My Mother
I did say once that one day I would talk about my mother, today is that day.
I received a letter from her yesterday, she still hates me. On the outside of the envelope she made sure to write the words 'Trashy Bitch' in really big letters. Wasn't that lovely? My mail man must get a kick out of the stuff she sends. Zach's birthday card had 'money inside, please give to Zach' in chicken scratch handwriting across the bottom of the envelope. She wasn't very inventive that day, probably sent it out after taking her pills. (She easily takes 15 to 20 prescription pills a day.)
The story between my mother and I goes way back. She has hated me for a long time. Pretty much since I was just a tiny girl. Every fiber of my being knows that she has something very wrong with her mentally. I can't believe nobody has ever diagnosed her with anything. (considering all the damn doctors she goes to.)
Charlie wouldn't tell me what was in yesterday's letter. It must have been a doozey. I don't read them anymore, I get too upset. He usually reads them and relays any information that is useful. What town she's in now, how to reach the motel she's staying at, what her new ailment is.
I'm already having a hard time writing about her. I'll have to bring the subject up again another time.
I received a letter from her yesterday, she still hates me. On the outside of the envelope she made sure to write the words 'Trashy Bitch' in really big letters. Wasn't that lovely? My mail man must get a kick out of the stuff she sends. Zach's birthday card had 'money inside, please give to Zach' in chicken scratch handwriting across the bottom of the envelope. She wasn't very inventive that day, probably sent it out after taking her pills. (She easily takes 15 to 20 prescription pills a day.)
The story between my mother and I goes way back. She has hated me for a long time. Pretty much since I was just a tiny girl. Every fiber of my being knows that she has something very wrong with her mentally. I can't believe nobody has ever diagnosed her with anything. (considering all the damn doctors she goes to.)
Charlie wouldn't tell me what was in yesterday's letter. It must have been a doozey. I don't read them anymore, I get too upset. He usually reads them and relays any information that is useful. What town she's in now, how to reach the motel she's staying at, what her new ailment is.
I'm already having a hard time writing about her. I'll have to bring the subject up again another time.
@ 6:32 PM
6 Comments:
Its amazing that this happens in real life.
You are smart for just moving on and not reading the letters...
I like visiting your blog :)
Sherri, sorry to hear about your mom. My dad had some issues that I was not told about until after he died. I wish I had known before so that I could have better understood his behavior. Take care--thinking about you.
Thanks you guys, I appreciate the kind comments. :)
lbseahag, I like visiting your blog as well. I never know what I'm going to see next!
Kristy, I don't understand it either, believe me, I wish I did. One of these days she'll get her life back together, when that happens, I'll give her another chance.
Trée, thanks for the kind words. :) Unfortunately, for the time being, I think my mom's personal demon's are winning the battle.
IF you ever want to talk, I had a similar situation.
I posted a little something about my mom this morning, it's weird how some of our posting relate to the same stuff, even when not intended.
Bobby, thanks for the offer, I may have to take you up on that. Sometimes it takes someone who has been in a similar situation to relate to your problems.
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