A Note On My Mother

I have realized in the less than 12 hours since I screamed at my mother and asked her to leave my house for insulting both my husband and just about every person we know, that my relationship with her hasnt changed much over the years.

And here it is.

We all have that one friend. Someone that if we met at this point in our lives, wouldnt really be our friend, someone who at some point in our lives you had so much in common with that you were so close, that now you can't not be friends... but realize you have little left holding the friendship together other than the fact that your friends. That is my and my mother. Always has been, always will.

I would generally say that no one can upset me like my husband can, and no matter what he does I still love him at the end of the day. I guess the same can be said for my mother, becuase while I think my side of the situation was right today, I'm sure she sees her side just the same way. And once again we're at this place where we are so close, but can be so different, and hate each other so much.

I will say this about my mother. My mom rather, I guess I only refer to her as my mother when I'm mad... as if some other word is to follow. I envy her sometimes. She has never seemed like someone to be walked on. In my portion of her life that I can remember, she never takes no for an answer, and is always willing to fight for her children or for what is right. Today, at the moment when I hated her most, I felt most like her. It was an odd sense of peace, an odd balance in the world. For once I was the one standing up like she'd taught me. Little did I ever expect it to have to be against her. At least not about this.

And now I get to sit here in bed and worry that her drive back home was safe. Worry about her work and her car and her life. Becuase as much as I envy her, I know I would never have the strength to be her... and sometimes I wonder how much longer she'll have the strength to be herself too.