Does your mother know?

What? 

How it feels to live with her...

A life with a toxic mother? 

Nothing I would recommend.  

Not at all. 

As much as it is hard for me to say it out loud, it is true. 

Cruel, but true. 

Behind all those smiles lies something you cannot grasp as a child.

Once you grow up, suddenly everything makes perfect sense. Or not. 

A life full of gaslighting.

Full of lies.

Full of false promises.

Full of judging.

Full of making you a bad guy.

Full of sending you to a psychic clinic (exaggeratedly) every time a minor occurrence happens. 

Full of making fun of you.

Full of complaining in front of others.

Full of comparing.

Full of not respecting your boundaries.

Full of crying, screaming, and fighting. 

So that you can hear:

"You are overreacting as always!"  

" I did nothing wrong!

"I am your mother!"

"You have to behave!"

"Once you have a child, you will understand!"

"You are crazy!"

And the list could go on and on and on, but I am tired of it, so let's move on. 

Me on the other side? 

Trying to prove my worth, convince her, make her understand. 

Nothing, blank gaze. 

Just pretending that she cares. 

The moment you make her feel anger, in that precise moment, the mask falls away, and she reveals herself, her true colours. And her colours are not as colourful as mine. But she does not know that, yet. 

Those times, when she pretended that she understood my feelings, my struggles, "Do not worry, everything is going to be okay", she started to bring them up. Every. Single. Time. 

Making me feel so small, as if I don't belong. It feels like she is "stabbing" me right in the centre of my heart.  And so I keep repeating those words " I cannot trust her anymore" over and over again, until it does not hurt anymore, until there are no tears left in my glassy eyes. 

"Am I the reason? Am I the reason why she is not happy in her life? Did she give birth to me so she can blame everything on me?" Those questions bother me every time.

Ruined marriage? My fault. 

My fault, my fault, my fault, my fault, my fault, my fault, my fault, my fault, my fault, my fault.

EVERYTHING IS MY FAULT.

I am the reason why she cannot tell others how "perfect" daughter she has. Therefore, they cannot see the "perfect" mother that she is. 

She does not see me as a person. She did not see the light within me, which she had ruined years ago. She does not know the effort I am putting into talking about feelings. No, she sees the vision of a person she created in her head. I am not even close to that vision, and I will never be. It is so hard for her to swallow that simple truth. The truth is that I will never be the person she wants me to be, because it does not align with my beliefs and my soul. To please her, I would have to lose myself, and even though I might look like broke and weak, I am strong enough never to let that happen. 

NEVER. 

Because I recognise the pattern, once you are aware of it, it is so hard to pretend that everything is fine. I can see behind her eyes, I can see the truth. 

"There is nothing good in her", I am always telling myself when I am on the verge of a breakdown. 

"I hate her!", "There is no way she truly loves me." Those words are hurting me too, because deep down, I know I don't really mean them. Deep down, I know there is good in her, but she decided to show it to other people instead of her daughter. 

Anger. 

Anger is my answer. 

An answer that tells me: You still care about her and your relationship. 

Behind every "I hate you" hides " Look, I am here. I am standing here and screaming.

Trying, waiting, hoping that one day you will see me. 

Am I perfect? Without imperfections? Without scars? Without anger? No, I am not. 

I am far away from that, honestly. 

Sometimes I am even scared of myself.. Because what do you mean, I am allowing those thoughts to pop up in my head? Sometimes I do not even recognise myself. I hate this version of myself, the one she always brings up. Because what if that is really who I am? What if this is my true self?  I dislike being that person when I am around her. I do not want to hurt people. Not intentionally, not mentally, not physically. Because I have been on the other side, I know how much it hurts. 

I made a mistake. I let her control me once again. Instead of staying quiet, not paying attention to her words, I reacted. I gave her my power. Willingly. I screamed from the bottom of my lungs. I cried my eyes out. ( In case you are wondering, I am still learning how to let go, and it is not as simple as it seems, unfortunately.)

Why am I allowing someone to take so much control over me? Over my emotions and reactions? What happens when I am unable to control my impulsivity? Who am I without anger? Who am I without constant overthinking? 

The thing is, even though I can read her so well, I still do not know what to expect from her. It feels like walking barefoot on the grass, and somewhere, a shard of glass lies in wait, waiting for you to step on it. And you know it very well, but it still hurts the same.

I always say that there is a thin line. There is not just black or white in me, in us. However, I still have a choice.

A choice to be a wiser version of myself. 

A choice.

That is something we all have.

A choice to decide. 

Something I always have to remind myself. 

Their words do not make me who I am. 

I am not here to please anyone. I am here to experience my own life. 

With everything good and bad. 

With grey in between. 

She is a human being as I am.

So I have to let her.

Let her be. 

Let her navigate her life, too. 

Maybe I ruined it, but it was her choice to have me. 

It is not my fault.

IT IS NOT YOURS EITHER.

But it is our responsibility to heal ourselves, because no one else will.

There still is a choice. 

I am choosing to be unapologetically myself.  

I am quirky, clumsy, loud, quiet, shy, dramatic, sensitive, funny, intense, sad, angry, and a happy clown. 

I love myself to the fullest, no matter what she thinks.