I have had another episode today where the words that were coming out of my mother’s mouth seemed so surreal I had to spend some time thinking about it before I allowed it to offend me greatly.

How does someone so nonchalantly tell you that your future husband is the type to “move on” from you if you don’t keep him “grounded in church”?

She could have just said, “Hey, only a power like God could keep someone from leaving you”.

Let me back up.

I had been spending a tough Thursday at work getting my ducks in a row after everything this week had blown up in every way imaginable. I was looking forward to going home. I was tired of last minute requirements, shotgun coding and late night fixes. I just wanted to go home.

My mom called while I was in a 3pm meeting. She said she was nearby and wanted to see me. I left work early, at 4:30 so that I could go meet her at Hobby Lobby and have dinner with her at the nearby Mexican eatery.

The discussion during the meal was okay. Eating alone with my mother is usually a recipe for making me upset. The last time I refused to get upset, she got really upset. It was not good. It’s almost never good. I don’t know why I don’t just say I’m busy or lie about some evening activity so that I only see her in the company of others. She controls her words then. I can be mad at her but I’m partially angry at myself for setting up a situation where she and I are alone.

After eating, in the parking lot, we were just talking about cars and how I was ready for a new one. I mentioned that Jeremy had said he would let me drive his car once we’re married to work sometimes, something I thought was good and made me happy.

She got a twisted little smile on her face. I can almost see something darker wash over her face .. from behind her skin. I know that sounds creepy… but I can’t describe it otherwise.

“He’s pretty giving isn’t he?”
“Yeah.”
“You know, you better keep him grounded in church. Those kinds of people who embrace things like that eventually move on”
“What.”
“I’m 50 years old. I’m not stupid okay? Just listen to me”.

At this point I don’t know how to respond so I just change the conversation like she hadn’t just said something really mean, baseless and cruel.

Then she asks me, like she hadn’t just said I couldn’t keep a man unless God himself intervened, why I wasn’t psyching myself up for my own wedding. The scary part is that I felt like she was honestly asking that question. I’m pretty much done with this conversation so I mumble something about having to go.

I get in my car. I am stunned. I’m trying to comprehend that my -mother- just said that to me. The sad part is that this is not the first time. My mother is grossly racist towards white people. She blames them for being racist and then is just as racist herself. She isn’t any better than any other racist.

I make it about two lights before I have to call Jeremy. I manage about 5 minutes of conversation before I have to spill my emotions.

And then I start to cry.
Like a little bitch, I start to cry.

I don’t know how to subvert these underhanded attacks veiled thinly behind motherly concern. I don’t know.
Jeremy listens, like he normally does. And then he changes the subject back to his job search after I finish blubbering through my emotions.

I feel broken some days.
Like my good life actually belongs to someone else and I’m pretending to be happy in someone else’s shoes.

Then I have to remind myself that my self worth is never in question. Nobody defines that. It’s divinely given. It’s a human right. This is a life I have lived. It is -my- life.. as long as I am on this Earth, it is my life.

But I still have the bad aftertaste of feeling emotionally abused.
I just think about how I never hold grudges so I won’t even be thinking about this conversation a week from now. Thank God I had the sense to keep this relationship as far away from everyone, especially my mother, for so long. Her words and own doubts would have poisoned me, this relationship, and I wouldn’t be here today the way I am.

There’s a reason why I never show my real emotions to my mother. They’re just not safe there, in an open space between me and her. They have -never- been safe, from the time in 4th grade that she found my journal and blasted me for having feelings that she didn’t want me to have, to today.

Just another thing to live with.
It just kills me sometimes knowing that she’s the type of person to say cruel mean things that only stir doubt and hurt relationships and then later pat herself on the back for telling people “how it is” and contributing to their success if they succeed, or donning a “told you so” attitude if they don’t. Either way she wins.

It makes me want to hurl.