Truth Be Told: A Narcissistic Mother’s Unrequited Love
What's up Anthromistic Family? It has been such a long time. I am back to drop an article I wrote in 2017, but deleted because I was called "crazy" by a narcissist for expressing hidden wounds. I'm 28 now. I want to help others whom may have had a similar experiences. I did minimum editing to errors to keep it authentic to the original time I wrote this article. I did not add any life updates or my healing process. I will say I have not spoken to my parents in 5 years. Although they never tried anyways. There was a brief moment during the holidays when we rekindled, but if I can’t receive an apology at bare minimum we probably won’t speak for the rest of my life. If you’re adult enough to say ruthless comments to your child then be adult enough to apologize. I carry those wounds not them. I love you Anthromistic Family! XOXO
Unrequited Love: One-sided love is love that is not openly reciprocated or understood as such by the beloved
Contrary to popular belief
It does not exist only in romantic partnerships. It can occur in your family as well as friendships. I can honestly say I have experienced unrequited love my entire life as if it were a karmic cycle left over from my past life. I am tired of being my past. I know my story will resonate with others.
As a teacher I have held students in my arms and provided my chest for them to weep on while hearing stories that reflect my own life. I always tell them the Truth: It might not be easy but you will get through it and it will make you stronger. Just get it out and do not bottle it in. However, I rarely follow my own advice.
My first experience of Unrequited Love began when I was about 13 years old, the summer before high school. After a devastating occurrence with my birth father (he molested me at the age of 9 and 10) it seemed as though my mother just stopped loving me. I remember her saying how I should feel sorry for her because she had to go to court and fight this battle. "You should be thankful because some mothers would have not filed a suit" she repeated. I remembered thinking “I am a kid, I don’t know what to do” but I found space in my heart to understand her frustration. She gave birth at 15. Maybe I was too much for her to deal with. However, I now know that’s not a true excuse because I see plenty of young mothers love their child fully and passionately.There were times my mother would come home from work sad because people would make fun of her nose or her weight. As a child I could feel her pain. I told her she was pretty and that I loved her often. I tried as a kid to boost her confidence and self-worth while she would later destroy mine.
When I first told my mother about the molestation it was due to an argument. She was upset that I kept missing the bus for school while I attend Crispus Attucks Middle School. The Truth was I could not sleep at night because the molestation repeated in my mind. I hated my feet touching each other when I slept. I finally blurted it out, “He keeps touching on me!” “I cannot sleep”. She looked devastated and completely heartbroken. The action she took to rectify the situation was inspiring. My mother loved me. She would protect me, thought 10 year old Paris.
Being molested was not my fault, but I carried the burden of the effects. I hated myself. I barely wanted to touch my body in the shower. I felt like a dirty whore no one would ever want or see as valuable. I was eventually told it was my fault by my mother. It left me feeling worthless and used. Who would want me? I was trash, garbage.Now mix that with a lack of nurturing and constantly being bullied at home.
The last time I felt love from someone was when my Grandmother was alive. Sadly, her love did not last too long due to her being taken from the Earth when I was 9 years old. My Grandmother lost her life due to alcoholism. I witnessed her liver failing, then her health. I never got to say goodbye at the hospital, only at the funeral.My Grandmother was my right hand. She taught me how to ride the City Bus, took me on walks, we went to the candy store, and most of all we bonded to old movies/music like the Temptation and the Five Heartbeats. My Grandmother would always tell me how much she loved me and how much faith she had in my future. Her discipline was always with love and care no matter how upset she seemed. She was not afraid to apologize for mistakes, which showed me how to do the same. My mother tried her best to keep my Grandmother’s health stable, but in the end you cannot help someone who does not want to help themselves. I like to think that my Grandmother tried her best to sober up because she knew how much I loved her. But it is hard to fight a demon that’s been on your back for more than 10 years. My love for my Grandmother caused so much anger in my mother. My mother hated that I loved my Grandmother to the point it was almost jealousy. My mother would ask me why I loved someone who treated her so badly. My assumption is that my Grandmother did not treat my mother badly, but instead she kept it 100% with mother and my mother did not like this due to her narcissism. I would run away to my Grandmother’s house when we all lived in Stone Key Apartments located on the South-side of Indianapolis. My Grandmother would wake up and see her 8 year old Granddaughter in the kitchen making cereal lol. “Hey, Granny!”Because I am the only child by my mother I was taught to take care of myself at a young age. You could catch me in the kitchen making noodles before I was in 2nd grade. I still value this independence.
My mother was always good at facades. As long as I acted like everything was good to the public and in front of her husband then she was satisfied. However, everything was not ok with me. I hated my life. There would be days I would get home from school at 2:30pm and my mother would antagonize me for hours. She would talk about how I was fat, my hair was ugly, how my physical appearance was not up to par, my love of my grandmother, I would never be anything etc. She would tell me she wished she never had me and I was a mistake. Just the nastiest things while I sat in silence. But as soon as her husband came home around 5:30 pm, she would greet him with a “Hubby’s Home” and a huge smile as if nothing just happened. He had no clue!
I was always nervous to come home before 5:30 pm so whenever there was band practice or tennis practice I would stay after school. I was scared because I did not know what to expect at home. Was I going to have sit on the stairs and listened to her tell me she wish she never had me and act like it never happened as soon as her husband came home? The unpredictability was frightening. This would happen at least 60-75 days out the year. As soon as my mother’s husband was not around she had her chance to be the biggest bully she could be.
When I was fourteen I began my first job. I felt obligated to use my money to “support” the family. I wanted to do my part. I did not want to appear ungrateful as I had been told before. To a young teen of course this meant buying food and pizza about 3 times a week. Finances were always discussed openly in my home. I felt like a burden they had to pay for. However, I would be flat broke from doing this. I later found out my mother knew I felt obligated to “support” the family but no one ever stopped me. They enjoyed it- money they did not have to spend. Luckily, I was introduced to the love of my life, BoJangles, my well missed crazy poodle. When I first met Bojangles he was originally suppose to be for my Uncle who lived with us. But I believe GOD and the High Spirits knew I needed something to love and for it to love me back.
S0, me and BoJangles were not always the best of friends. In fact, the first night home this fool bit the hell out my for touching his feet. But I learned he did not play about his feet no matter who was dealing with him lol. Groomers, Vet, did not matter he would go ape shit. But it felt good to honestly go home and feel the excitement from his body when he saw me because I felt the same way. I would get roasted at Arlington for passing out missing dog fliers, but it was all in love. They knew how much I loved my dog. Bo had a habit of running away, but he was like me- an adventurer at heart. We had a true beautiful bond that animal lovers may only understand. BoJangles, helped cover the wounds of being unloved but he could not mend them completely. My mother would soon become jealous of the love I had for BoJangles. She did not understand why I loved him more, similar to the conversations about my Grandmother. The answer was simple: You treat me like shit! The public sphere might not know who you are, but I as your daughter know the Truth. You cannot escape the Truth. The Truth is she stopped loving me the moment I was born, but wanted unconditional love for herself. The true definition of Unrequited Love. I would get kicked out the house multiple times for absolutely no reason. I recall a time in particular when I was asked to leave the house because I did not want to spend my own hard earn money on clothing and shoes while she sat there yelling at me in my clothes and in the shoes I purchased for myself during the summer. I just left. I always wanted to be the best daughter I could be. I had nowhere to go during these hard times. I would literally sleep in my car at a park or even at a church. She did not care because the public did not know. Narcissists have a great concern for public image.
Whenever I was hurt I would try to explain to my mother and her response was often “Woe is Me” or "you're too sensitive no one cares" as if what I felt was invaluable and not the Truth. I could hardly express myself for 30 seconds without hearing “Woe is Me” or “Stop playing the victim”. Manipulative Narcissist. As if I had not been through enough when I was molested, was I being a victim them? As if her mental abuse and non-nurturing was not enough. As if seeing my Grandmother wither away was NOT enough. But when she was hurt I was expected to be fully concern. Selfish. I soon started seeing a psychologist, and she was pretty cool but it was not hitting the mark like I needed it to. She was not someone I could call at 2 am if I was crying- it was her profession. My mother would ask, “Why do you go to a therapist and not talk to me?”. Answer: You always ridicule how I feel and shout “no one cares” every time I try to express myself. cannot take someone’s apology serious when they continue to do the same actions they previously apologized for. She never admitted fault. When you do it’s fake and phony. I can see past the fake tears and the bullshit. Especially, when the behavior is repeated time after time.
When I was turning 16 years old I had the choice between a car or a trip to California to visit Disneyland. I went with the car, because it would make it easier to travel back and forth to work so that my mother or her husband would not have to continue to do so. However, they decided to do the trip instead. I am definitely not complaining because traveling expands my soul. I was allowed to bring 2 people. One was my cousin and the other was a close friend. Choices like this led people to believe I was spoiled or privileged but it was just a cover up. A facade to maintain her public image as a "good" mom.
As soon as we got to California my mother started taking over. She had to be the center of attention. She had to talk down to me. She had to make others not like me. And this she did. I could see even my close friend eyeing me up and down, rolling her eyes like I was a disgrace to the Earth all so quickly. This could be because many people think I am spoiled. But I was not. I would have rather lived in a box with a mother that loved and cared for me than for her to cover her emotional abuse with material goods.
The night we all headed to Disneyland (my mother, myself, close friend, and cousin) I was asked to stay behind while my close friend and cousin enjoyed the theme park. My mother walked with me back to the car and asked me if I was having sex. Yes, I had lost my virginity but I was not having sex. I told her “No” repeatedly but she did not believe me. She decided to call her friend and explain to her friend how much of a whore her daughter was. My mother called me a “whore”, “slut”, “no good”, "stupid bitch" and “worthless” for hours while I just sat in the back seat crying my eyes out. I was none of those things, but I could feel her enjoyment calling/thinking I was. We arrived at Disneyland around 8 pm and did not leave until Midnight. This is how long she talked down to me. When she was finally done venting we went to meet my guest at the gate so we could all go back to the hotel. I never explored Disneyland.To this day my mother brags about the good time we had at Disneyland. I cannot relate. She brags to her husband, but he does not know the Truth. I know the Truth. The Truth is I cannot relate. I was traumatized. I kept my optimism during the trip but her harsh words will never leave my soul. She was my mother and her opinion meant Gold to me back then.
In the past, I called my close friend at times before expressing how my mother would call me fat and how desperately I was working to save money for a fat camp. I looked into scholarships and financial aid to support my desire to go to fat camp. One time my mother even snatched the phone and told me nobody wanted to hear about that, I was killing their vibe. She was probably right. My close friend had a loving mother so she could not relate to my sorrows. Even overhearing my conversation did not stop my mother, she wanted to ruin any self-worth I had.
I lost my virginity at a young age, the summer right before high school. I solely believe this is due to me being exposed to sex before it was my time and a lot peer pressure from an older friend. Sex was never something I thought about but when others place an importance on it, it makes it seem like a necessity. The person I thought was my friend kept her virginity and essentially used me as a way for her to know how it felt. But my actions are my actions. My friend had sisters and others that could walk her though stages of life. I had a bully. Later my mother and her husband ended up purchasing me a car with my own money. At the time my bank account was connected to theirs so they were able to save up to $500 of my check to make the buy. That car insured my freedom. BoJangles and I went everywhere together. More recently my mother and her husband say they actually purchased the car with their own money. IDK the Truth, but my mental health is worth more than a car.
So why did I not use my family as a resource? I did. The one time I retreated to my Aunt’s home, it did not go well. Not due to my Aunt, but the response I got once I returned home. I was kicked out again for who knows why with BoJangles also. Being over my Aunt’s felt comfortable. I felt like I was in a warm, supportive environment. My Aunt has a close relationship with my older cousin so I felt at peace. Apparently, my Aunt called my mother at her job to question her about why I was put out. This infuriated my mother. Why was her daughter, me, running her mouth and telling other people our business. Even though my Aunt was family and I needed help. This is a common theme in black homes. We are forced to push our issues underneath a rug and deal with the emotional effects in silence or when we are older. To continue, my mother then went on to tell me that my Aunt did not want me there and I was wasting space at her house. So I left my Aunt’s house and returned home. Today I still do not know if my Aunt really said that, but I did not feel right knowing I disappointed my mother at that age.
But hell it is not as though my family would have protected me. I have had cousins that violated me at a very young age. I’m talking 5/6 years old, before a person really knows what is right and what is wrong. I thought they just wanted me over their house because they cared, does not seem that way now. The stories of hurt and pain of years upon years of being hated could continue on and on.
Later my Uncle moved in with my mother and her husband. It was nice having my Uncle around. He could brute some of the disrespect I dealt with. I do feel as though the negative banter that was apart of their bond so if did not hurt him as it did me. Plus he was a full adult. My Uncle moved in with my mother and her husband because he had multiple health concerns including severe diabetes. My mother did everything she could to support his health. She used his insurance to hire a nutritionist for a couple days. I would help as well. I would remind him to take his insulin when needed. There were times I would feel strange. I would enter his bedroom and he would look almost skeletal from a diabetic shock. My mother would call the ambulance and off he would go. I believe my mother had little love or affection for me because she was busy nurturing my Grandmother, my Uncle, and her husband. There was no room left for me. Is that her fault? No. Does it suck for me? Yes.
Jumping to Senior Year of High School I began to understand that I was raising myself. My mother would proudly tell people “I am uninvolved in Paris’ life” and they would laugh, not knowing my hurt behind the reality. I was ridiculed for wanting to go to IVY Tech before going to college so I could save money. Her response, “People know what school they go to well before it is time”. Yet, neither her or her husband went to college or took the time to discuss it with me. This later led to me doing everything on my own. I was 16 years old filing taxes and completing my FAFSA. Are you surprised that I made a few mistakes? I am not. She never wanted to invest time into my life but always had an opinion. Naturally, due to the mistakes I made on the FAFSA, my mother and her husband, I had to spend more for my first year than was needed. Consequently, I had to hear “when are you paying us back” for years, as if I were wrong when she should have been a mom and helped from the get go. Once again she would only address this in private, when her husband was gone. “When are you paying us back” “When are you paying us back”? The answer is: Never. If you would have stepped up to the plate then this predicament would have not occurred. I was made out to be a “meal ticket”, not a daughter. Just a way for someone to gain material objects.
During my time at Indiana State it felt like I could finally had freedom. Freedom to have my own thoughts. Freedom from the negativity. I gained my confidence and self-love back.
However, during my Freshman year it was still all about her. I would have to hear stories about their relationship and her wanting a divorce. It was never Paris are you okay? How is school going? When that’s all I ever wanted. I would travel to Indianapolis on the weekend because Indiana State could be boring on the weekends. Plus, I missed my girls from Arlington. The girls I could cry to and feel support from. My homies! Or to work at the Pet Hospital I started at 14 years old. My Junior and Senior year I really stopped being home. I would try to find a friend or something keep me away from the fraud. I had boyfriends here and there during high school, but none very serious. I noticed my mother would take an interest in me when I did have a boyfriend. She would become curious, but without a boyfriend it was back to “I am uninvolved in Paris’ life”. She would tell me not to go over my boyfriend’s house looking crazy (which is not such bad advice- you should look put together wherever you go) because it embarrassed her, but did not teach me how to love myself. She would teach me how to take care of a man, but not my self-worth. Her favorite line when I was growing “Girls are Trained, Boys are Raised”. So was I being trained to be a housewife with no dignity, no self-worth? When her true colors started showing and the facade was gone my boyfriends would ask, “Why does your mother act like that?” or “Why does she talk to you like that?” How could someone so easily teach me how to take care of man (feed him on a plate) but lower her daughter’s self esteem (your stomach is hanging over your jeans….ewww). I think it is because she did not know how to love herself.
There was one time that I did believe my mother loved me. It was during my Junior year at Indiana State. I moved off campus due to my embarrassment surrounding a major dental surgery I had (even with the surgery I had to hear “When are you going to pay us back”, but of course only when her husband was not around). I was dead broke. I lived off of cans of spinach for months on months. But I got smart and filed for food stamps (I was sure to share them with my mother and her husband back in Indianapolis, because I still felt responsible for their financial debt). Then one day I was on the phone with my mother discussing a show I watched on Discovery. The show was about a young lady who had died in her apartment. Her body was not discovered for I want to say 2 years or some outlandish amount of time. That weekend my mother surprised me with a car full of groceries and a surprise visit from Bojangles. Seeing BoJangles was so cool. He finally saw where his Momma was all the time she was gone.
I thanked the Universe for that moment. I felt loved for once. I like to assume my mother took care of Bo while I was in school because she loved me but it does not feel like the Truth within me. Nonetheless, I can only assume and hope. Things were beginning to change back home in Indianapolis. My Uncle Damon passed away leaving my mother hurt. He was her best friend. I dropped out of Indiana State and moved back home. Not only because of my Uncle’s death, but because I did not feel like I was using my true potential. I wanted to changed my major from Biology and Chemistry. I was good at it, but at the end of the day I wanted to travel the world, help and study people. Indiana State did not offer Anthropology as a major only as a minor so it was time to go. Once back in Indianapolis. I moved into the Cottages with my down-to-Earth roommate. Everything felt great. I was able to live on my own at 19 years old with no support from my mother or her husband. I was short $50 on rent one time out of 12 months and they helped. Please believe they wanted that money back quickly and they received it. I worked two jobs (one at the Zoo the other at the same childhood Pet Hospital) and went to school full-time nothing could hold me back. My mother would visit here and there but not enough to cause harm to my mental state.
I applied to Butler University, Marian University, UIndy, and IUPUI. To my surprise I was accepted to all. I began classes at IVY Tech during the same semester I dropped out at Indiana State to not fall to behind. I took my first Anthropology class and fell in love. I could learn the physical and cultural human. I was soon a high scholar and proud. Just proud that I found something I was good at, something I could be passionate about. The biggest regret I will EVER have is moving back in with my mother and her husband after my first year at IUPUI. But, I had too. I knew I wanted to join a prominent Sisterhood and it would cost an arm and a leg. My mother and her husband definitely were not going to pay for it so I never brought it up. I worked day and night to raise the funds for myself, and it paid off. My dream of being acceptable in this Sisterhood came true. I did it!
I finished my last year at IUPUI with many accomplishments. I was on the Dean’s List more than once, I attended archeology field school, won two scholarships, joined my beloved Sorority, and became involved around campus in different ways.I began volunteering more often which led to other great opportunities, like Girls Inc. I made something out of myself. I saw myself flourishing so I wanted my mother to feel the same. At the time she was interested in flipping homes and real estate. I enrolled and PAID for her to attend classes. $800 GONE. But I never ask “When are you going to pay me back” a thousand times. I just took the lost. She never finished the course and a big part of me feels as though she was intimidated because there was no one she could control or feel smarter than in the classroom. Her narcissism was hindered. I highly doubt she went to more than 2 classes out of the 8 week program.
My last year at IUPUI was when things just became unbearable. I started acting out, basically begging for my mother or her husband to care. One would think how can someone with a house that looks like that be sad. A house is a house but a home is what makes it warm on the inside. I acted out by calling myself “fat”, “ugly”, “disgusting”, “trash”, “stupid”, ect in front of my mother but she seemed to enjoy this. A smirk would even rise onto her face. Her work was done. She was able to knock my confidence to an unreachable low and teach me negative talk.
I hardly drink……….but there was a time when I drank after spending some time with a guy who proposed a situation that was completely inappropriate. I got in my car and took off. I was drunk and angry not a good combo. I ran into a median causing the bottom of my car to have difficulties. I arrived home just when the sun started peeking out from the clouds. My mother and her husband of course were disappointed but they did not care about me or my well-being. It was about the car. The material. Not the person inside. I must have been worthless. Only worth whatever I could offer them n return. I was never asked, “Hey is everything ok” or “What is wrong with you”. I know it is not good to seek attention and that is hardly in my personality but I thought it would have worked at least once. When graduation rolled around I barely invited my mother and her husband. I was put out the house again before these events. I did not invite them to Black Grad at all. It’s not like they would care. It was not about them, it was about me so their interest was not there. At graduation they were sure to let some tears out and they may have been genuinely proud, but right after they must have assumed I would make the big bucks and their worries would be over. I went from house to house staying with friends and others.
They did not want me in their house either especially with BoJangles. I had no one to care about me and I do not blame them. The energy I brought into their home was a shadowy one. I probably looked pathetic to the outside world. How could I be of this age (22 years old) and be filled with such darkness? They were not fit to handle these deep problems I carried and how would that be fair to expect them to? I started to hate myself even more. I had no one. They all viewed me as weak or with extreme judgement as if they were better than. And maybe they were. I was mentally exhausted. Their mothers loved them, they had stability. People looked at me as a “Debbie Downer” or make comments such as “What’s wrong with her now?” even rolling their eyes if someone finally asked about my well being. I am genuinely an optimistic person. But the Truth is…..these labels hurt even more. It was like I could not win for losing. Everyone hated me and sometimes I still feel like they still do. No one saw the fake smile I put on my face day after day as if this did not hurt. No one acknowledge my strength to carry on.
What hurt the most is when her husband kicked me out of his brand new Jeep (but yet finances were such an issue) while I cried and begged for him to be my dad and listen for once. But his wife was more important than my pain and tears. How can someone that has been in my life since the age of 8 know nothing about the household he lives in? I had great love for my mother’s husband. He was a kind man who rarely raised his voice, he offered help with so many things that I will forever be grateful for. I learned how to change a tire and check my oil because of him. But this changed when I realized he would take my mother’s side no matter what, even without knowing how I was treated. This changed what I wanted in a future husband. I would never want to be with someone who would allow me to think my wrongdoings were ok. I would respect my husband for having his own perspective and not just assuming that “because she is my wife she is right”. That is the most blinded statement I have ever heard in my life. I could not follow someone into the fire just because they’re my spouse. I would redirect them. Though the moment he told me “You are stupid for thinking about Law School, it’s never going to happen” I realized he was not my step-father or my dad. He was my mother’s husband. He belong to her, not to me as a dad. All those time she would tell me to get myself together before her husband got home. All those times she told me I was embarrassing her in front of her husband. All of those time I stood up for him when she was being unruly did not matter because he would not do the same for me. She even told me she was going to kill herself because I stood up for him once. She had alcohol on her breathe and a gun in her hand. He could not dare utter to his wife, my mother, that she was wrong and needed to check herself. I was left to stick up for myself and told I was disrespectful whenever I did so. I never said anything off the handle. Just “No I am not lazy” “No I am not a hoe”.
The first time I ever in life got loud or disrespected my mother was when enough was enough. Who did she think she was to carry on in life thinking her behavior was suitable. Who was she to think is was ok to continue treating me as such? She knocked on my bedroom door yelling and cursing. I snapped I called my mother’s husband and told him to come get her because of her behavior. We had literally just gotten back from seeing my Grandmother’s grave. As soon as we get home my mother tells me I have a car payment due in 2 days of $400 when she blew my entire savings of $1300 on a car I did not want 4 days earlier. Then asked me why I did not have it. Maybe I should have asked the same thing when she hassled me to pay her and her husband back the school money they took out.
I was in no condition for the foolery. I missed my Grandmother. Especially in this moment because she was the only one brave enough to stand up to my mother.
When my mother hit my door again, I lost it. “Get the Fuck off of my door!”, I screamed. “I fucking hate you, you are the worst mother I ever known” “Get the Fuck away from me”. All the years of holding in my true feelings were coming out. I felt bad but at the same time she never felt wrong for how I was treated. She did not feel bad for not nurturing me or breaking down my self-esteem. She enjoyed it. She liked feeling like the better woman. There was no room for a woman (age 13 even) to be in her household. She had to feel in control, there was no room for a future Queen to grow. She finally backed off. I knew something else was going to come and if it was a fistfight I was ready. Instead she took my car keys. This was a car that 1) She illegally forged in my name. 2) Was way overpriced. I would never in my right mind pay such a price for the car I have. I worked 3 jobs (still do) to pay the $4000 car off. I eventually received a text and a tweet saying my mother’s husband spent his winnings on to pay off my car. But honestly my heart was so bitter at the moment I did not care. I worked my payment down to $500. It was only one paycheck away from being paid off. I appreciated the gesture but it did not mend my heart. I moved. Having a place I knew I could call home took so much weight off my shoulders. I did not have to worry about getting kicked out or talked down to. Though those experiences did hurt me and carried a heavy baggage on my mind.
The last blow came when BoJangles was taken from the World. My mother and her husband wanted to put him down. I went to Indianapolis Animal Control to explain the situation and they said it was illegal to put down Bo without my permission. However, it still happened. During an interview I had with Animal Control I had to talk about this situation. I could never work for them. I was basically told that Bojangles was put down due to being lethargic (depressed). This is not a justifiable reason to kill a dog, my dog. I took the right steps. I left my number with them and never received a call. They did not want to tell me he was euthanized over the phone (probably because they knew they made a mistake), it took my friend going down there to ask (I was at work and was honestly to scared to do it myself). When my friend arrived they accidentally told him the Truth. My World was over. No more Grandmother, no more Bojangles, no more anything I loved or loved me back. It seemed as though my mother wishes came true. No one deserves love if she is not receiving it. If I do not love her first then I do not deserve it at all. To this day she still refuses to apologize. Her narcissistic behavior will lead to her never meeting her future grandchildren. She will not teach them to hate their mother.
maybe they were. I was mentally exhausted. Their mothers