Long Goodbyes

I've read somewhere, about how Alzheimers is like "the long good bye." To me it's like invasion of the body snatchers, where the essence of your loved one is whisked away and all that is left is the husk of who they were. In a way I feel similarly about dealing with a parent with borderline personality disorder, yet, the essence of who they are is never whisked away. It's enough to make you doubt or wonder if there is or was anything good there in the first place. Perhaps there was something good, a nugget of their self, but over time cruelty and narcissism just erodes what good there was, and all that's left is the husk of the relationship. 

I vacillate between anger and wistful sentimentality, but wishing and hoping that things will change, or even ME CHANGING MYSELF OR MY REACTIONS isn't enough to make things as I wish them to be. The anger overrides everything. I don't want to accept THIS. THIS is not love. I am not perfect. I did not demand that I be born. I feel as if I were born to a reptile, born in captivity, with no life survival skills taught. Struggling to survive. Even still. Survival is more important to me than love. 

Granted, the longing is there, for a normal loving relationship, one I realize I never will have, but not for a lack of trying. But after years of trying, I've reached that point of the Diminishing Law of Return, where no matter how much time or money or energy or love or empathy I could possibly throw at the situation is going to change any aspect of it. Because she will take my time or my money or my energy or my love or my empathy and offer up nothing but regret in return. 

I love myself enough to limit my vulnerabilities, in doing so, limiting her access to me, my love, my joys, my life. But at the core of it all, I do not trust her. I do not love her in those sentimental "Mother's Day" card kind of ways people love their mother, but at a minimum, I love her enough not to be outright cruel to her. My good intentions and I cannot fix what is broke with her. Hell, I don't know if I can fix what is broke with ME. 

All I can do right now is just keep surviving. Just keep staying upright and above ground and moving forward of my own steam, and cherish those transient moments of happiness I can, because this life, MY LIFE, is short. I wonder and doubt if she's ever had these deep thoughts about US, about what's wrong with US, trying to fix us. All I know is she wants more, and more I cannot give. Therein is the conundrum.