Thinking on the Past

I used to wonder how you got to be the way you are. It seemed to happen overnight. I went off to college...I came back to visit...and you were gone. This thing had taken your place. I was even told before I left that you were a selfish, borderline insane bitch. And the person that said such was subsequently removed from my life. Now upon closer inspection, I wonder if they were right. Like you don't really notice a loved one has put on weight if you live with them. But if you go away for a while and come back in a few months and they've put on 10lbs, it's totally obvious. Or when I am looking at family photos and wondering how the hell my kids got so big so fast. Maybe it was such a gradual change, that I never really noticed it until I left for a while. Maybe you were always this way. Which is hard to believe because I don't want to think I was capable of loving someone so evil and heartless. Maybe your weren't and there was a trigger later in life. But in talking to others who have been here to witness what I missed in college, that trigger would have taken place when you were my daughter's age, and I still thought of you as a sweet child then.

All I know is a change did occur, in you and in me. You are not who you once were, that much is clear. And whether that change happened all at once or over your lifetime doesn't really matter. The end result is the same. Stop telling everyone I hate you. The truth is so much worse than that. While it is true that I do not love you what-so-ever, I do not care enough to hate you. I believe that to hate someone, you have to hold some sort of respect for that person. You have to care what they think, or feel about you in order to have such a strong emotional response towards them. But I don't care, that's the thing. I know what you are, how you act, and the lies that spew from you like sewage, and I have accepted that that is who you are. You are nothing to me, so I have no cause to hate you. I am even getting tired of hearing about how horrible you are becoming. It is not my problem anymore. I escaped. If no one is willing to do anything about it, or even confront you on it, then why bother bitching about it? At least I tried. Now I don't have to anymore. Maybe they should wise up and do the same. Maybe you will change your tune when you realize that no one around you could stand to listen to it anymore and left you alone. Maybe not. It's all wishful thinking anyway. Abused people rarely ever leave their abusers, and you know how to drive your slaves better than Hitler.

Mom thought of the day

Today I nearly caught my death from a plastic donut. While transitioning between taking the dogs out and starting lunch, I happened to step on the cursed thing. Apparently plastic on a wood floor is the equivalent of wearing socks dipped in bacon grease. Luckily, as usual, I managed to regain my balance and land clumsily on my feet about a yard from my stumbling point. Of course, this mild distraction led me to completely forget it was lunchtime and I spent the next few moments in an infuriating haze in the kitchen, wondering why I was headed for that room in the first place, before my sense returned to me. How you forget you're hungry is beyond me. It then occurred to me how absurd it would have been to have broken my neck slipping on this thing. My obituary would read "Local woman slips on poorly portrayed plastic pastry." This is how you know you need to do something with your life. When this is the most interesting thing to write about.