After spending any amount of time either speaking with my mother on the phone or visiting her in person, I am left with the over-whelming realization she's just given up on life. Why else would being housebound be the default? She cannot even walk from her recliner to the front door if someone knocks on the door. She just doesn't give a shit, because people are still bringing the world TO HER, as if we were all her servants.
The idiotic thing here is the fallacy that doing nothing and giving up is the easy route, the path of least resistance. Hell no. It just makes doing whatever you are able to do THAT MUCH HARDER. And the less you do, ultimately, the less you will continue to be able to do.
Her body is jacked up because her doctors neglected her, and SHE neglected herself. At some point she just said, "Oh, hell. I won't bother anymore." She just up and quit DOING AND BEING.
It takes consistency to not go down that same slippery slope. But what other recourse is there? Do nothing and become, essentially Pizza-the-Hut from Spaceballs? A sloppy, insulting hot mess?
Everything I am is 100% in opposition to everything my mother stands for.
Everything I am is 100% in spite of every slight, every insult, every single time my mother has interfered with my life.
Whatever successes or happiness or love or whatever I have in life, is self-made. Beyond her making me and incubating me (for her own selfish reasons), everything I am, is mine and mine alone.
Fuck her.
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