I’m angry. My mother has again taken an important or exciting thing in my life and made it about her–or twisted my feelings about said event unfairly. This time, it was the news that I’d made full professor. She called and said in an angry tone, “Well. Congratu-LATIONS. I wish I would have known about it. I just wanted to say that I’m very proud of you.”
And my stomach sank and the bile came into my jaw.
She has done this my entire life. When we announced our pregnancy with my first child, her response was, “I though you told me you weren’t having children.” Not exuberant, grandma-to-be joy. Not heartfelt congratulations or questions about how I was feeling.
I could go on with these examples.
My gut response is exactly what she wants it to be–guilt. She wants me to feel badly that somehow I didn’t allow HER to feel exactly what she wants to feel. And so, now I’m sitting here with these tainted emotions, actually feeling guilty and bad about something that should make me feel so happy, so proud.
I wish I had the courage just to say out loud a great big “Fuck you” to her–for this, for everything.