My mother was not kind to me growing up. She was not kind to me as an adult. She died in March of 2019 and this will be the first holiday season without her. I found out when she died that she earnestly lied to me about so many things which alienated me from my siblings and my cousins. I feel I was her vessel of hatred. Even as she lay dying with just me for company (my siblings couldn't handle watching her pass so they left me alone with her) she still managed to express her hatred to me. Hatred she felt at everything but managing to explain it off as life and a mother's love.
Which is why now that she's gone I feel sad and relief and sad again. I cannot fathom why she chose me to pour all her bitterness, anger, disappointment and hatred into me, making me this angry, petty shadow of a person.
Sad because I could never understand why she did this to me, her first born. Relief because I don't have to ever juggle who I am versus what she hated. Then sad again because I will never get a chance to get it "fixed".
Now my husband's family, who are extremely close respectful and loving of each other, will all be coming to my house for a major reunion with their mother visiting from another country who they have not seen in over 20 years. Of all years this one.
I hate the holidays.