Looking back at all of the men that I’ve dated through the years, most of them have one thing in common: they all needed to be “saved”. I’d always be drawn to the men whose flaws mirrored my mother’s. They didn’t all have every single one, but none of them were capable of truly loving me, because they didn’t know how to love themselves. Maybe subconsciously, I was trying to make up for the fact that I couldn’t save my mother, or maybe I had just become so used to being hurt that it just seemed natural to me.
It wasn’t until I went to counseling that I realized how unhealthy my love life had been. I started going to see a therapist after having my heart broken by the same guy for the 10th time. I thought he was the root of my problems, and boy, was I wrong. As time went on, I stopped talking about him and almost exclusively talked about my mother. It’s really scary how big of a role your parents have in what your mental state is as an adult. I just wanted my mother to love me. I just wanted these men to love me. Neither could do so until they got over their own demons, which I could not be responsible for. I sometimes have to keep telling myself this, as I always have this nagging feeling of responsibility.
My mother did actually show up this weekend…..hours late and an hour before I had to leave. I tried so hard to keep my thoughts to myself, since it was Mother’s Day, but I was so angry with her that I just kept making these back handed jabs at her. “I’m sure all the extra weight doesn’t help how badly your knee hurts.” “Stop acting like your mastectomy ruined your life. You fought and you won. Who cares about the scars.” My boyfriend of 4 years (the first healthy relationship I’ve ever been in) kept kicking me under the table to let me know I’d said too much, but part of me didn’t care. She lost her job because of her drinking and instead of helping herself and getting a new job, all she does is sit on the couch, drink her damn boxed wine, and order excessive amounts of take out food. She has no income, and instead of doing anything to get back on her feet, she keeps taking money out of her retirement. She’s gained so much weight in the year since I’ve seen her and has developed a wheeze when she moves. As much shit as she puts me through, it scares me to honestly face the fact that she’s slowly killing herself.
I’ve tried everything to get her to want to help herself. I used to spend most of my life trying to get her to fix hers, but I’ve had to learn how to distance myself, which doesn’t always work. I’m an only child. What kind of a child would I be if I just abandoned her, even if it was to save myself?