My Mother

My mother was seriously ill and I, her only daughter, became more and more in conflict with myself.
There was so much damaged by her behavior in my life that my anger towards her made that I didn’t wanted to visit her in the hospital.
Afterwards that was for the better because she didn’t want to see me.

For the outside world, she was a woman who had cared for her three children after her husband had left her while the youngest was two years old, hard-working and church-going. 
I knew a very different mother.
My mother seemed to hate me.
She invented stories about me behind my back to everyone that had put me a bad light.
In my youth I was abused by her numerous times and I was told that I was so bad that not even God could love me.
I needed help.

During the initial consultation, I noticed that I didn’t need to explain anything but that I was believed to be true.
She asked me the question: “Is she jealous of you?”
That question made visible what I previously had not been able to see.
My mother had hurt me so much that I never thought of myself as being person to be jealous off.
Once my mother had said to me: “I don’t see why your life should be better than my life.”

By using this realization I was able to let go of my past.
She had projected all her uncertainties and damages on me.
I knew that her youth had been not happy and that she had never overcome the separation with my father.

She died shortly afterwards without wanting to see me anymore.
I put a card in her coffin with the text: “Mom, by you I became a better person.”
A few weeks later the notary send me a copy of her will which showed that she had disinherited me.
My brothers were appointed as the executors of her will and have acted upon her last wishes.

She felt that she still meant what she had written on the card because despite of everything she hadn’t become like her mother.