If nothing else, I can count for my mom to get mad at something, or anything

I called my mom during the week we were in Southern California. She asked the usual questions, like how we all were doing, how was work, what the weather was like, and if I was planning to see my cousin who lives down here. And then, she said that my aunt who lives upstairs from her knew I was in Australia and asked if I told her.

“I may have told her,” I said nonchalantly. “I really can’t remember who I told.” I genuinely did not remember, nor did I care. This was all inconsequential to me.

“She said that (your cousin) told her,” she said, insistently. “You told him you were going?”

Here we were again, another pointless conversation about a nothing topic that I really did not care about. This is why I didn’t bother to call my mom at all while in Australia. What was the point? She would always find something to get frustrated or angry or jealous about. All we had to do was sit there and vegetate, and she’d find a reason to get mad.

“Yeah, I probably did tell him,” I responded. I still didn’t know where this was going. But the underlying message was: don’t tell anyone where you are going or what you are doing, ever.

“So did you tell her you were going, or did he tell her you were going?” she continued on.

Doesn’t she have anything else better to do with her time than obsess over something so dumb?

“I may have told her, and I definitely told him, but who cares who told what?” I said, getting audibly irritated. “I don’t care!”

If there are trigger phrases to piss my mom off, they include this short list:

“I don’t care.”

“Who cares?”

“No one cares!”

So she immediately launched into attack mode: “You need to talk NICE to me! I told your father the SAME thing. You don’t say ‘who cares’ or use that tone with me! I don’t deserve it! I can’t take it! I won’t take it anymore! I am depressed and have anxiety and am resentful!”

It was her usual rant once again, post Ed’s death. So then I said some brief things to counter her, tried to keep my tone level, and eventually hung up. I’m almost 37 years old. I don’t have the time or the patience to deal with her constant dysfunction, self victimization, or verbal abuse anymore.

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