“I love you, but you’re going to hell.”
Those were the last kind words the woman that I called my mother said to me.
All because I would not let her convert me back to being a Catholic.
The past 4 days have been a serious trial for my roommate and I with her staying at our house. We’re both very relaxed people, accepting of a lot but we have our limits too. Robin can take care of herself but to see my mother rail into her like she does to me…that is unacceptable.
I’m not against people having faith in any religion. What I can not stand is zealotous behavior that goes against the basic principles of someone’s chosen faith, especially when it’s aimed at my loved ones and I. A healthy conversation about spirituality, faith, or religion is always welcome but it seems that so few people can actually do it without getting their panties in a bunch.
I should have listened to my instincts.
I should have told her that coming for Christmas was a bad idea.
Maybe this was supposed to happen so I could finally let her go and say no.
All my life, it felt like I was never good enough for her. The realization that most of my self-esteem issues originated from her hit me on day 3. I can accept that maybe she did that to me because she wanted me to be happy and work hard to have a better life. At the age of 37, I don’t need her telling me that I’m living in sin and leading a horrible life.
So what if I don’t have a car? That’s my choice. To have her keep digging me about not having one, telling me I’m crazy for not wanting one, and saying she’s buying me a car that I don’t want because I obviously don’t know what’s good for me…
That’s the tip of the iceberg.
The look of pure anger on her face when I “sided” with Robin about how rude she’s been as a guest in our house to us and Robin’s brother dissolved the last shred of guilt I had about being a bad daughter. Whether I am or not, it doesn’t give her the right to treat me or anyone else that way. Telling Robin she’s to blame if I don’t go to heaven is not cool. That is not her job or anyone else’s.
After watching her get in the cab, I hugged Robin and started to cry. I felt horrible for letting her come into our peaceful, happy home. I felt sad that Robin was subjected to such disrespect and outright meanness. I was relieved that we didn’t have to do 4 more days of that. I felt pity for a woman who was so unhappy and angry she didn’t realize it.
Family isn’t always defined by who you share genetics with.
It’s who you share love with.