Worst scene ever with my mother today. Thank GOD I had taken some anti-anxiety meds. Still it doesn't hurt the pain. The horrible things she said. I took the high road - for the first time in years, I didn't raise my voice, I kept calm and really tried to listen.

At one point, she tossed a box on the table and said "Since you refused to see me over Christmas,  here. I picked it out two months before Christmas."

(I had told her repeatedly from October on that I needed some space, that meant no calls, lettters, visits while I got myself stabalized because she tended to aggravate my anxiety. Still she persisted with calls upon calls (which I never answered or returned except occasionally to leave a reminder to please leave me alone), the guilt-soaked letters and the unannounced visit where she entered my home uninvited after a barrage of calls she made - the clue when I said "Get the hell out of my house or I'm calling the police" might have been a subtle clue to her.)

I told her that I didn't think this was the appropriate time or manner to give a gift in such a way. That if she probably put a lot of time and effort into selecting it - and I didn't something from her in such a negative manner. So she told me to give it to the mailwoman or throw it in the trash. I told her that it was very hurtful.   

She proceeded to start bringing up a variety of stuff from the past while I tried to keep it on one topic - the gift and how she hasn't been considerate of my boundaries. I told her that I opened/read her letter sent last week with my therapist because I wanted to do it in a supportive  environment. She interrupted and said that I only told her half the story and lied to her. (What good would it do me to lie to my therapist - it only cheats me?) I told her that reading her letter verbatim made it quite difficult to give half the story and lie when Iw as reading her words. I said that I had written a repsonse to her letter and wanted to go over it with my therapist later this week and possibly edit it before sharing it with her. She said she wanted to meet with my therapist and tell her the whole story. It old  her that I wasn't sure what her position was on that, but I would ask her. (My mother has gone to 2 therapy sessions that I can recall in my lifetime - she was superficial and totally dodging the hard-hitting questions they asked. She was like the Stepford mom - I didn't even recognize her in there and thought it was a waste of time.)

While this is going on, I'm standing in the doorway to my garage. She's in the garage holding a pair of tree loppers. She was so defensive and irrational it reminded me when I was 14 and she tried to hit me in the head with a hammer, but I ducked and it left a huge hole in the wall. (Which I wrote "Made my mom" with the date) To this day, she still denies it ever happened. She tells me she loves me - I tell her that I don't doubt she has the best of intentions, but love shouldn't cause so much pain and turmoil. (She didn't like that one)

As a side note, I sent a brief handwritten card to my father for father's day. I don't refer to him as 'dad' or "father' because in my heart, he's never earned those terms of endearment. I've referred to him by his first name for years which pissed him off to no avail. Why do I send the card every year? I don't know - I guess to keep the possibility alive. He has no contact with any of his blood relatives. The mom told him 9 months ago about my health situation. He hasn't tried to contact me at all. 95% of me would rather not hear from him - because I have more than enough drama going on right now. I've always been the 'abnormal one' (his words) and been treated like the black sheep of his family. Still, there's a tiny fraction of a party of me that wishes that he would have at least acknowledged the card. I still feel it like a rejection. It's just another reminder of how alone I am. I have great friends, but unfortunately, they are hours away.

I thought writing about it would help. But it hasn't. And I can't even recall all of the things that she said. I don't know if that's a good thing or not. It's already hard to see from all the crying I've done. I've left a message with my therapist for a ASAP call back.

Maybe later I'll update. Right now, I think I just need to go cry more.