Bitch

Well, it's official, my mother is a bitch.


Having turned up with food and things for her, despite her shouting at me down the phone, being over dramatic and catastrophising she announced that I'm the last person in the world she'd ask for help and that I wasn't a good enough daughter. She tells me I am a good daughter to my dad but not to her. My poor dad who doesn't know it is father's day and can't remember my name. My dad that I miss desperately and see fading before my eyes, disappearing week by week.

I asked for an apology more than once to be told hell would freeze over before I got one. I gave her one more opportunity, and then walked out.

I too am a bitch. I have left a highly distressed seventy year old woman with severe back pain on her own to do whatever the hell she pleases.

She has made me feel like an inadequate and unworthy for most of my life. Tonight she crossed the line. After six and half years of caring for her, I'm going to stand my ground.

I don't know if it was the alcohol or the morphine or the pain talking, but talk she did.

I am feeling guilty for leaving her. She will blame me. I will blame me. I am a bad daughter. Nothing I do will ever be good enough, no matter how hard I try.

Guilt will eat me up.