As you can see, it’s been awhile since my last post. It’s been a huge mental block for me to get over this roadblock of writing about her. The basics are that she grew up in the midwest with many sisters and one brother. They are a loving family and nothing like my mother. I’m not sure where she comes by her interests in life because it’s obviously not from her relatives. Her primary motivation in life is herself. I’ve never met (and hope not to) someone more self centered and driven by her own means than this woman. Her children were certainly never her priority. That much is painfully obvious over the course of my life. She only helps me when it serves her best interests. Yes, she has helped me over the past year since my divorce. My view on her is not very high. It used to be higher before I became a mother myself. My opinion of her has steadily decreased since then. These are all things I will delve into as I go along further into my blog. I believe it’s a mother’s responsibility to protect her children from any and all threats, especially if that threat is the father. She did not do this. I’ve always had issues with her not protecting me from my father’s alcoholic rages. I blame her for this. I will come out and blame her openly on many blogs I post. She should have protected me. She didn’t even try. She would just watch and listen. And never once did she ever try to intervene and try to stop my father from beating me or my brother. She failed us miserably. And not only did she not stop him, but she also used to beat us herself. It was not as often as my father. But it still happened. I remember. I wish I could forget. I cannot forget what she did to me. I was a helpless child. I was her helpless child. I was her vulnerable child. And I was not protected. I spent my childhood in fear of this woman. That is not the memory you’re supposed to have of your mother. I feel envious of those other people who had the mother who loved and cared for them. It’s hard for me to know that there are people out there who love their moms no matter what. They are lucky people. I have not been so fortunate and that’s what this blog is all about. This just scratches the beginning of my complicated relationship with my mother. Do I love her? Not really. No. She doesn’t deserve my love after all she’s done to me. She has never once said the words “I love you” to me. She has not shown me in words or actions of her love for me. Some people can’t say those words and I get that. But they show it by their actions. I have never gotten those actions directed at me by her either. It’s painfully obvious the woman does not love me for who I am. The thing she cares about is the image of having a good relationship with me. Everything is about how things are perceived from the outside world with my mother. Image is everything to her. It is her primary motivation for her life and her marriage. It doesn’t matter how poisonous the inside is as long as the outside perception is untarnished.