My mother....

My mother, wow she rates for an entire journal entry of her own. This is an anonymous blog so I have no worries that she will read it, but hey MOM...if you are reading this I am sure you know I am talking about you because not many people are so totally whacked as you.
Hmmmm where to start??? I have a feeling this will be a long entry. I have wanted to journal about my mother all my life but there is so many things to say about her that I do not know where to start ( Oh, there is plenty to say about my dad and he is next...I will make another post to honor him as well...)
All my childhood memories of my mother are negative ones. My mother strived on chaos and making my life as full of stress and negativity as possible. My mom not only saw the glass half empty, she saw it cracked and dirty as well. She was cruel about quite a few things yet loved to play the martyer so always had to be the victom in everything.
I cannot remember one event that included my mother that did not leave me in tears or embarrased beyond belief. My mother loved everybody to think she was so kind and sharing that she would give things to other people that we did not even have ourselfs. She would bake huge batches of cookies and fudge and candy for Christmas and give them all away and not let my brother or myself have any. She would maybe let us have one if they were burned or broken but the rest was for other people. She would buy gifts for other people that she would say she could not afford. She would be so pleasant to other people but as soon as we were home she was not so nice at all. I would not say she was physically abusive though she did enjoy hitting me with a wooden spoon, fly swatter etc but not to the point I would think of it as abuse. She did 100% mentally and emotionally abuse me. I think she also made me feel emotionally empty most of the time. She liked to think she made me feel loved and did all these great things for me but in the end I did not feel any of the love because there was always a condition to her giving the love, always a string attatched.
I learned to never share personal stuff with my mother. She turned everything around and made it into something it was not. She liked to embellish stories and tell my dad them when he came home from work and then I think she sat back and smirked while he yelled at us for what we did and then when I said I had not done that then he was even more mad because he said that I was calling my mom a liar...she was and still is a liar, a manipulator and a very selfish self centered person.
I will end this post for tonight because I am going to bed but I will finish it in a day or so...there is so much to write that it may take awhile