The thing is, I no longer like my mother. I don’t like being around her because she hurts my heart. Repeatedly. I have allowed her to. Repeatedly.
Ironically, when I had that sudden-impact realization – wow! I don’t like my mother – was when I fully realized that my mother doesn’t like me! And hasn’t for a long time. Maybe always.
It hurt in different ways, to realize that my mother didn’t like me nor I her. One is a dull ache, the other a sharp fleeting pain, like a slap. Odd, that.