jtab7800
Well-Known Member
In my last post, I made a huge mistake in forgetting to complete a sentence, leaving a comma at the end of it. I meant to say that I got up this morning having an anxiety attack, and I didn't think I'd be able to have my guitar teacher over here today, and when I started feeling a little better and told him that he could come over, Mom had an angry reaction to that. She had to fill out her payroll documents so she can get paid, and she thought that hearing the voices of my guitar teacher and I would keep her from concentrating on it, so I felt like she thought that she had to try to make my anxiety attack worse. I'm sorry about that mistake.I think it's good that you're trying to understand her even when she doesn't have the maturity to understand you.
Yes, her trauma may be causing her to behave differently than one might otherwise anticipate. When people are in a bad state they may not be capable of empathy because they're overloaded with other things.
She may never be able to reciprocate emotional support.
I've always tried to understand Mom, because being understanding is what I'd rather be. When I was in my 20s, I had realized that I was acting like my mother in some ways, and I wanted to change that part of me, so I started trying to be more understanding of people. I wonder if the compassion that I've shown people before was instilled in me by what I've been through?
I feel like Mom shows more compassion toward other people than she does toward me, and I feel like she listens to other people better than she listens to me. This is probably going to sound crazy, but I used to wonder if Mom acts like I'm ranked too low in our household to be listened to the way she listens to others. Bear in mind that some of the wording in that thought might be influence by the fact that my Dad, who passed away in 2009 at age 60, was in the Army before I was born, and he served in the Vietnam War, where he got exposed to Agent Orange, an herbicide that contained one of the most dangerous chemicals in the world. I wish I could hug him just one more time. Just one more time.
And we have a lot to worry about this week. This Thursday is when one of our little Yorkies has to undergo surgery for a large tumor in his abdomen, and I'm worried, along with worrying about other things that are happening. I just hope he gets through this. He's not old -- he's only 6 years old.
I've lost so many loved ones in my life, and I feel like I'll never be allowed to gain the kind of loved one that I would love to have most in this world -- someone to spend the rest of my life with. It's like my life is made up of subtraction only, and absolutely no addition.
My mother keeps telling me that she's too old to help me much anymore. And I have to agree that there are too many times when she does show immaturity, and she makes herself look like she's unable to understand me, instead getting, at the very least, what she calls "aggravated," which, to me, has always sounded similar to being annoyed. Sometimes, it's a full-blown explosion from her.
2025 was a horrible year for me, and the 2020s have been the worst decade of my life so far. I'm afraid to hope that 2026 will be any better.