Too much emotional abuse.

It’s harder and harder to fight for someone you love when they’re the ones beating you up.

I love my mom. Probably too much. But tonight, she showed me a new side of her. She showed me how much her depression and anxiety and maybe PTSD is winning in her mind. We tried to have a family conversation and she misconstrued everything both my Dad and I told her.

We told her we loved her. We told her that her standards that she has for us, along with her laundry-list of chores for us (and not herself), is too much. It’s difficult living with her when she barks orders at us all the time and then isolates herself to her smoking room with her cigarettes and her drugs. She’s making less and less sense. She’s getting more and more depressed. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help her.

Dad and I are doing all that we possibly can do, but it’s not enough. She cannot see our perspective; perhaps she’s choosing not to, but it hurt tonight.

It showed me that my mom can be wrong. Dead wrong. And I may not be able to get her, my own mom, to see my perspective without her cloud of judgement that she lays on top of my words or my actions.

None of this will make sense to readers, but for my own sake, it has to be written down, otherwise I will never be able to sleep tonight.

I may never be good enough for my mom. My dad may never be good enough for my mom. My mom’s own fucking life may never be good enough for my mom. But, after she left angrily from the conversation (to smoke a cigarette because everything comes second to substances for her), Dad told me sometimes I need to do what’s best for me. I can’t please everybody and it’s my life. Mom wants her bills to be paid on time and her house clean and that’s it. It stems from a whole life’s worth of issues of not feeling good enough in her own mind.

Dad is right. I know I’m good enough in my own life. I know the progress I’ve made and the progress I continue to make. I know I am human. I know I make mistakes and have faults. I am sticking to my plan.

Every day I try to do what I can to live the life a person should: be respectful to others, forgive, ask for forgiveness, and remember that this life is precious, make the most of it in the way you want to make the most of it. Live YOUR life.

Mom is not living her life. She doesn’t like her life, so she’s trying to live other people’s lives for them.

Little does she know, every word she flings at me hurts so much. And she says things in such a demeaning way. I don’t know if I’ll ever meet her standards, and I have to be okay with that. I have to focus on my standards.

I have to focus on loving myself. I’m not sure who else is there to love me.


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