Based on the fact that she is my Mother, and wasn’t present in any way, shape or form throughout my youngest days, she has been glorified in my heart and my mind somehow; in my mind over time, she has morphed into some painted-faced Goddess with great power and control over my actions and sense of self; she continues to have the carrot to dangle before me, and I continue to focus on it and follow her lead.
She is my Mother, yes – but she is not right in the head, and never was – so I’m told…she never had any business having babies of her own with a head as twisted as hers – never had the stuff it takes to be somebody’s Mama. My Mother doesn’t really know how to care about other people; she is just hard-wired that way…some people call it sociopathy, others call narcissism; she’s a diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic – she has the history of getting way out there at times, if not medicated and monitored regularly by a “specialist”. She is aggressive and violently explosive in her mental instability; this is the trait about her that she has most impressed upon me throughout my lifetime in observation of her behaviors; she is ruthless when it suits her needs – I have bared witness to this many times, as well as played the role of her “victim” during such instances also.
I cannot trust her word – it is mud in my book; despite what she says, her actions always speak horribly louder than what she tells me. Anyway, our relationship is the epitome of awkward and edgy, because it newborn for the most part – I am only barely getting to know her, I’ve never made the effort in the past. She is a nut job, no doubt – and oftentimes, when I have a conversation with her, I find myself hardly able to control myself from just bursting out:
“The fuck are you talking about, Man?!!!”
I just can’t relate to any of the things that define the daily existence of my Mother, Willow…she is seriously on another planet in my opinion…all I can do is just shake my fucking head over it, I suppose.