Yesterday I wished to talk to my mother. Just because I felt happy, relaxed and totally at ease. And that was, what I wanted to share. If things went well, I was even going to give her some details about the whys. But she was too quick in answering her question as to the reasons of my wellbeing herself. Saying once more the unbelievable: “Did you get back together with your husband? Is he standing behind you, as we speak? Is it that?”.
Why is she doing that to me? I should have known better. I know all she delights in is bad news and misery. I should have given her some complaints as a canvas for her to draw her own picture of defeat and suffering. And just listen to what ever she has to say.
You don’t know me
floatsome 