Why did this make me breakdown? It didn't take long for me to realize that I've never felt defended or protected by my mother. In fact, many times, I was just a tool to be wielded to make some boyfriend of hers happy. And let's be frank, what I needed protection from mostly was her boyfriends (ironic, yes?). They were truly a parade of losers: from pedophiles to angry stoners - my mom could really pick 'em. (Oh, by the way, my Dad was the king of her losers, so here's to him.)
And when a scared little girl wants to feel safe but those closest to her are actually dangerous, she exerts control over the parts of her life she can affect. Thus... my control issues. Better than they used to be but still there serving their purpose.
I still long to be protected. The world is a pretty scary place. And I question how to best protect my own children. Not wanting to go to the other extreme, I've tried to land on some middle ground, but frankly, it's messy. I know (and so do they) that I'd rip someone's head off who tried to hurt them but sometimes they tell me that I don't pay enough attention to their boo-boo's.
My mother is completely to blame for the wierdos and misfits she invited into our lives. She's weak but not malicious and common sense has never been her game. After years of spitting anger at her, I've settled into a distant fondness that works as long as we don't slide too close to my memories and her denial ("I did my best. What more do you want from me?" Oh please.)
But the dream of her sprouting claws and growing teeth and eating the predators alive still lives.
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