Boundaries and Choices

I haven't posted here in ages. I had to take a break from this, from the searching, from the complaining and the angst and hurt.  Enough else in my life to occupy my time.  I had the house in town to maintain in addition to this one, and a toddler who needed full time care among other things, like clearing up the ruins of another's life once again.  

I got tired.  More than average tired.  Deep down inside tired.  So, I quit. I stopped seeing Mama as frequently, using the excuse that I had the 2-year-old who is now 3 and about to turn 4.  It was enough to balance my marriage with full time childcare and the despondency of his mother.  

I've struggled with this hard distancing of myself from my mother, but I needed to do this.  I had to reset my mind, my mouth, my heart so that I wasn't in a constant state of bleeding from wounds, complaining long and loud about her, examining self and struggling with the tangles.

What I came to, beyond the guilt, was a place I dislike but I find rather pleasant compared to all that has gone before: disinterest.  I don't care if she takes digs, I don't care if she doesn't love me, I don't care.  

This week a cousin that I haven't seen in a few years contacted me.  She wanted to bring her Mom down to see Mama.  I debated this.  I almost didn't give the address and phone number to her.  I don't dislike these relatives in the least.  

My issue had to do with not wanting Mama to paint me in a bad light when they do visit.  And then I thought of how much she'd enjoy seeing them.  I seesawed for a half day on this matter.  Suddenly I saw very clearly that I can't control what Mama says or feels about me, nor how she sees me.  She can't even see herself clearly and through that haze she cannot possibly see anyone else clearly, either.  

I realized suddenly that it wasn't that important.  It's not important how those family members perceive me.  I don't see them.  I don't deal with them.  They reach out on only rare occasions, mostly due to the ages of her mom and mine.  Before long both of them will probably pass.  Her mom is 91.  My mother is 87 and ignoring her health issues on purpose, another thing I cannot control.    When they are gone, who will even remember me anyway?

I'm so tired of being on the defensive.  I'm so weary of justifying my actions.  I'm done with trying to explain her battery of lies and my truths.  It just doesn't matter enough to continue that fight.  I'm not ever going to change her mind or make her see the truth of us.

I sent the text, complete with address and phone number and hope they have a lovely visit.