BR,
I've told my T many times that I feel very guilty because I don't really love my mother. I want to love her, but what I feel for her isn't really hate, it's more like pure apathy. I feel guilty because I often wish she would get on with the business of dying, since she wants to so much. I don't want to end up being stuck taking care of her. I once came up with this idea for a book called, "My mother's dead and now I'm free."
I was raised with the belief that family is all you've got. My mother would always tell me I couldn't have lifelong friends because situations change and then you lose contact and you just grow apart. While that did happen with some people, there are others that I've had a realtionship with for years. Moving out of my parents' home and into my own place has been seen as a betrayal of family. I dared to give a name to my situation, calling it abuse. I dared to tell my mother she had hurt me, of course, she twisted it around so that she was the victim. In the four months since I've moved, she's told me that I'm just ripping our family apart, accused me of keeping her away from my son, and all manner of other things. That sense of hatred and dislike has only grown over the past few months. At least with NC, I feel like I can be myself.
My story is over on the stories thread if you want to read it. I've been going to update it, but I haven't yet.
