The Lost Weekend

Oops, I did it again.

The weekend can not end soon enough. I pray that in my fury that I do not suffocate her in her sleep.

She is my mother ans she is old. She is not weak but she surely does not possess the vigor of bygone days when she was capable of rearranging my face and breaking my bones. My bones have healed but there is a larger part of my being that has not. In a way, I could almost see myself forgiving her. We are told that forgiveness is the first step towards the healing process. There is that one great boulder that stands in my way: her inability to acknowledge her treatment of me.

When I confront her, her thin lips curl into a malicious smile, as if she would like to humor me but cannot. She states, and rather firmly that she did nothing of the sort, and by the way, where did I ever get such an idea??

My sisters, do you know what I am talking about? Do you hear me?

It is her mental illness, her borderline personality disorder that allows her to believe her own lies with such fervor. Her belief in her own greatness is unshakable and I am amazed at the strength of her conviction.

It will take me a few days to recover from the physical, mental and emotional effects of having my mother in my home. I purify my environment by burning sage. It will dispel the negative energy and cleanse the air. Tomorrow is another day and I move on. I have too.

I'm a mom.