The most wonderful time of the year, my foot!

 Do I write what I actually thought of Christmas or do I avoid it like I usually do. I just feel so horrible, guilty and ungreatful for saying that Christmas was awful, but what else was it?! I love my mom more than anything (probably more than my husband, but in a different way of course) BUT, she was so nasty to us…it was an exhausting week at home tip toeing around her and walking on egg shells. Endless hours of forced conversation. I don’t know what happened to make it turn the way it did, but I have some assumptions of course.

1)      My mom has lived alone in a very big house for over 3 years since my dad died. To me she seems like the last cookie rattling around in the cookie jar. I assume that she has settled into the thought and reality of being alone and has adjusted her life to reflect that. I’m sure having Rob & I there for 6 days was tough on her – she was out of her regular routine, had people and our “mess” in her space. I do ask the question though…why did she get so angry after only 3 days – did we really upset her balance that much?!

2)      Missing my dad…this must have had some effect on her behaviour. Christmas is a time of year that can either be so joyous filled with family and warmth or hold a cold magnifying glass to the fact that someone you love and lived for is no longer there. I missed him too – a lot, but it didn’t make me bust out the silent treatment. Scratch that…she wasn’t silent, she just had one word conversations. That’s worse.

3)      The garbage with my brother and sister-in-law (aka: Jeckell and Hyde) is still really bothering her and it was just one more holiday that she didn’t get to see her grandkids. Now, in actuality, I know this has a lot to do with the way my mom acted this week, but hello?… not my problem, not my battle, has.nothing.to.do.with.me  YET this is the 2nd Christmas that has been ruined by my brother and his wife without even being there!

The guilt I feel over being happy to leave Kamloops and come back here, the guilt for being angry and thinking nasty thoughts about her and her nasty attitude towards us, is eating me up inside, but it was bad. Really bad. The more often I go to Kamloops the more glaringly obvious it is that my mother is no longer the way she used to be. She’s bitter and angry and hateful. Rarely does anything positive come out of her mouth…especially after a few (or more) Rums or red wines. I’m fucking sick and tired of hearing about the fight with my sister-in-law from August 2007. I’m sick of hearing how awful my brother is for letting it happen. It’s not even because I think they need to be defended…because I don’t – they were total jerk to her, but I’m just sick of hearing it. Talking about it. Wracking my damn brain to figure out how it can be fixed. NOTE TO SELF: I cannot fix it, her, my brother, Michelle or any combination of those 4. I need to fix myself which I am working on so hard and looking forward to so much, and I need to remember that, that’s all I can do and that’s all that I can expect of myself.  It’s just so hard when this stuff comes up and these feelings surface. There were so many late night tears while we were there. Lots of Rob & I whispering how much we wished it was different. I know my husband loves me and was really trying for me, but the fact is, he’ll never understand how bound I feel to that mother-daughter relationship and all the requests to talk to her and let her know how she made us feel, fell on deaf ears. I can’t do that. Plain and simple. How would I ever live with myself if she hated me as much as she hates my brother right now. But I wonder…how can I live with myself feeling the way she makes me feel and not getting what I need from her. She tells me all the time that I am “her rock”. Without me she never would have made it this far. Maybe that thought I’ve carried around for so long that we take out our frustrations on those that love us the most because they will always be there is true in this case. I just wonder why she doesn’t see what it does to me. She knows about all of the challenges that I’ve been facing this year with my mental health, yet she still shits on my parade at any chance she gets. I need her. I need her to be my mother in the sort of way she never was. I want to be able to cry on her shoulder now without her getting mad or whatever else it is that she does. I just know that I will not spend another holiday, my precious vacation time, with her again, for a long, long time. I need to talk to my brother about this. What do I have to loose with him – I believe that he’s hated me all my life. So telling him to grow up and put on his big boy pants and actually talking to his mother and fixing this, will have no ill repercussions on my end. What’s the worst that could happen (aside from him telling my mom I went to him which would be the absolute worst) – he stops talking to me? Oh well. We have nothing to ay anyway. I’m going to let this week pass, get the last of the holidays out of the way and then, boy oh boy, is he in for the talk of his life.

May

be tomorrow I’ll write about the highlights of Christmas – there were a few. Far between, but a few.