It's probably a feat of dysfunctional social relations that I can be worried for my mother's safety one minute, and hate her three minutes later.
My mother and I have never got on. We simply don't like each other. My earliest memory of her is running in through the front door after a shopping outting, crying, and running through the living room, away from her. She'd made me cry. I don't remember anything else. I have another vivid memory, also out shopping. I was between 4 and 6 years old. We were walking through a mall, I was holding her right hand, she had on her big brown fur coat. I remember looking up at her profile and thinking "I have no proof she's my mother. She's actually a stranger and I don't know her. I have no idea who she is."
Most of the doctors, psychologists and boyfriends can magically pick up, in a matter of minutes, that I don't like my mom. It always used to amaze me; now I just tend to think they think I'm too into Freud and leave it at that. but it goes much deeper- I simply don't like her.
She's forced her Catholicism onto me since I was born. Always expected me to be Catholic, took it as a personal failure when I started rebelling. I was the "Child From God"- how else can a 41 y/o woman, who's been declared barren by 3 different doctors and has been trying to have a baby for 10 years, get pregnant? Yep, that's me, God-Kid. Like Jesus, minus the virginity, the virtue, the circumcision, the temple-preaching and the Aramaic. And a few other things, immaculate birth, etc. etc. How on earth could a kid like that turn against Mother Church?
(Watch me.)
So she always felt I let her down. But we didn't get along even before that. We NEVER got along. I hated her faking-it-up English phone accent, and how she always sounded worse on the phone when she was sick, and her fake smile, and how she always accused me. Like, just now, I asked her when she'd be done with the computer (I gave it up to her when she came in.) She said to be quiet because she wasn't done and I probably hadn't been doing anything important anyway, probably just listening to music and reading Pratchett. (I wasn't.) She projects all her problems with me onto my hobbies (much like I do with Counterstrike? Shut up.) She constantly gets in jibes about my fornication (I kinda thought that was between R and me, and frankly, "fornication" is a really ugly word for having sex before some old guy says God now sees you as married and I think if God was looking, He'd probably already see us that way, old geezer or no.) She attacks my weight, my clothes, my hair, my beliefs, my career choices, my jobs, my efforts, my courses, some of my friends, pretty much anything you can think of.
And it freaks me out when I see some of her traits in me. Isn't it every little girl's greatest fear to grow up to be like her mother?
I don't like her at all. But I do love her very much. The distinction matters.
She's gone to bed, and I have some peace and quiet. I think I'm gonna use it to go play Warcraft2 ;)
Readin' nuttin's, strangely.
Listenin' to "Hallelujah" (Jeff Buckley)
Thinkin' about Warcraft! And R.
Most recently I was 
