single family therapy session.
She hasn’t gone to any mental health support groups.
I’m sure we can match up the dates of her large monetary donations to penn crew with the texts when she told me she couldn’t afford to help me with therapy or medical bills.
She bailed my brother out of jail and kept a lawyer on retainer.
I broke no laws.
I’ve never been arrested.
So Carol, show me the receipts where you gave a damn.
Show me the receipts where you helped.
Show me the receipts where you parented.
Show me the receipts where I wasn’t screamed at for nothing.
Where you didn’t make dinner for yourself and my brother and leave no leftovers when I came home from crew. I never asked why didn’t you make extra? I lived off frozen stauffer’s mac and cheese for years and you used to scream at me for waking you up when I microwaved it.
Where I wasn’t your therapist at 9 years old.
You told me about the divorce 2 years before you did it. We were in the den and you said you couldn’t do it anymore and you were crying and I hugged you and said mommy it’s going to be ok.
Where you didn’t comment on my weight.
Make everything a competition.
Where you thought housing me and educating me was actually fucking parenting.
And then in the worst recession since the great depression, when I had lost everything that meant anything to me after college, wouldn’t let me move back and told me to figure it out.
You told me Kevin was abusive.
But when the fuck did you show up for anyone but yourself?
I remember the phone call where I confronted you, and your words.
“Well, we didn’t ask for you to be this way”
Coward. God. Damn. Coward.
Laughs and Lobotomies 