I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before but I am currently not speaking to my mother. We haven’t spoken to one another since Mother’s Day. Honestly, since I’ve stopped speaking to her it’s taken so much misery and stress out of my life. I know what you’re thinking. “How can you not speak to your own mother!?” It’s easier than you’d think. She put me through hell as a child and my entire adulthood I put her through hell expecting an apology and remorse. The ugly truth is she wasn’t remorseful at all. She sent me this ridiculous email one day about how I’m a worthless child and I don’t appreciate anything she’s done for me and how I should be paying for her to retire by now (she’s only 48). She gave me an ultimatum. I could either change who I was and be “a better person” according to her, or I should stop talking to her.
Well… you know at first this email sent me spiraling into a hysterical fit. I cried for over an hour and probably reread that nasty email 20 times. Then it dawned on me. I spent my entire childhood crying over this woman. Crying when she hit me, when she harassed me and called me names, crying in fear that she would come upstairs when she got home from the bar that night instead of passing out in bed. In this moment, I decided I didn’t want to cry for her anymore. So I emailed her back a quite lengthy novel precisely depicting every single detail I could remember from my childhood. I told her I was sorry I wasn’t the “daughter she raised me to be.” Honestly, I don’t know if she even remembers raising me at all, she spent almost 80% of the time drunk off her ass anyway. I pointed this all out to her, spelled it out as if she was a child. I told her she doesn’t get the option to give me an ultimatum and then I gave her one of my own. She could either stop being the woman who raised me and start being a human being, or get out of my life forever and let me try to be normal.
I haven’t heard back since then.
At the start of December I started feeling annoyed for the coming “joy” of Christmas…. but as the day approaches I’m finding myself to be a little bit excited. I realized every Christmas I’ve ever had has been about my mother. How I didn’t get her a good enough gift even though I was 8. How she’d get so drunk that she’d take me yawning at 11:00pm as disrespect and slap me for it. If I didn’t stay up with her so she didn’t have to drink alone then I was a rude child. How if I wanted to open presents on Christmas morning after being beaten on Christmas Eve I was a fake bitch who didn’t care about her mother.
This year I don’t have to be ensnared in my mothers sick twisted Holiday games. I get to just breath. I can just have a Christmas with my family and enjoy the season. It’s snowing a little bit outside… a light dusting but for some reason this is the spark that ignited the excitement in me. Am I obligated to have contact with my mother my entire life? I honestly feel like getting her out of my life was like removing a tumor. My life isn’t perfect now but it has certainly improved.
I’m not usually a Holiday person but… this year I’m starting to be.