When the Triggers of Hell Begin, Find Compassion

Sleepless. Woman mother got up 11 times give or take, shining light in my face, bathroom, wheeling the walker. I can't sleep anyway under normal conditions, I slept not a wink, in spite of taking half of yet another pill. 7:30 appears in front of me scowling - I am hungry. Make food. My nightmare has begun. I try to reach into the recesses of where I am most holy not this child that I was conditioned to become - the essence of who I am. All my buttons including those yet not invented pushed. In her *being destroyed* crying on the phone from nursing home - I tried to the right thing. Honor. Honor. Now I am reverting to self-destructive behavior. I am now drinking wine at 8 am and already took a pill just to cope with whatever next she will throw at me.

Already heard the usual. The berating, criticizing, the bow down to Queen, not one positive. Not one good word. Actually when I began talking to her when she arrived she said: *you should be paying me a thousand dollars for having someone to talk to.* Thank you Mother woman who bred me. Thank you once again for substantiating the feelings I've been carrying around for 49 years, the self annihilation, the inability to formulate relationships and the depression, insanity and suicide idealization all inherited from your good self.

I do believe now that this is the Final Showdown before God. Yes indeed. Thank you too God for showing me what I already knew and for inflicting me this woman called Mother onto me for so many years. The years of torture, the years of hatred, the years of being wounded daily, the years of being screamed at, bullied, pushed, pulled and mocked. Thank you. For I have merited this obviously and without it I wouldn't have become the person I am now. Regardless of how this measures up to *normal*.

I am so fucking tired. This is erev Shabbat. This is before Rosh Hashana. Amends. Amens. Preparation. Food. I just literally want to sleep forever and have this gone. I have already made up my mind that I must take care of myself. She has options. I don't. She can either go home or go back to the nursing home. I've not been involved in any of her life for so many years. She decided where, how - whatever. There was a phonecall whenever. I was just trying to do the Honor Your Parent. Nothing more and nothing less. Would I kiss my tormentor? Would I house my torturer? Not if they were not blood related. But in this case, I have.

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