After the storm

---I tried to find a picture to put in here, and I couldn't find one.---

After six months, my mother finally decided it was time to speak to me again. Six months. What kind of relationship is that? I'll admit I was stubborn as I didn't call her either. I honestly thought I wouldn't have to. To stop speaking to me for such a small reason.... I wasn't motivated to fight for her.

Not only did she wait six months to call me, but she called me to complain that I didn't tell her about my internship. There were so many things I wanted to say. "You didn't call me when my sister started self mutilating. You didn't call me when my brother got married. You didn't call me to let me know you were passing through a city I was staying. You didn't." Instead, I sat silently hoping that something would push my voice in the right direction.

I've spent months in counseling in an attempt to work through the pain that I harbor. I don't know if I'm more upset at what my mother has done to me, or that she is the topic of all my sessions. For once, I want to say something positive about her without counteracting myself with something negative. I don't want to feel this way.

I keep reminding myself that I have people in my life now who will fight for me.... as long as I fight for them. I've been fighting.

Most of my pain seems to stem from my empathy for my sister. I don't care anymore what my mother decides to do to me. There's not much more that can be done. What hurts me more is the repetition of mistakes that she doesn't see. My sister is there still. She has a chance to grab her before she runs. "I don't care that she's hurting me. What really angers me is that she's doing the same thing to Lacey, and she doesn't even notice." I've heard myself say this in more than one session.

This just reminded me to schedule my next appointment. It makes me nervous. I'm scared to uncover the things I hide from myself.