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Saturday, December 6, 2008
. . . had a fight
with my mom on the phone just a few minutes ago. I feel like a fool. . . why would I fight with my 81-year-old mother? I don't do it often, but about once or twice a year all the pent-up frustration comes spewing out and I make an idiot of myself. I yelled at her on the phone, for crying out loud. How stupid of me.
Adjectives to describe my mom (at least this morning): unhappy. . . suspicious. . . passive-aggressive. . . guilt-inducing. . . entitled. . . My sisters (who read this blog) and my sisters-in-law (who don't) can probably add a few more. We are all subject to her dysfunctions at one time or another. The only person who does not suffer her wrath is my daughter, Stef. . . we call Stef the daughter my mother never had (although she has three.)
If my mother wasn't my mother, I don't think I could be friends with her. And the sorry thing is I can't be friends with her now. . . she doesn't want that kind of relationship with any of us. She wants to be revered. She compares us to the children of her friends and we always come up short. I personally would like to know what makes that woman tick, what forces shaped her into the person she is today. I understand some of them and I really try to see things from her perspective usually. But I don't think children ever have a complete picture of their parents.
Anyway, I've let off some steam. Of course, nothing is resolved and I feel really awful about the whole incident and I'm sure she's sitting at home stewing about it, too, but she doesn't want to talk about it any more, so once again, we sweep everything under the rug and pretend everything is fine and dandy, only of course we know it isn't. Aren't I too old to have this problem? I sound like I did in high school.