Continued:

I couldn’t love me (=care about my well-being), for half a century+, because I kept loving my mother (caring about her well-being), and her well-being was dependent on destroying mine. She used me to EXpress her misery and rage, to relieve the pressure within her, so to live another day.

She INserted her misery (through histrionic displays) and rage (through raging displays) into me, so that she could- temporarily- be free of that misery and rage.. so that she could get a relief.

For more than half a century, I kept loving the woman who used me in this way, used me as a repository for her misery and her rage, a receptacle, a container.

Misery and Rage Container is an accurate description of what I was about.

It takes a lifetime (a half a century+) to see this terrible truth as it is.

I can’t think of a more appropriate a definition of Enemy than what my mother has been to me.

That my mother was born a good, innocent little girl who was abused, terribly mistreated- before I was born– makes no difference to my experience of being a total victim of a vicious enemy, the enemy that the former innocent girl has become.. in my life.

I have never been as clear as I am this evening. It’s all so clear.

She is old now, and every time I thought about the physical age-related aches and pains she must be going through (I haven’t talked to her/ seen her for over 11 years), I used to feel pain for her being in pain, every single time, until this Tues, June 4, 2024. The strangest thing happened this evening, for the FIRST time in my life: I smiled when I thought about her being in  pain.

I want to clarify: if it was up to me, she wouldn’t be in pain at all; if it was up to me, there would be no war, no violence in the whole world. But since it’s not up to me, the thought of my mother in pain- for the very first time in my life- made me smile.

I can’t believe it, this has never happened before!

What a strange, strange thing: the smile just happened, and I didn’t feel badly about smiling!

It reminds me of the smile she had on her face right after she shot a few shaming, hurtful words my way, uncensored; equipped with as much shame- ammunition as possible; that anticipatory smile, anticipating hurt and shame to be registered on my face, anticipating it with pleasure, the corners of her mouth going slightly up. Waiting for my pain; My Pain= Her Pleasure.

I was never able to wrap my mind around it: that my pain meant pleasure to her (No, it can’t be, it’s impossible!). It can be. It happened to me.

It’s such a horrible truth, but truth nonetheless. No more doubting that mild, anticipatory smile on her face.

To be continued-

anita