Mother's Day. Again. Sigh.

Last year, I wrote this post about Mother's Day.

Note this particular passage in my post:
I finally admitted to her [my mom] that the traditional Mother's Day gathering at my aunt's house (complete with my uncle's sisters and their kids - one of whom shares the same name as my son and is not far from his age) is just too hard on me. I hate being there, I hate seeing the kids, I hate what the whole day represents, I hate that they (out of goodwill) ask about my son and do I have pictures and blah blah blah. (I put it a little more gently to my mom, though.) And I explained to her that it was more important for me to be with her than with a bunch of people I don't really know or like. The day is really supposed to be about MY mom, not spending time with a bunch of other moms. She completely understood, and is more than happy to oblige. I'm relieved, though it doesn't seem to make the coming weekend look like it's going to be any easier.

One thing that made me laugh a little was when I told my mom all that about not wanting to go to the gathering, she was surprised because I've never said anything before, and it's been eight years since I had Jake. I said "yea, well, that's because I fake it and just get through it as best I can and pretend everything's okay." She said "You know, I thought that might be the case. You are so....'hard'....you act like things are fine and don't bother you, but underneath I always wonder if you're really hurting."

So two days ago, I'm on the phone with my mom and she says, "Oh by the way, Mother's Day is at 2pm at your Aunt's house." After a brief silence I said, "Ummm...okay." What did my mom come back with? "Well you don't have to go if you don't want to." In her best 'I can't believe you have better things to do than spend time with your mother!' voice. She sounded like I just cancelled fucking Christmas or some shit.

FUCK. Fuck fuck fuckety fucking fuck!

Not only 'Fuck' I can't believe she thinks that, but 'Fuck' I can't believe I have to explain this to her all over again. Apparently, I had no business thinking she would just remember last year and my heartfelt explanation. Apparently, this is a conversation I'm going to have to have with her EVERY FUCKING YEAR. Gee, that sounds like fun! Because I just LOVE talking about my pain and why shit like this is hard for me because it's such a treat to POINT OUT MY SHORTCOMINGS TO OTHERS, ESPECIALLY TO MY MOTHER! Fucking terrific. Maybe while I'm at it, I could re-hash what a disaster the rest of my life has been! Not just the part about me being a selfish asshole who gave my son away and now has a problem celebrating a day created for mothers, but also how I never went to college so I'll never have a "good" job or make "good" money and how I couldn't have a lasting relationship if you held a gun to my head because the best I can do is attract a married guy who doesn't even really want me, but I'm a doormat for him so of course he sticks around because why would anyone leave free pussy?

Awesome. So my choices are: Have a shitty conversation that I don't want to have again, or go to this stupid shitty bbq and pretend I'm not miserable. Hm. Either option makes me want to puke.