I wonder if having someone to blame helps or hinders.
I feel like the reason my anxiety and depression is as severe as it is right now is my mother. I blame her. And at times, I hate her. I hate her when I’m so overwhelmed by life that I want to cease existing. I hate her when life terrifies me so much that I beg my husband to stay off work. I hate her when I feel completely incapable of being a mother. I hate her when my depression gives me low thoughts about myself. I hate her when I start panicking about a little thing. I hate her when my depression makes me hate the world and my life and my children.
I don’t like having so much anger and hate in me. I don’t like feeling like this. I don’t want to become embittered and cynical. I don’t want to become so hate-filled that people start to avoid me and refer to me as ‘a cruel, pitiful person’.
But what can I do? I blame her for the way I am, and because I hate the way I am I hate her for her part in it.
About thirteen years ago, when I was eight, my Mum’s parents separated. It tore her apart. Her mother was unfaithful to her father and refused to discuss it all with my Mum or give her the answers and closure she desperately needed. From then, my Mum sort of spiralled downwards, and I think it’s a big factor in who she’s become today, and in the affair she had and the choice she’s made to separate from my Dad. Part of her struggle over these past years has been bulimia. As far as I know she’s overcome it now, but she struggled for years in secret and alone.
With this in mind, I feel even more angry towards her for her choices and the way she’s acting now. She knows what it feels like to watch her parents separate. She knows how much that messes you up. And she knows from experience that the whole thing seriously damaged her mentally. So why is she doing the same to her children now, knowing how potentially destructive it could be? Why is she being so selfish? Why is she so utterly blind to our feelings? My siblings have been so affected by this and I worry for them so much. But I worry for me too, because out of my siblings I am the only one who already had mental issues when our world was blown apart. What is this going to do to me? I’m terrified of what the future holds. I’m terrified of each day. My anxiety and depression have worsened significantly since this whole thing has been going on, and it’s killing me.
I want to be better. I want to heal. I want to forgive her.
But how can I? It’s her fault that I’m so messed up. It’s her fault every time I hurt myself or shout at my children. Isn’t it?
Maybe not. I don’t know anymore. My view of reality is so distorted.
I hate her, but I love her. And that’s why this hurts so much.