For Thanksgiving, my mother cooked most of the food and brought it to my house for dinner. The deal was I was to cook for Christmas. So, I called mom, verified that she was still coming and set of to purchase and cook.
I cooked food for about 8 people, even though I knew there would only be 4 of us eating dinner (holiday meals are no fun without leftovers). I had to be at work at 6 AM Christmas morning, so I cooked a little 2 days before, then most everything else on Christmas Eve. Whatever I did not cook, my daughter finished on Christmas while I was at work.
I called my mom's cell phone at 4:30 PM on my way home from work, got her voice mail and left her a message. "Hi Mommy! Merry Christmas! The food should be ready, I am about 5 minutes away from home so I hope you're on your way. OK, see you in a few minutes, I love you. Bye."
My mother NEVER called me back.
Not only did she not call me back, she did not come over for Christmas dinner.
She did not call the day after Christmas either.
My mother called my house on Wednesday, two days after the holiday and said:
"Hey. How long have you been up?"
"Well, all day."
"Oh, well, I'm gonna come by and drop some stuff off. I will see you later."
When she arrives, she offers no apology (which at 38 years old, I know better than to expect) and no explanation. I still have not even heard the words 'Merry Christmas' from my mother.
She is all grins like nothing happened.
So she puts gifts down.
I give her the gifts that have been under the tree for the past 2 days. I finally manage to calmly say, "We missed you on Christmas."
She says " Oh, I went with Sister to one of her co-worker's. He has a nice house. We had prime rib and duck with orange sauce. But, I didn't try the duck. It was really nice."
I am standing in my living room in front of my mother and daughter and I want to tell her to get out of my house. I want to know what the fuck is wrong with her and I want to ask her why she could not have told me that she really had no intention of coming to my house for dinner.
What did I do to her that spending Christmas with strangers was so appealing?
What the FUCK is that about?
I felt embarrassed. I look stupid looking for my mother to arrive at my home for dinner and she doesn't show up.
No, this is not about how it looked.
It is about how I felt.
For quite some time now I have felt that my mother has no use for me. I mean, yes, she's proud of me and loves me. She knows if something happened I'd be there for her. She knows she can trust me to do any financial transactions and would give her my last. My only purpose for my mother is to be there for her in case she gets sick.
Actually, to be perfectly honest with myself, she could leave me.
I mean, how low on her list could I be if I did not even deserve a phone call.
And, yeah, I know....WAHHH! Right? I am crying like a little baby, but FUCK!
I am talking about my mother.
I am angry.
I think I am fair to be angry.
But it becomes unhealthy because I am angry with myself. How many times will I allow my mother to just do whatever to me and I accept it?
How long am I supposed to remain open to her?
How am I supposed to trust my feelings to her?
How do you only close the gate halfway?
I am kind of an all-or-nothing kind of woman. You're either in or your out. I trust you or I don't.
But with my mother, I love her, but I don't trust her.
I wanted to push the issue and tell her that she hurt our feelings by blowing us off for Christmas, and I did not. I knew that it would just lead to an argument.
But, what did I really avoid? I mean, I am angry with her anyway. I don't want to see her or talk to her. I am just LIVID.
She never apologizes. I have never gotten a straight apology from my mother. Her apologies are always Pyrrhic victories--you win but it costs much more than you would ever gain. What would be the point in that?
I feel like I did as a child, just so frustrated by her and like I belonged to another mother. I just had to belong to someone who had real feelings and empathy.
OK, maybe the name of this posting could be childhood. or depression. or anger. I recall now my first depression. Winter 76/77, we had a tragedy in the family, my uncle died in an apartment fire. We all lived in the same building. We came home from shopping for a Christmas tree to find our building fully involved and no one could get to Uncle Lawrence's apartment. That winter and spring I was withdrawn and sullen.
I was clinically depressed at 8 years old.
When I tried to talk to my dad, my mother would shush me, because he was grieving his brother.
When I tried to talk to her, she would not hear me or I would not be able to find the words.
I felt so very alone. I wondered why no one wanted to know about me. I wondered what was wrong with me.
Some days, like Christmas evening, I wonder, what the fuck is wrong with me that my own mother would rather be anywhere but here?
This has offered some clarity. Maybe there is more to my Seasonal Affective crap than just daylight and chemicals? Maybe I need to figure out how to leave the gate partially closed. Maybe there are reasons for my insecurities and feeling less than.
I won't go all Freudian and blame everything on my mother, but hell, I can see that there are some issues that I used to pass over as 'how she is' or even worse 'i just get a little sad', but there is more to it and I deserve to be honest with myself and see the whole picture.
Whatever it holds I am finally ready to see it all.
And by all means, if my viewpoint is askew(or in any other way: all off*, all wet*, all wrong, amiss, awry, defective, fallacious, false, faulty, flawed, inaccurate, incorrect, inexact, invalid, misguided, mistaken, off, specious, spurious, unfounded, unsound, untrue, way off, wrong number ), please tell me.
I was wished courage for Christmas, I think I could use it already.