It seems as though every single day, I do something that pisses my mother off. She boasts to her friends that she is my champion, yet she violently swears and complains to my face about the slightest inconvenience. I could be sitting in the truck as she's driving, minding my own business, when all of a sudden, she'd bark "Goddamn it, Connor, what's wrong with you? Get out your goddamn mood!" I insist that I'm fine, and she'd crank the radio up loud, grinding her teeth and she mutter stuff like "sh*t" under her breath.
She asks me questions I can't possibly know the answer to, only scream at me for "not knowing". Her justification for this is because of my Asperger syndrome. Despite being in my presence for nineteen years, she remains utterly uninformed, and uses my diagnosis as a label.
She has not emotionally supported me over the last nineteen years.
She has not helped me learn how to survive in the world.
She insists on enabling my bad habits and flaws.
She can switch from borderline-sociopathic anger to Stepford Smiling with the space of a minute.
In general, she's no mother.
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Yes, I'm still alive.