is this really it?

i know, it's dangerous to spy on my mother through her blog. (that's what i'm really doing.) she wrote something yesterday that summed up the harshness of my decision to cut her out of my life. "ah, but i have no loved ones left."

the child in me screamed "yes you do! i'm right here!" in my head immediately after reading this.

the rational adult in me calmly responded "you do, but they cannot be close to you."

all of this brings me back to how i feel at the moment. do i love my mother? this is the question i have felt guilty to even examine. yes, of course i love my mother. yes, it kills me almost every day to know that she is aging, alone, far away, and poor. it kills me to think that she spends her holidays with strangers and the comfort of church groups that are probably just putting up with her out of politeness. it hurts to know that she is having as much a hard time of this as i am. and the guilt - the incredible guilt that i walk around with on my shoulders. where is my compassion? where is my soul?

but this person, far away, aging, alone, and poor, is not the mother i remember from my (happier) childhood. she is the person that has the ability to turn me into jelly. make me hate myself. give me heart palpitations when she has my phone number. harass and stalk strangers. harass and stalk beloved family members. harass and stalk me where i work. this person has no internal point of reference for "crossing the line." she reduces me into a pile of ash. she paralyzes me with fear, anger, and yes, even hatred. even shame.

when i step out of myself - out of my little life, and float above - the weirdness of the relationship between me and my mother seems fictional. who could cut their mother off? why am i doing this? am i just punishing her? i don't think i can rationalize it to anyone, really. it's hard enough sometimes, like tonight, to rationalize it even to myself. what would happen if i contacted her? no, no i can't. i know the implications and the consequences. because as hard as THIS is, having her in my life is even harder.

don't i deserve happiness? don't i deserve a life lived for myself, and not for providing emotional support to a mentally ill woman that refuses to take the medications that could help her? i think i do. i think i'm worth it. damn it to hell, but yes, here i am screaming that i am being selfish. i am trying ever so hard to put myself first - before her, before my family, before my career. this effort goes against everything i've ever known. my entire life has been to care for my brother, my father, and their emotional well-being.

but putting myself first is still proving tricky. the moment i start to succeed, i knock myself down, and the self-hatred begins all over again.

and then i come here, and post all of this, and somehow feel well enough to fall asleep without crying over my mother's lamentation that she has been cut off "like an amputation - a diseased member that has to be cut off to save the body." in her blog, she was describing me and my brother as the diseased part. but i know it's both of us on each side - it's a toxic relationship that won't help either of us heal in the end.