They had to tell someone else to hug her when she started crying. I wouldn’t do it.
I realized today that I’m angry with my mother. I’m never angry. I realized this after my mother’s friends decided to have an intervention (I thought I was just there for dinner) to try and get her to break free of the toxic cycle she’s in with my father. I heard all of her excuses for why she should stay enmeshed with him, excuses that have been built up year after miserable year. She thinks she’s the one manipulating him, but she’s not. She thinks that I’ve been fine. That since I turned out okay that he must not have affected me very much. But he has. In ways she doesn’t know. She thinks that God wants her to stay in his life. She thinks he should stay in mine. He shouldn’t. He can’t.
And I’m angry with her. I’m angry that she couldn’t open her eyes long enough to keep him from doing what he did. And I’m angry at the realization that maybe she did know something but chose not to see it.
I feel like being angry isn’t the right thing for me to do. I feel like I need to forgive her or at least have pity for why she felt she couldn’t handle the truth. Why can’t I feel those nicer, more compassionate things? When her friends kept trying to challenge her beliefs, I just sat there, hating that I was angry. Despising myself when I realized I didn’t care that she was crying, because all I wished was that she would have noticed my silent tears more than 15 years ago. Who does that? What kind of person doesn’t care when someone else is in pain? Someone like my father. Is that who I am?
I’m so scared of anger. Too many bad things happened when people were angry. I can’t handle this right now. It could be weeks before I see T again to process this. Why did this have to happen now? Why did I choose now to feel this forbidden emotion?