Mommy Time

I realized today that my mom never cared about me, or what I did, unless it pertained directly to her.
I was thinking about kids and thought that when raising a child, you HAVE to set boundaries with them, otherwise how will they know how to set boundaries for themselves and with other people? And then I thought "But maybe I'm just really really biased because my mom never paid any attention to me unless it was entirely negative and abusive and self-serving and something to know that she was watching over me in any way would have been wonderful."
I can remember one or two times when my mom set rules for me, mostly what time I was to be back by. If I didn't listen to it that one time, she yelled at me endlessly for a few hours and then it was never brought up again. I can remember the one time I got in trouble for ditching my curfew, and that's because it never occurred to me that I had to listen to anything she said. I wasn't being difficult or rebellious (consciously), rules were just so foreign that it never occurred to me to follow them. Most of the time she would set boundaries and absolutely nothing would happen when I ignored them. I mean nothing. NOTHING nothing. She didn't even notice. I don't think she even remembered setting them. And I think, "Well, she was mentally ill. There's probably a lot she didn't remember." And then I think of EVERY SINGLE TIME she perceived that I was being abusive, and how she would bring it up OVER and OVER again over YEARS, and never once forgot. A boundary or two would have been nice, something real, something to let me know that she was watching what I did and cared about my well being. But she didn't, unless I was in her periphery and doing something she thought was manipulative and mean and abusive. I didn't exist unless I filled a role she thought she needed, a horrible one that someone my age could never fill.
I remember when I did something "bad" and she said I couldn't take tennis lessons. She and my dad had hassled me and hassled me about my eating habits and absolute lack of exercise, and so tennis was what I chose as my healthy activity. And that was taken away. And she still hassled me about my eating habits and lack of exercise. The one productive thing I could have been doing. I remember waking her up and telling her that we were late, and she groggily told me that I couldn't take tennis because of what I was done. I froze for a second, the mental kind of freezing, and wordlessly left the room. It didn't make any sense. It angered me, but I didn't know why. I cried. I had been really excited about playing tennis. I don't remember what I had done that was bad, but I'm absolutely certain that I did it again with absolutely no punishment. The one thing that would have made sense.
She never cared about how my day went, not really. She would ask, but it was always really obvious that she was only half-listening to everything I said, especially as I got older. The older I got, the less she cared. The less she was able to control me, I guess is what it was really all about.
My mom made me out to be her. The things she constantly accused me of doing, the abuse that she was certain I was heaping on her, I recently realized it was all things she was constantly doing to me; putting me down, yelling at me. (Yes, she accused me of yelling at her while yelling at me.) She treated me like I was an idiot and yelled and cried and screamed when she perceived that I was doing the same thing to her. This was usually when I would say something funny and she would just whip out this meaning to what I had said that was NOT THERE WHATSOEVER. I could never get her to believe that I was JUST talking, that it wasn't about her. I try to tell myself that she had and still has borderline personality disorder, that there was something REALLY wrong with her, but it doesn't make it any better. It doesn't make the pain any less.
After an estranged relationship, we started talking again. I was in my early early 20's, so this was just about three years ago. We saw each other once a week for dinner and she always insisted that we go to a bar. Talking to her was like talking to a brick wall; she cared even less, but there was this weird energy about her, like she was trying really hard to pretend that she did. Something was there that hadn't been there before, but something even bigger was completely lost. I can't be anymore clearer than that. I felt like crap around her, but I was desperate for her love and attention. She got frustrated with me when I said I didn't want to eat in bars anymore because I was trying to quit smoking and drinking. She told me to "stop being difficult". I don't think she was ever okay with my trying to quit smoking. She never said anything directly of course, but she always got silent and grouchy when I would talk about it or having withdrawals or something. We didn't have a relationship, we had dinner where I talked and she barely responded except when I did something she thought was stupid. Then she gave me crap about it, smiling, but it felt horrible. Then on thanksgiving, I felt so depressed and edgy and upset that I couldn't imagine going to a party and being around a bunch of people I had never met, as were our plans. I called her to tell her. She exploded. She sounded just like she did when I lived with her and even gave me crap about the fact that my sister hadn't been calling her. Then she cut off and said the my mom equivalent of "Fine, I don't care. Fine." I was heartbroken. I tried to make it better, I apologized and apologized and told her I would see her next week. But her tone was still malicious and angry. She hung up without saying goodbye. I broke down completely and cried slept through the whole holiday. The most emotion she had shown me in a matter of months, and it was to yell at me like she used to. I realized that she hadn't changed, no matter how much she and I wanted to believe that. That was nearly two years ago, and I haven't spoken to her since.
I quit smoking cold turkey the following January.