Happy Mother's Day... or something.

It feels weird, you know. It's Mother's Day, and I hate my mother. Thank God she had to work today, because otherwise, it would all feel so insincere. It'd feel like a lie. I could barely even write "I love you" on the card I wrote for her. I had to opt for "I heart you", because I couldn't bring myself to say "I love you" to someone I don't love. When I say things like that, I mean it entirely. And as hard as I tried to dredge up love, I couldn't find it.

...That's right. I made my mom a card. As adamantly as I said I wouldn't, I did. The strange thing is, I don't know why. It's not like my dad forced me to, or like my mom would get really angry with me if I didn't.

I guess I just knew she'd feel upset if she didn't get at least something from one of us. Teddy took off and Kristyn's at school, packing up her stuff. They didn't make any time for her. No phone call, no card.

And as much as my mother hurts me, I don't want to hurt her. As much as she makes me feel like a disappointment, I don't want her to feel disappointed. As much pain as she makes me feel, I don't want her to feel pain. As much as my mother makes me feel rejected, I just want her to feel accepted. And to accept me. As much as I hate my mother and don't want to do anything for her, I want to do everything I can for her. Because she is my mother. And I am me.

And no matter how many times she strikes me with those hateful words, and injects that poison of rejection and self-loathing into my bloodstream, I will always want those things. As many times as we fight, and she says those things, I will forgive her. Not fully forgive her. Not ever. I can never trust her again. I will always be walking on eggshells with her. I will always have my guard up. But, I will keep crawling back and crawling back. As my heart mends I will forgive and forgive. Not forget, but I will forgive.
And I feel like that's stupid. I feel like the more I do this, the more I will get hurt. But I can't stop. It's like the idiot traveler from Fruits Basket. I will keep giving until I have nothing left. I will keep doing my best to please.
I know my efforts will go unappreciated. I know I won't get anything in return. I know that no matter what I do, my mother will still see me as a lazy, selfish, spoiled brat. But... I will always see her as my mom. Neurotic, eccentric, pathetic, short-tempered, prone to taking her problems out on others, and with a total disregard for for any point of view that isn't her own, yes. But still, my mom. The only one I've got. And as much bitterness and resentment and pain that I feel toward my mother, I will always be looking out for her. Because, in the end, that is family.