It's now up to 38 days with no contact with mom.
It takes a lot of fortitude to do nothing. It's not easy, especially with all the shit programmed into me, with "shit" being defined as all the demands, expectations, and of course disappointment.
Part of me wants to talk to her just to get it over with; however, the list of topics or things I'd share with her, dwindles daily. There's not much in the way of relatability left.
Her cognitive distortions continue to expand at an insulting rate for the rest of us. She continues to tell outsiders that we all are just waiting for her to die.
And without the actual interaction, all I am left with are my thoughts and the flow charts in my mind of how any possible future interaction with her might end (not good).
All my life she's done this PUSH-PULL thing where she pushes people away, isolates herself, cycles through feeling isolated and alone and lonely, then externalizing all of that angst into playing a rousing hand of The Blame Game, wherein she blames all of us for the decisions she's made; and then she sets about trying to PULL us back in. All, of course, when it suits HER.
I think upon the voicemail she left last week, devoid of joy or other positivity which might actually induce or facilitate a return telephone call. I think upon how my life is as it stands right now (peaceful). I cannot help but feel and look upon her voicemails with resentment, resentment of her intrusion in my life, resenting how she expects and demands time or caring (or any thing else, tangible or intangible), and I think upon how very little (if anything) has been reciprocated from her.
It takes a lot of fortitude to do nothing. It's not easy, especially with all the shit programmed into me, with "shit" being defined as all the demands, expectations, and of course disappointment.
Part of me wants to talk to her just to get it over with; however, the list of topics or things I'd share with her, dwindles daily. There's not much in the way of relatability left.
Her cognitive distortions continue to expand at an insulting rate for the rest of us. She continues to tell outsiders that we all are just waiting for her to die.
And without the actual interaction, all I am left with are my thoughts and the flow charts in my mind of how any possible future interaction with her might end (not good).
All my life she's done this PUSH-PULL thing where she pushes people away, isolates herself, cycles through feeling isolated and alone and lonely, then externalizing all of that angst into playing a rousing hand of The Blame Game, wherein she blames all of us for the decisions she's made; and then she sets about trying to PULL us back in. All, of course, when it suits HER.
I think upon the voicemail she left last week, devoid of joy or other positivity which might actually induce or facilitate a return telephone call. I think upon how my life is as it stands right now (peaceful). I cannot help but feel and look upon her voicemails with resentment, resentment of her intrusion in my life, resenting how she expects and demands time or caring (or any thing else, tangible or intangible), and I think upon how very little (if anything) has been reciprocated from her.
