Caught in her mother’s, mind games, and she hadn’t, figured, a way out yet, and so, she continues to, enable her mother in her, bad behaviors! Translated…
My parents were divorced when I was young, three, five………or maybe even, younger? I really don’t, remember, but I can’t, recall what “home” looked like.
I’d followed my father and stepmother to live for a while, in my, not happy enough but without the worries childhood years, and, in high school, I’d, gone to live with my mother, at the family home that she got, remarried to, and started, my not bright-colored, filled with dreams, teen. I think, it took me a lot, to make myself grow up fine, tried my hardest, to learn what exactly, this world is to, teach me, to learn about the relationships, the love, that aren’t, constants in my life, to get to know, what families, and family members, look, like.
Until I had left home, become independent on my own, started renting away, I’d started, trying to, understand the meaning of, family.
My mother is remarried, she’s taking care of her other family, I had three more siblings, and we’d spent the New Year’s holidays together, gone out, and gathered for meals. And, as my mother worked too hard, felt too bad, after she’d felt taken, and gotten drunk, she’d called me up, to pour her heart out to me, cried about how the home she now had, did not show her, enough, respect, the complaints came one by one: how bad the foods tasted in that home of hers, how she and her new families are having disagreements on the delegations of the chores around the house, the frictions she’d had with those family members of hers. Every time as I’d done hearing her, I was the one, getting too upset, because that is what I’d lacked, growing up! Then, I’d walked out of my place, like I was, getting someone back, went to my mother’s, home, with the words, sharpened like the swords, my eyes, sharp like the arrows, like I was, getting even.
But, who am I, getting even for?
Then, my mother would, switch her tone, and soothe me, told me that it was, all right, then, my anger made me into, an outsider of that, family, I’d turned into, that, outsider.
And, turned out, the hardest of the choices, wasn’t who I want to live with when my parents got divorced; nor is it, whether or not I’d answered the phones, to hear whoever was on the other end pouring her/his heart out to me. This difficult choice that God had sent my way, which side do I belong, in the realms of, family relations, so I can, feel, like, I’m not, the, odd one, out?
And so, this is how bad these parents are, they made their kids choose sides, and, this mother had, manipulated her own young, to feel sorry for her, by emotionally blackmailing the child, perhaps, to make her feel more important, like in the cases of Munchausen by proxy, to get the attention on her, and this child feel, too tired of all of this now, and still hadn’t a clue of how to stop her mother from doing this, and this child unknowingly, became, the enabler of her/his own mother’s, emotional blackmail.