Mother and me, it’s complicated

When days are dark and it all goes wrong
We’ll  hum along to our favourite songs

They say, “That’s life!”
We’re born into this world with no book of rules
Welcome to the hard knock school
They say, “That’s life!
~ Remember When, The Parlotones

Yikes, so yesterday I was chatting to my parents on Skype (I live on a different continent) and my mom flippantly remarked that a growth on her hand had turned out to be cancerous but that it is all clear now…there was some minor surgery and nothing else was required, apparently this cancer is the kind that does not spread.

Now, I think the most important thing for me to say is I am glad that my mother is okay. I truly am.

But I am also pissed off. I do not think that type of information – the fact that you might have cancer is something that you keep from your daughter…especially when you are not the type of person to keep information to yourself.

And especially since, last year, I told her to have that hand and the growth checked out.

I am also confused. Because I guess there is a level of soul searching that occurs whenever the word cancer appears – and in this case the soul searching question was, if my mom died yesterday would I regret how I have handled our relationship? Would I have done things differently?

And sadly, I don’t think I can do anything differently. I do not know the reason why mom’s identity has become entwined with the concept that she must be a matyr mother, where I am such a terrible, evil and ungrateful person ( I do have a couple of theories, which ironically enough come down to peer pressure)

[Diversion: We managed to get a pretty decent relationship going at one point, and then her behavior changed…on later reflection it was when an old lady with her own daughter issues entered the picture, we will just call her L, for her own protection. This woman appears to be a sweet old lady, but she is in many ways a vampire…who sucks happiness out of people, in the guise of “if you just change one thing it will be perfect”]

But whatever the reason my mother is intent on not seeing me as a whole person. I mean, hell, I am definitely no angel. And to an extent perhaps my mother cannot cope with the fact that I reject catholicism as being the right religion for me, the fact that I reject other religions is insignificant. I don’t know.

As I have said previously, this is an uncensored dumping ground for my thoughts. Call it therapy with the universe. Just putting my thoughts out there. I am not pretending that I am a saint. Or that I have all the answers.  Hell, I don’t even know what most of the questions are.

But I do know that I am only willing to have relationships which have a solid degree of respect in them.

Do I slip up? Yes.

Does that mean I will stop trying to treat everyone with respect, compassion and love and kindness? No.

Perhaps, my mother has no idea how to talk to me. Perhaps that is why she didn’t tell me. It is difficult when people stop playing the role that you are accustomed to…so perhaps, it is easier to ignore it, than acknowledge change.

I have changed. My core values and my mothers behavior are incongruent. They are pieces that cannot fit together…I know that I can be a hellishly difficult person to be around. In some ways I am unflinching and I battle with the concept of forgiveness, of letting things go.

Perhaps that is an effect of my childhood, perhaps not. It does not really matter.

But I do know that I refuse to be a scapegoat, the cause of all of someone else’s problems, the root of their suffering.

And I guess that by disowning that role, by making that shift, especially unilaterally, I have created a situation that makes it difficult to deal with…and makes it a complicated and confusing relationship.

The really crazy thing is I actually have no idea how I feel about this whole situation. Part of me is angry. Part of me understands. Part of me is relieved. Part of me is resentful of the fact that this news was kept from me. Part of me has no fracking clue how I feel. Part of me is wondering if this is me looking over my shoulder and going what do you mean you have no idea of how you feel…surely a good person would feel x.

I guess it’s just me, and its life, and its complicated. There is no book of rules.

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