Currently I am on my way to visit family in Florida (a.k.a. God's waiting room). I'm only half-way there and I'm already annoyed. (layover in Charlotte at 3AM my time...hate you, red-eye) I so don't want to be here. I want to get back on the plane and go home, but guilt is plastering me to my seat. Guilt bought my ticket. And guilt drove me to the airport.
My main hesitation of the trip is my mother. She is crazy. And she is old. Although I'm attempting to appreciate the fact that she will not be around forever, and that I should enjoy spending time with her while I still can... I cannot help but think that this "well spent" time might lead to her untimely demise ...because I might actually kill her.
My mother is Jesus-crazy. Before I go off on this tangent, let me say that I am a huge fan of the first amendment and I whole-heartedly believe that everyone is entitled to the free exercise of his or her religious beliefs. However, the first amendment also extends to me and my choice for you to shut the fuck up and not shove said beliefs down my non-believing throat.
Perhaps the reason this makes me so angry is the fact that Jesus (Santa too) was used as a weapon while growing up in my household. Here's an example (we'll start with Santa...because it's Christmas): I was 4 years old and kicking my feet as my mother was attempting to dress me for preschool. Rather than asking me to stop, she suddenly snapped, "I saw Santa looking in the window when you did that. You're not getting any presents this year." (...see why I've been in therapy since age 19?) This applied to anything religious as well. I remember asking at age 8, "Mom how do you know the bible is right? Wasn't it written by men, not God?" ...Her response? "You're going to hell!"
My mother's inappropriate use of Jesus resulted in me trying to be perfect until college. Then I said, "fuck it." The fear had not entirely worn off, but since I could not live up to the impossible expectations, I stopped trying. Unfortunately, Mom's behavior has not changed, because I heard her tell my three year old neice (who was running around the house naked asking, "Where's my mom? Where's mom?") that if she didn't put some clothes on, her mother was going to leave her and never come back. Zero to 60. No filter. No thought as to the affect of her words on little hearts and minds.
As I learned in therapy, my mother's behavior won't change. I can only change my reaction to it. After close to 40 years, I think I finally get this. As a result, this Christmas I bought my mother a track suit and some Nikes - so that she can take advantage of the next opportunity to join a cult. And for myself? This will be the last family Christmas for me. Next year -- some Mexican resort...a 23 year old...English optional.
My main hesitation of the trip is my mother. She is crazy. And she is old. Although I'm attempting to appreciate the fact that she will not be around forever, and that I should enjoy spending time with her while I still can... I cannot help but think that this "well spent" time might lead to her untimely demise ...because I might actually kill her.
My mother is Jesus-crazy. Before I go off on this tangent, let me say that I am a huge fan of the first amendment and I whole-heartedly believe that everyone is entitled to the free exercise of his or her religious beliefs. However, the first amendment also extends to me and my choice for you to shut the fuck up and not shove said beliefs down my non-believing throat.
Perhaps the reason this makes me so angry is the fact that Jesus (Santa too) was used as a weapon while growing up in my household. Here's an example (we'll start with Santa...because it's Christmas): I was 4 years old and kicking my feet as my mother was attempting to dress me for preschool. Rather than asking me to stop, she suddenly snapped, "I saw Santa looking in the window when you did that. You're not getting any presents this year." (...see why I've been in therapy since age 19?) This applied to anything religious as well. I remember asking at age 8, "Mom how do you know the bible is right? Wasn't it written by men, not God?" ...Her response? "You're going to hell!"
My mother's inappropriate use of Jesus resulted in me trying to be perfect until college. Then I said, "fuck it." The fear had not entirely worn off, but since I could not live up to the impossible expectations, I stopped trying. Unfortunately, Mom's behavior has not changed, because I heard her tell my three year old neice (who was running around the house naked asking, "Where's my mom? Where's mom?") that if she didn't put some clothes on, her mother was going to leave her and never come back. Zero to 60. No filter. No thought as to the affect of her words on little hearts and minds.
As I learned in therapy, my mother's behavior won't change. I can only change my reaction to it. After close to 40 years, I think I finally get this. As a result, this Christmas I bought my mother a track suit and some Nikes - so that she can take advantage of the next opportunity to join a cult. And for myself? This will be the last family Christmas for me. Next year -- some Mexican resort...a 23 year old...English optional.
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