The Great Darkness

The last time I spoke to my mother, she had just left a message on my voice mail praising my brother’s unequal extraordinariness, even though he has not uttered a word to her in almost twenty years. Despite the fact that she knew very well that I despised him, that he molested me as a child, which in my opinion should taint slightly his merits, and that he was a violent person even to her, she found it appropriate to leave such a message to me. It is useless to say that after a long day at work and excruciating new shoes, it was like getting a brick across the forehead.

That night, I finally lost my cool and called her back in the mist of a raging mood. It was time to set some things straight. The moment she answered the phone, I had become murderously calm and cold. I told her to never, ever, ever again leave such a message on my voice mail or even dare to talk to me about him if she intended to maintain the slightest of contact with me and I hung up before she could say anything. There was no room left for negotiation or interpretation it was as clear as a threat can be. I don’t mind her loving him, after all he is her son, but I need not be the one she shares it with. Especially when I know this feeling is not extended to me. I have never had a good relationship with my mother but on that day, it no longer mattered to me. Her love was no longer worth the pain, the effort, the humiliation. The craving times had passed. It was simply too late. It didn’t matter anymore. She did not matter anymore. I was finally free.

Yesterday, months after the fact, I called her. On a human level, I can appreciate that her life kind of sucks. I was a little edgy as you can imagine, but I don’t think she noticed, she was essentially focused on what she had been up to – not much – but repeated at nauseam, it may seems like a lot. She is very good at re-writing the past, at enhancing her role as a mother, but most of all, she is excellent at blaming. Blaming life, karma, heavens, children, ex-husband, solitude, and most of all: me.

I was listening to her distractedly while watching TV, when she started again on my utter ungratefulness for refusing to move back closer to her so that I could take care of her as she gets older, just like she had done for me as a child. That’s when I lost my cool all over again. First of all, she never took care of me, as a child or else and second; it was her job as a mother. Even if I was so stupid as to consider such a move, she would treat me like a servant, devoid of any gratitude. Of course, this sudden burst of hostility was the perfect excuse for her to point out all my flaws and wrongdoings.

You want – me - to remind you of all that – you - should have done differently as a mother? You wanna talk about all these things you are conveniently shuffling under the rug, as if they never happened? Because if you want to get into this, I have a long list for you, a foot long. I am sure you would rather not have this conversation right now or most likely ever, would you. …Wounded silence… Yeah, I didn’t think so. I’ve got to go now; we’ll talk again sometimes in the New Year.

I was so close to snapping. A mere comment on her part would have pushed me over the edge. She has spent a lifetime trying to make me believe and everybody else around that I was crazy, disturbed, aggressive, a lunatic who ultimately did nothing more than disturb their otherwise perfectly fine lives.

My mother has always assumed the position that nothing has ever happened to me, but that if something had happened, it would have been my own fault for provoking it, and chances were I had probably been the one who molested my big brother in the first place. I was simply jealous of him. If I ever was to breach the silence surrounding the – subject -, she would never validate my grief. She would dismiss it as a craving for attention. My brother was the golden child, the untouchable, the son. I was nothing. I was a girl, a Jezebel.

It may not be the most enviable situation I find myself into, but at least, I managed to secure myself a nice and peaceful Christmas time and perhaps the New Year will witness the end of the Great Darkness, mine that is.