My mother wont go home! She claims she needs to meet with the farmer and check the plumbers work but she doesnt want me to go stay in her place while she is here.

My sister thinks It is funny.

My mother is borderline. I love my mother but you better believe I hate her too. Its not fair to blame her for what she is. . She could not have been a real mother no matter how hard she tried. She doesnt experiwnce empathy. The closest ahe can come is to be triggered to remember a similar experience of her own. So...I said something about a doc who really got how traumatising It was for me to live with a man I loved who had serious ptad from a m.e. prison. I abreacted a little in the telling. I www surprised mom seemed touched, then she fries and tome me about my dad fui.g of copd. Hed had a bad moment Whn he couldnt breathe and asked her to help him. I was impressed by how closely her all about her story matched my story. It is as close to empathy as she can get.

She didn't cause me to have ptsd but I always wonder if the cared for girls I went to college with would have been allowed to suffer as i did or whether a real mother wouldn't have le me take a quarter off to do psychotherapy. Naturally I imagine a cared for girl would have called her mother to tell her and the whole thing would never have become ptsd

When I told my mom there was scary racism in the city she told me that's why I shouldn't date an African student because It would he my fault if he got put in a position where he had to defend us.

When I dated a man who dealt in antique carpets I had to say It that way because rug dealer rhymes with drug dealer and her anxiety extents to things that rhyme with dangerous things.

She's borderline. She blames me for crazy things. We were almost joking blaming her brother for everything, letting him be our scapegoat. Snowball did It. But she still projects in earnest. And out of the blue she spoke of her cancer and said as if in summation, "mine is worse". The look on her face was priceless, pure borderline peeve.

If It weren't for the hatred she has for me, It would all be cute and funny. But she hates me. She hates me for growing up in the house my father built for his girls. She hates me for having his slender build and being his daughter. We were watching home movies and one christmas dad was not smiling at the camera. I reacted to the unsmiling look. I felt mom react too. Uh oh. It wasn't a mean look. It was a serious intelligent. He wasn't playing along. There were times he was very angry. Me too. We had a right to be. We didn't have a wife/mother in our house. We had Medea the witch/waif. Sometimes she was unpleas
Send good wishes for my mother to go home to her nice elegant suburban home.