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I was thinking about the liars that have no conflict in it. My mother. I used to think she altered her perception of reality but now I don’t know. If I add up all the stories, how they supported her motives, manipulated people to think how hard she by she is, all of it. She didn’t like one of my siblings and said some of the cruellest things about. These things aren’t true if babies or small children. I should have known she said awful things about me, lies. If I ever wondered about something that didn’t add up she attacked me or created bigger stories, so talented in deflecting all responsibility, twisting and turning. Or rubbishing me so I was in disbelief she could say such things or think them when they were so untrue.

Hmm. Liars.

I’ve been trying to understand my biological mother’s anger and nastiness since reading the things you have posted.  As I wrote that I realised that I’ve spent my whole life being understanding of her meanness and this is me finding another way to excuse her.  I’m not going to try to understand anymore!  I sometimes catch myself thinking of trying to reconcile with her, but I get stuck at the beginning of these thoughts, because I didn’t instigate it and I don’t know what to be sorry for.  I don’t know what to humble myself over.  I tried when she first cut me out of her life and got nothing in response.  I apologised for everything even though I hadn’t done anything, just because I was terrified of losing her.

I will tell you a little thing though, something really horrible that I did.  It was a year and a half after she cut me out of her life.  She did something really mean and underhanded and it got back to me.  So I sent her an email:  I wish I had never loved or trusted you.

I felt so evil after I sent it.  So mean and nasty and dreadful.  The worst human in the world.  I still do to some degree.  But I am aware that it’s the most honest thing I’ve ever said to her.

She did me a huge service cutting me out though.  I don’t have her judgemental criticisms and meanness hounding me every day of my life.  I don’t have the woman who told me I didn’t deserve to have my children, and they should be taken off me, in my life any more.  I don’t know why she thought I didn’t deserve them, but I imagine a lot of the things she said to me were to make herself feel better about leaving her children when they were tots.  I have only just started being able to look at the things she said without thinking they were true and feeling like I was the worst human in the world.  She said so many things that were lies and manipulation.  Why would a mother do that to the daughter she professes to love more than anything?  Only in the last couple of years am I starting to see that maybe she was playing us all.  She used to have my sibling over for tea a lot which hurt because she never had me or my kids over to tea.  One day she said to me that sibling lied about that and she never had sibling over for dinner.  Only she had just finished whinging about sibling going there and drinking all stepfather’s beer, and eating all their food, which is definitely something someone can do when they never had dinner there?!  Plus sibling would brag about the lovely dinners she cooked when sibling got home.  Why would she play games like that with her own children?  That isn’t love.

I loved my mother for who I wished she was – actually somehow managed to look at her and see my dreams, not who she is.  I made so many excuses for her.  Good bye to my mother also.

My mother used to tell me she was being punished by God for leaving my father, so she couldn’t leave her current husband, for fear of more punishment. She used to say, ‘He won’t live long though because he puts so much salt and butter on his food, and he already has deadly high blood pressure. He’ll die and ill be freed from this.’

Over 30 years later and he’s still alive. Just a little bit of funny to add to your day. Totally aside from the humour I see in that, I felt like a spectator watching a horrific crime and doing nothing about it, when I was young listening to the hours of her speaking like this. I felt so guilty and churned up, but those hours were the only hours I felt like I meant something to her, guilty evil hours where my mother was focused on someone else.

I turned myself inside out trying to tick all her boxes so she’d love me, or even approve of me, or at the very least not yell and degrade me. I made mistakes in my life obeying her instructions on what I was failing in; mistakes that so far I’ve failed to fix. But not many people believe who she is because she’s very different with others who don’t fall into the inner most later if the onion.

there were other people there, guests, she looked at me with hate, a wanting to see me hurt, but not having the opportunity (being that there were guests there) to make me hurt. Oh, how deprived she was, my poor mother.

I am not being cynical (or sarcastic, whatever the word is) in typing what I just typed above: part of me feels sorry for her for not being able to express what she felt, having to hold it in.

To love someone who hates you…

Your mother was not poor, she was nothing to feel any sympathy towards whatever, just a horror. I relate to loving mine. I’ve never asked myself if she loved me though. My awareness was how much she said and did things that hurt me, that she thought of me as the lowest of the low, and no matter how hard I tried I never made the grade. Like yours she had her public persona. I loved it when people visited because her mood was nice. She ignored me, but I didn’t notice that, I just felt better when people visited so I wanted them to visit more.

Sorry I’ve not exactly adhered to the above. I should have said this prior to it. I’m not exactly good at not responding. And I really wanted you to know your mother sucks.