I feel sick.

I just got an email from my aunt.

"Just got an email from your mother!"

And that was it. I said, "Good god, woman - you can't just drop the whore-bomb on me and leave it at that!"

Oh, so flippant. I was kinda hoping she'd crawl away and die in a ditch, or at least never show her face again, but...

Damn it. Why do people like that always pop up when you're pootling along just fine? When I got the email alert I felt sick. I hate that she does this to me after all these years.

I want to know but I don't want to know.

I know, I know, I know...I shouldn't let her. But it's like an automatic reaction of "MOTHER!" = *puke*

Apparently she 'just wanted someone to talk to' and doesn't understand why no-one in the family will speak to her.

Oh, and she did nothing wrong.

So...there's nothing wrong with stealing from your daughter, husband and mother, stabbing your own kid, beating her with broken-off chairlegs, hospitalising her as a toddler and blaming it on one of your many boyfriends...gah!

I shouldn't get this upset, but I am, dammit. 52 years old and she still refuses to acknowledge the role she played in the way her own life has turned out.

If she had a history of reliability and approachability I'd be more inclined to give a damn but...I feel like she's trying to put people on a guilt trip for treating HER badly and...and...well I don't know. But there it is.

I'll have you know I've been complimented many times over on my magnificent chinbeard.

ETA: Oh, and thanks Mumut. I'm trying to figure out how to stop letting her push my buttons but I've come to the conclusion if I didn't react with anger to an unfair situation I wouldn't be human. There's nothing wrong with believing her behaviour was (is) dishonourable, but...I don't know what else I feel. Regret? Sadness? Guilt? I'll try to shove it aside and get on with things. It just threw up some disturbing feelings of "Why won't anyone listen to ME for once?" And you all do. And you believe me (thank God). I've never thought anyone should automatically take one side of the story just because you're friends with a person, but it's such a relief to have people believe I'm telling the truth for once. People tend to turn a blind eye to tales of mothers beating up their own kids; at least they did in the 70s and 80s. I have the medical records and yes, the scars to prove it...Still, some people refuse to acknowledge it. There are none so blind as those who will not see.

Writing, writing, writing. I have my writing. And...breathe...

Rarri, I think you hit on something there. I almost feel responsible for...something. I don't know what, but it's like, I feel she's saying, "If you'd only speak to me this situation could be okay."

On the other hand, there's the whole, "Well, if you hadn't kicked me in the kidneys so hard I peed blood for a week when I was ten, the situation would be okay."

(Sorry...don't mean to come out with a sob story...I'm just venting. GAH)!

Quick. Someone post a photo of Colin Farrell.

Tough love. I has it.

(Are you going to mention baboons soon)?

At this point I would like to come over all mature and quote Martin Luther King, Jr:

"Don't hate. It's too big a burden to bear."

That is all.

Also, there's one thing she can never take away from me. My Colin Farrell DVD collection.