Mom is Just Another Person
It's been almost two years since moving back home to help Mom out and it's been a terrible roller coaster ride. Everything that was never resolved before, has reared it's ugly head.
I've had to totally relive my childhood and teen years, with all the accompanying tumultuous emotions that our mother-daughter relationship entailed. Since I've lived here, she has resumed that dominant, all-knowing, controlling, demanding, critical parent role that prompted me to move out pronto upon reaching age 18.
She has put me through the wringer in her continuance to keep me in that child role. I have tried so hard to please her, in so many ways, since I've been here, trying, I suppose, to be that perfect child she always wanted.
After having contracted some serious stress-related conditions, I have come to stand my ground, and I no longer let her put me in that position. It's too bad that it had to take me to these health consequences, but I guess that was my wake-up call.
I realize she is still my mother, but I relate to her now as just another person. I notice how she speaks to me, the things she says, the demands she makes, the manipulations she puts upon me, and I don't take them in, I leave them with her.
How she treats me and speaks to me, is not who I am, it is a reflection of who she is. I'm not lame because she tells me to wash my hands, or pay a bill, or put on deodorant (yes! she tells me these things). She is lame for telling me.
These may seem like silly, inconsequential things, but it's just the tip of the iceberg. She would never take these liberties with any other family member or friend but she feels justified in taking them with me.
I moved home to get closer to Mom, to come to an understanding and love, but instead I've had to spend the entire time defending and protecting myself and it took me down. But it's brought me to this point, so I guess it all had a purpose.
Because I can let go now, there is no unfinished business, it is what it is, what it is. And I'm done with it.