There's no way to explain...age doesn't change some people, things from the past, behaviours that trigger...for those who are familiar with any of this, you know what we mean. Cupboard doors have been replaced, but the same irrational overreaction to everything not being exactly how she wants it remains. Selfish and borderline, lies between her teeth.
Will we ever not crumble inside, fearful, by the sound of her raised voice...and her bizarre behaviour?
Some of us have traits...that we recognize as hers. We wither in the face of it.
Dying inside. Fragmented.
(if you're back to reading our blog again, Mother, sorry...but...aw, fuck it, just, we have to write...we know you don't like it here in these words, exposing you)
Stories from the past: http://just-call-me-frank.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/stories-of-us.html...and how to hate your mother, hate people, hate life, and move on to doing things other people think are fucked up...(really, though, it's scattered like poison breadcrumbs through this entire blog).