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Thursday, June 27, 2013

The Mother

1) Today, she sat me down and reprimanded me for giving attitude to her the other day, which is dumb as hell considering she started yelling at me for asking a question, which then in turn got me heated and prompted me to defend myself. I had absolutely forgotten about the mini episode until she unnecessarily brought it up and twisted the story. She told me that I in fact was the one who started yelling because she was only "speaking loudly." I very much had the capacity to spit back and call her on her bullshit, but as my blood rose, I chose to nod and feign agreement, excuse myself to shower and cool down, and just play the submissive daughter to let all the shit slide and keep the peace.

2) I hate her racist and fucked up tendencies. The way she is so unabashedly disgusted by (specifically but not exclusively) blacks, Latinos, and the adults I work with in Medford make me want to hate her. I'd like to say this to her one day, but we'd probably never have peace at home again...  Some days I see her as more mentally crippled by her small mind and discrimination than my clients are by mental retardation. She hasn't supported my involvement in AFH or RHD since I was 14, even though they are two of the few things in this life that have kept me sane.

3) My patience is wearing thin these days. I'm doing my part at home in terms of cleaning, cooking, domesticated woman type shit, and I'm at the shop and working for her at her every beck and call. Still, I'm getting verbally pounded regularly. She can only use her illnesses as excuses for so much longer.

4) I look at myself in the mirror every morning, so it is therefore fucking unnecessary for her to comment on my skin daily. I dislike my face enough as it is, and as much as I want to rebel against her by loving myself and my every flaw, it's so damn hard to. I'm slowly trying to just say fuck it and take baby steps like ditching foundation, but then I go through my day hearing in the back of my mind her constant nagging over how shitty my skin is. What she says about the rest of my body is a whole 'nuther issue. 

5) As sick as she makes me feel some days, a part of me can't ever stop loving her. Days where I work at the shop are so painfully tedious and unfulfilling that I start feeling unstable when I imagine working there up to six days a week for nearly twenty years. And yet, that's exactly what she's done. It's a sacrifice I'll never permanently lose gratitude and respect for.

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