I have had enough
stuff rattling around in my head making noise so I cant concentrate on anything else.

Bugger it
Bugger wanting the unattainable - wanting someone to want me. Wanting to matter to them.
Who ?
My mother.

But she doesn't - she doesn't enough to say...hello, or "Sorry" or "I was wrong."

Not enough to even consider she might have been wrong.

I have raved and ranted and cried and beaten myself up these last two years.
I don't know what she has done,and I am done caring.
I'm not just saying that in hope, I'm just done.

Because I am ENOUGH.
This me right here is enough.

I have twisted and turned on guilt and wondering if I made enough effort, could I have tried harder, could I have been better? Would it have been possible for me to have done more? Maybe I didn't try hard enough.

It's horrible to always doubt yourself. It claws at you.
People say nice things and yet..you slide a barrier between you and the niceness. one that says in the silence of your head "Perhaps? maybe? but I could have done better"

Well it turns out I have been looking at this stuff the wrong way round.

When I left home I phoned , but not enough.
When I left home I visited - but not enough.
When I showed affection, through acts , through gifts through words, through time spent, it wasn't enough.
When I achieved things in my own life, they were..not enough.
My involvement and responsibility for the family,
was not enough.

I was not enough.

I have gone through my life seeking the approval of others - seeking to see approval in their eyes - people I shouldn't have wanted the approval of, people who took advantage - people who used me...I had no boundaries - no self esteem, "just like me - please like me - I am trying as hard as I can"
Maybe I have a little more to give
Maybe I can humiliate myself in a funny way
Maybe if I am nothing...just like  me pleeeeeese.

It doesn't work - its not healthy - and its all back to front.
The thing I should have asked, the thing we, as children of narcissists are deflected from asking,  is:
What would have been enough?

If I had phoned every day,
every hour.
Visited every weekend.
Gave them everything I earned?

The scale of response would have gone - "not enough - still not enough - even now, not enough...and then straight to - "There is something wrong with you !"
It would never have gone:

"Oh thats perfect. That is exactly right"

What I got was a very distant hope of approval, set deliberately out of my reach.
and in that gap ?
That gap between what and who I was and their approval were all their excuses.
Everything became my fault because I wasn't trying hard enough, 
I wasn't meeting their expectations,
they, after all,  just wanted me to be the best person I could be thats why who I was now was never good enough - they were being nice to me.

I internalized that as a child and have brought it all the way to today
a day when my mother may be alive or dead. (schrodingers mother?)

She still hasn't given me her approval.
I don't think she can.
She didn't give to anybody else - not her own parents - not my sibling - not her brother - her husband ..not anyone I know - she didn't approve of any of them,
so I'm not going to take it personally anymore.

I'm not carrying her burden anymore either.
She was wrong - that standard she set - that impossible standard was not my burden to carry.
She didn't live to that standard (If I reverse the list she did nothing on it)

I hoped for something beyond her capability to give, and yes - I do see the irony in that.

but to hold out the hope of it
to use it as a method of control and a way to get me to comply and to constantly move it away from me.
it is a sad sick lazy way to parent

She is moving house.
I only know by accident - she will be moving somewhere smaller - perhaps a retirement home? - and she will be throwing away all the family memories.
The photos, the ornaments, the landscape of our childhood.
I had though once she was dead I would walk around my childhood home again,
but it is not going to happen.

I was sad about this at first, but now..not so much. I don't want to put my things away to have her clutter in our lives. To bring unease to rooms with things that I don't need, or to have sealed boxes in the loft I may never face.

Not that this is necessarily an option - but if I could - I wouldn't.
It is a dead thing this past -  She has things she has chosen around her,
they are not, and never where mine. Even things I coveted as a child are not things I want anymore.
They were shiny with stories about their value, their uniqueness or their place in family history. But remove that and  they are just bits of glass and glitter and not things I would want to catch my eye and have the goosebumps creep up my spine as I remember her polishing them.

As I know this now, that she will not make even the smallest effort to reconcile - that she will not pursue me I also know that I am enough, even as her absence from my life is intended to make a lie of this. Her absence is intended to prove I am not enough, and yet it is the opposite. I am not punished by her absence. I am not made less whole by it. People do not judge me poorly because she is not in my life.

I can see how the stories others who knew her fit into this now, I have been listening to them describe her and her behavior for a long time, but I have not really heard or understood them. But now from a distance I can see her through their eyes too, just as I am learning to see myself through their compassion.

She found reason to complain about everything I do or am when she could just as easily found something  to praise. Something to think worthy. After all other people care for me, think me clever, talented, lovable,
People I have met as strangers have come to love me, find value in my company, laugh with me, and sorrow for me because I grieve.

I have a worth
I am ...enough