Idealism and Resentment

     Today is my mother's birthday. I made her a little origami rose in a little origami box - that was the best I could muster. Woke up still hearing that I want to die - the usual intrusive thought that appears when I'm gloomy but doesn't mean I feel suicidal - and when it was time to eat out I didn't have the insight to hide my genuine reaction of "I don't want to go, I'm relieved I get to stay home". Well, we're still going out at night so it wasn't the main event for today, but after they left I was worried she got upset I didn't even bother to pretend I was happy to spend time with her. Well, I'm not. She and stepdad bicker a lot so I have to mentally leave my body everytime we spend time together. Thankfully she isn't acting upset with me, but I feel like she is a bit gloomy as well.

    "I woke up depressed" is what my mother said to me with a weak smile this morning. Because she's 61 now, she said. I think it's normal to feel upset about your birthday as you grow old, but everytime I hear the word "depression" from my mother's mouth, I feel some intent to garner sympathy. It probably doesn't even come to her mind that when I was depressed, she let me handle it on my own, so I feel a little spiteful she may intend to fish for a caring attitude if she tells me she feels "depressed". "How many years of your life did you lose to depression? How many times per day do you think of dying?" - I feel like asking her, but I will never. Maybe she really is depressed, what do I know.

    My mother is 61. She's old, frail and clueless. Why don't I sympathize and get my shit together for her? What else could I want from her? What I think I wish I had was aknowledgement, that I would be able to express my standing point without being dismissed before I can even finish the sentence. I wish I had boundaries, that I had the right to stand my ground and not let her walk all over my space, without being accused of being difficult or selfish. But even if I don't have that, I have all the material things I could need. But it is not enough, is it? Why is it not enough - I chastise myself. Why can't that be enough. Well, because it is... Simply not enough. Not for anybody with a soul. Ever. Not without dignity and companionship, having material comfort is simply lacking for a person's full wellbeing. It has never been in history, even if people fail to see it over and over again. And even if I feel guilty about it, it doesn't change anything.

    But the things that I lack in my life are not for my mother to fix. They are for me to build it up on my own. I think the struggle here is that I am having a very hard time getting over an assortment of things. In other words, how I think things should have been. I'm inclined to call that "idealism". And out of the frustration of having these ideals not met, I become resentful. Honestly, maybe it's me living with my mother that has her reopening old scars constantly, and me thinking I don't have the right to stop her from reopening these scars, because she would react negatively to it. That's why I resent her, why I can't forgive her for her flaws, and when I don't, I redirect my resentment towards myself and everything else, and I remain paralyzed.

    I am drinking chamomile tea now and my mood is improving. I'll probably have a light headache all night, but that's fine. I just hope I can pretend I'm doing ok while I'm at it. But other than that, today will just be another day that we'll all get through.

---

    ... The answer is so simple, mother. All you need to do is listen and respect, and then I would be able to extend a lot more grace towards you. But listening can be painful and I don't believe you have the mental stability to allow people to express their troubles without feeling the need to defend and attack them.