Yesterday I Told My Mother I Hated Her
And I meant it because a part of me does (or did)
Today she called me in a panic.
She was attacked in her car at gun point by armed robbers and shot at.
They asked her to hand over the keys but her car starts at the press of a button and she’d put the keys away in a hard to reach bag.
Afraid that if she said she couldn’t find the keys they’d kill her or worse, abduct her, she just stepped on the gas and floored it and they opened fire.
She’s alive, and she sounds well enough but it was a really close call.
Perhaps this is the universe telling me that my mother and I have reached rock bottom and our only option is to start back up otherwise lie down and wait for the end.
When she called I comforted her as best as I could, asked her if she could come home, banished her self-recriminations and told her I loved her as directly and simply as I could.
It made me realise how incredibly vulnerable she is.
It also made me realise how sad it is that in spite of the fact that we are not speaking to each other, I am the only one she has to call.
She’s sleeping now and when she wakes in the morning, I will call and reassure her once more.
Of course, this is also the universe making clear to me what a worthless person I am.