Aggggggggggggg

While my uplifted, enlightened friend is writing her Things I am Thankful for...I am ready to spew hatred, anger, and pure ugliness. Normally, I am the one who is overflowing with the "we are so blessed...", "things are so wonderful..." and "we have a great life..." comments but today, I just fell through the lovely, sticky sweet floor onto the greasy, dirty icky surface of "she is driving me crazy..", "I am just going to say I am an orphan...", "I'm getting too old for this s..."!

Earlier this same day, I was printing out a list of wonderful statements that were inspiring, uplifting, and left me feeling like flowers were paving my path. With this positive outlook, I decided to go visit my mother: just to share my positive attitude with her and bask in love.

What the hell was I thinking?

I'm so stressed that I can not even turn my neck. There is a vise holding it in place while a red hot metal poker is randomly piercing my shoulder blades. I am canceling Thanksgiving, boycotting Christmas, and the Easter bunny better stay away or he will be on the barbecue! I hate the way that she can get to me!
It has been this way for a long, long time. I haven't liked my mom for quite a while. Unfortunately, I love her unconditionally. So I keep going back to be exasperated, flabbergasted, and unbelievable pissed! She has this uncanny ability to get under my skin and then release her acidic posion. I let my mind replay her thoughtless comments and irrational accusations. I know that she is wrong. I know that she has created her own reality. I know that she has not been sane for a very long time. But I feel.... I feel the disbelief, the confusion, the hurt.

Over the years, I have become an island. I am a hermit in a city of almost 2 million people. I live in the city that people from all over the whole travel to for entertainment and fun. Yet, I stand on the sidelines merely observing. I share little about myself. I am distant in the same room. I feel disconnected and alienated. Often, I float above the room and observe from my personal monitor: watching the play unfold while being in the room but not part of the process. How did I end up on the outside? I played by the rules. I should be on the inside enjoying the gentle touch of my soul mate, sharing an inside joke with a lover, laughing with friend that have been sown over the last twenty years. Instead, I find myself being surprised by the sound of my own voice on Sunday morning because I have spoken since I dismissed my students on Friday afternoon.
I need to make a change. But how do I disconnect from my mother, my family, and the dysfunctionalism that binds us?