My mother is unavailable. Most of the time, well, all of the time. She is in an alternate world where her children don’t matter as much as they should. Her world consists of a low-life man who is on a pedestal he doesn’t deserve. His actions are always right, his words are always true. He creates who she is, who she loves, what she likes, and what she does. She becomes an insignificant speck, his shoe holds her head down, and her children are somewhere beneath her.
My mother is full of empty words and forgotten promises that are ultimately lies to soothe in a moment. At her age now, with all her mental defecates, she has excuses for her selfishness, forgetfulness, lack of communication, and lack of love. She has created a world in which everyone is either against her or out to get her. A world where a man and her sanity are in a constant battle, but she is the victim now because she can’t change. She is too far gone.
The truth is, she gave up on being a mother a long time ago. It just took her children longer to learn how to let go of her. And learn to stop being sons and daughters to such a broken woman.