My mother has never been the one to take control of anything. She does it on purpose. If she doesn't take control then she cannot be considered responsible for things falling apart. The problem with this is that she will not allow anyone else to take control either. She relishes in the role of "helper" which would be helpful if she didn't insist on doing everything her way.
I do take orders well. I tend to follow processes whichever way they are designed. My mother struggles with these things because she doesn't like being told what to do. She also wrestles with the idea of not always knowing what is right or best for someone else's life. This weekend I endured constant badgering about my relationship with the Scorpio. It resulted in me yelling at the top of my lungs that she should let it go because it's. never. gonna happen. Just never.
She told me that I needed to take notes on Nat's current relationship stressors because I would find myself saying these same things when I finally found someone. I, not so kindly, informed her that I would never take notes from Nat and that if Nat had any sense she wouldn't take any queues from mom. I also reminded her that I have lived with three different men in my life and managed to keep all of my stressors from her because she is always less than helpful.
Like the time this past summer when I was dogged by a particular group of friends. While I sat there at her kitchen table crumpled over in tears, she gave me one pat on my left shoulder. Her advice? "Don't cry. There's no point in crying. Now you can stop hanging out with them and find a group of people that are worth something. I never liked them anyway." This came complete with that half-hearted, half-assed, all-condescending pat on the back. I remember it feeling so cold that I wished she hadn't bothered to touch me at all.
She went on about my drinking, my cooking, my baking, my control issues, my dog. She demeaned my career path and how I went about finishing my degree. She called me ungrateful for walking away from a scholarship that "[someone who is not my mother] fought very hard to get for [me]. For what? A boy? Heh". She relentlessly gave her opinion on topics of which she has no knowledge and made me wonder in earnest why I bother to come around.
This was all put on hold briefly when I received a phone call from my dad. He was working all day. Our talk was brief and she wasted no time telling me how sad she was for me because it seemed like he really wanted a relationship with me before and now it had been reduced to almost nothing.
I hate this time of year. With Thanksgiving, my birthday, and Christmas coming in such rapid succession, I feel exposed to more ridicule and back handedness than any one person should have to endure in a 30 day window. Am I wrong in thinking that it's ok that I don't get the one thing I requested for my birthday? Everyone knows what I need but when you ask what I want, I'll tell you. What I don't expect to hear is, "Well, if I get you that it'll be for your birthday and Christmas". I don't expect to hear that because no one else in the house has to hear that. No one. Ever. I've watched her give away netbooks. In September. Just because.
I don't know what I'm trying to say. Scratch that. I do know what I'm trying to say. What I'm saying is that I hate my family. There have been many days when I've prayed that I could start over. I spent a good chuck of my life trying to get married so that I could legitimately have a family of my own. I know that I can't make them better people and I can't yet walk away. But when the time comes that my promise has been fulfilled, I'm gone. I did it before and my soul was never more at peace. I hate the feeling of being bound to them. More than you know.