Mom Is Made Of Kryptonite

I can't believe my mother is still alive and torturing me.

That's an overstatement. In many ways, she's become very supportive, but it's a mixed bag. At 85 lbs, this southern belle was one hardcore drunk far before I was born when she was 40. I found letters from the 1950s in drunk and clear (I hate the word "sober) handwriting, and she was drinking like a fish while preggers.

Well, I'm 52 now, my brother is 56, and she's....believe it or not, 91. She had the luxury of being supported by my wonderful father and never worked a day in her life, therefore had all day to devote to booze. And booze she did. Up to a liter of cheap bourbon a day, adding on a lot of Gallo jug wine too. She stopped drinking involuntarily at age 71, when the docs and my dad twice committed her to the "Charter Hospital" rehab of the day back then. What made her stop was learning about the happenings in the next paragraph....

Here's what still confuses me to this day. I was being sexually molested by my grandfather, really, she delivered me into the arms of danger without a thought, yet she was accusing me (I'm in the arts) of f***ing men who were famously gay! And these were men who chose to work with me based on my talent and ability, yet I got no accolade from her, just her calling me a tramp for ridiculous reasons I will never understand. Just yesterday on the phone, she spouted on about my greatest professional accomplishment not being for reasons I had achieved, but that the HR manager knew someone with my name. I worked my *** off for my career! Thanks mom.

She's still at it, and looking like she'll live to 100. Aaaargh. I live 3,000 miles away and am trying to stop drinking myself, and hope I'm not behaving to my friends like this.
Clearheadnow Clearheadnow
Aug 19, 2012