I have to cut my tongue out

My mother finally left, let the rejuvenating begin.

Part of the process is going to involve silence on my part -- which is not something I am usually capable of, but it's either that or the tongue removal.

When I talk I can hear voice similarities, that part is unpleasant but bearable. It's when I talk to my kids and I hear that tone, that way, that thing she does that makes everyone in the room go bug eyed with make it stop urges pushing eyeballs forth like a room full of Marty Feldman's.

I'm not near as annoying/horrifying, but it's there -- that thing.

I'm not being overly dramatic over a cliche about how we all grow up to be our parents, no. My mother? Not a good mother. Very bad mother. Shouldn't be let in my front door -- mother. Mentally ill in a --with psychotic episodes -- way, can't just turn her loose for the rest of society to deal with. Gotta do my part in the family support network for the mental.

She echoes for days after she's been here. When I hear her in my own voice it sends waves of self hatred through me. I just don't need to deal with the emotional chore of debating with myself about who I am, on top of the heavy burden of decompressing from the word defying upheaval she creates every time she is near.

Beyond the pressing of childhood buttons there is the energy tapping spectacle that lives in my world and her name is mom. It sucks, it sucks, it sucks out loud.

It sucks more now that I am a mom than it ever did while growing up with crazy.