I am struggling with my life right now, but most particularly where it ("It" being any area of my life) relates to my mother. Most of the time, I hold my frustrations, hurt feelings, and misery on the inside, but at times it gets to a point where it becomes unendurable and bubbles over.
Sometimes I feel as though my life is not mine to live, as though every decision that I make, ever aspect of my existence has some relation to her. Like if I make the wrong decision, it impacts her life just as much as mine. Now, she would say, "You're making all this up" or "All of this is in your head. If you think these things, you have the problem, not me." But it's not all in my head, and I am not making it up. My therapists calls this whole situation "codependency."
First of all, nothing I ever do seems to be good enough to please her. For example, I got a college degree, the first person ever in her family to do so, yet sometimes she'll say, "I don't want Charlie [my brother] to go to the same college you did. I want him to go to a good school." When I point out the obvious insinuation in that statement, she says she didn't mean it that way and that I am reading too much into her words. Um...how else could she mean that? Also, I'm looking into getting into some post-undergraduate program, but nothing I express interest in seems to make her happy with me at all. I'm left feeling like an abject failure, like I cannot do anything right.
Secondly, as I have briefly explained before, she is never ever happy with my relationship choices. Ever. I have reached the conclusion that, regardless of who I date, she's never going to approve. She never has approved, except for one man that she encouraged me to go out with before I ever even got involved with him. She even told me once, "I would like to see you be with [name withheld]." But other than that, she has always been negative about my relationships, even when I was happy in them. She has always made snide putdowns about all the men I've dated, as I've said before, but then acts unknowing when I point out that I catch on to what she is trying to insinuate. Sometimes, she's even outright said really mean things about them, even while I was still with them. (I want to point out that I have in the past made mistakes with men, but not every single one of them. So in some cases she has been right, but I simply refuse to believe that, though it is certainly true for some of them, none of the men I have ever dated had any worth or redeeming qualities at all.) So the truth is, I'm seeing someone right now with whom I am incredibly happy, but I do not feel at liberty to share that with her because she would only say things that would hurt. So I am keeping it to myself. I hate things this way, but I don't see any other choice. And since it seems I will never find a suitable man, I may as well just be with someone who makes me happy and avoid dealing with any pain or derision from that side.
Thirdly and finally, I feel often as though I have to account for every waking moment of my life. The majority of my friends speak to their parents perhaps two or three times a week. I speak to her multiple times every day. I go over every day after work and spend my evenings at her home. (She says I "don't have to" do this, but I always feel horribly guilty if I don't.) And almost every time, the visit ends up in some kind of conflict. And it hurts. She asks questions about my plans, about my personal life, which I am not at all comfortable sharing with her because I want to avoid disapproval. And what kills me and absolutely infuriates me is that she has neither the same standards nor the same sets of rules and expectations for my eighteen-year-old brother, who does whatever he wants, whenever he wants, with no boundaries, responsibilities, rules, or consequences. And it upsets me so much. I've tried my whole stupid life to be good and to make her happy; he disrespects her with every word that comes out of his mouth. But I am the one who gets punished, and he never does.
Sometimes I genuinely wish I didn't exist.
