Why I Cut My Mom Out
And why it’s the best thing I’ve ever done.
People are shocked when I tell them I don’t talk to my mom. The shock turns to horror when they hear how long it’s been. 4 years. It’s been 4 years since I last talked to the woman who gave birth to me, and it’s not going to change any time soon.
“Come stay with me!” My mom encouraged as I tearfully informed her of the eviction notice in my hands. It was the last thing I needed in my life and yet it was inevitable.
For months, I had been battling a mysterious illness. Anything that went into my body, came out of it in five minutes. It was to the point that I couldn’t work. Didn’t want to even try. But not working means not getting paid. A chain reaction was set off. “It’s not a great idea. We’re both so set in our ways…”
She convinced me otherwise, so I moved back in with my mother in November of 2016.
Life With a Monster
The first night I was there should have been a warning. We played cards with my baby sister, Shannon and my brother-in-law. We told stories but there was one about my parents divorce that she took umbrage with. She punched my shoulder, one that I have tendinitis in, and said something nasty.
