I don't know why I obsess so much on me going no contact with my mother. I think going no contact was the catalyst of confirmation for what I had grown pretty sure of what her reality is. It's a lot like the guy that suspects his wife of cheating, but hopes it is all in his head, and comes home early and finds her knocking boots with the tinker, the tailor, and the candlestick maker.
It was the straw that broke the camel's back and the slap to the face that let me know that decades of me turning the other cheek carried as much weight for her as what she took and others gave to her for decades.
Which is to say it meant nothing.
And for her to devalue and discard as easily as she did.
Just makes me want to burn her house with her in it.
My sister is as good as no contact and she can correct me if I am wrong, but there was never an open declaration of fuck you and a kiss my ass from her like there was from me. So I played it to the next level and we both got to see just what she is made of.
For me there was no choice. For her to shit on me for 50 plus years and then want to engage in some twisted hand to gas-lighted hand combat while I was doing my best to make her quality of life as good as possible is unforgivable.
I'm not fine again but every day gets a little better.