Ready For A Long Story?

Seriously, it's like my own mother doesn't see me. No, it's true. She doesn't see me.

Even when I try to softly explain and rationalize, nothing goes through.

She expected to sit in with me at my physician's appointment when I get up the courage to go.
I eased into this conversation and told her that I am a very private person and even telling a doctor my personal woes is a very daunting hardship for me.

Of course she didn't hear what I was trying to say. She quickly butted in assuming that she knew and kept saying, after I repeatedly tried to rephrase my statements to gauge better understanding, "Yeah, I know I know. I won't say anything, I'll just sit there."

No mother, I can't have you sit there.
I tried again telling her that it's already so difficult to tell a doctor my personal sentiments and to open up. Also, that would mean there are things I don't want her to hear either because I don't want her to feel parental guilt or fault. I told her I didn't want her to feel bad for the things that I would ultimately reveal soon enough. I meant that I didn't want to hurt her.

Tell me how is it humanly possible to start this conversation and ultimately have it become turned around by my mother and suddenly be all about her. Tell me why does she always assume that everything is about her. Why does she get so defensive and think that factors are personal attacks on her when they're really not. Believe me, they are really not.
And to make matters worse she becomes phenomenally defensive and then comes the passive aggressive outbursts that are triggered from a completely different subject.

I was trying to get her to understand that this wasn't about her. She took it as me wanting to hide something from her. As if I had some superficial actions from my past to hide from her. No, I wasn't talking about the things I have done. I was talking about my own intertwined thoughts and emotions of which I have accumulated from my pathetic, lonesome, and mentally abusive and destructive childhood.

Then of course after the passive aggressive outburst comes the childish defense mechanism that only my mother could smoothly pull off and execute. She closed off and refused to listen or be even open to understanding my reasons behind my words or what I had to say to her. Or even why I wanted to share with her.

And you wonder why it is so difficult for me to open up. Everyone wonders why. Stop wondering and start seeing.

And what gets me the most are my pathetic never-yielding attempts to try and help her see me. Those deplorable acts of trying to help her with the sacrifice of myself. It's as if I am still a child still trying to vie for my mother's attention to try to get her to see me or try to get her to actually want to know me.

Really, it's like she doesn't even see me at all. She doesn't even know who I am or the things I hold so passionate dear to me let alone the reasons why I clutch them to my heart while holding on to this miserable existence of a life.
Even in the present when I openly speak to my mother I am impaled with the harsh realization, as I understand, that she really isn't paying mind to anything I say as she ceases to produce any sort of noise that would suffice as a response. Realizing that she just hears it as incessant and meaningless rambling from her 'whimsical, energetic, and eccentric' daughter. When in fact she doesn't know that I may very well be just the opposite.

After repeatedly and unrelentingly speaking in earnest and trying to get her to even open up her ears and eyes to look at me and really listen to me, the dialogue has quickly escalated into an immature fight among two high school girls. The only difference is is that she is almost 55 years old.

I'll admit I even went a bit far today, but when frustrated and angry we all have our faults of tongue.
First I remarked about how short a fuse she has because she is always so damn quick to become enraged. Then surprise surprise my supposed to be maturely aged mother but really not came back with "have you seen yourself?" Of course this being a jab at my own projected demeanor to others and I know I am very much irritated all the time and showing major signs of passive aggression.

But the thing is, I know why I am like this, or at least I am striving to understand why I can't help but be like this, and this is why I am aiming to seek help. This is what the physician's appointment is all about.
But does she try to put two and two together and understand?
No. She just decides that she has something to throw back into her daughter's face because she is just so hurt from her daughter's honest and sharing words.

Then I said well maybe I get it from you. And then she pulls out the big gun and states, "So are you saying I am to blame?"
Stupid me had to say, "Yeah I do." Big mistake. Big oops. (Better to sacrifice yourself and be hurt for the protection of your parents? Or to risk their hurt for the honesty they think they want but ultimately really don't?)
Thus opening a can of words and creating a massive cyclic chain of events of the whole childish defense mechanism I stated earlier in this post.

She doesn't realize that she just proved my point of why I do not want her to hear the things I have to say about my personal life because I don't want her to feel bad/guilty/hurt/whatever and take it the wrong way. Which I know she will.

I had just been honest with her (as I always am, I hate lying), but of course she got hurt and took it the wrong way. My point exactly. And henceforth made this conversation suddenly about her now.
And god seriously, I am so fucking pathetic. I still try with my mother after all the infuriating useless language. Why does my love have to be so fucking unconditional? Why do I seriously want, no need, my mother to understand me? Anyone else would have given up already, just like my mother who quickly just gives up time and time again much to my great disappointment. What is it with the neverending trials for a child to want the approval of her parents no matter how good or bad the relationship turns?

And then I called her childish. And then she threw a condescending motherly finger in my face and told me to watch my attitude. (Remember, this is the same mother of when I confessed my depression to almost half a year ago, told me that "Hey it's normal to be sad all the time." Really?)
Why doesn't she get that it's not juvenile attitude I am exuding. This is me trying to reach her. Why? I have no idea. Why I can't just be a normal kid? I have no idea. I just don't know any more ways to do so. It's like everything I try fails. And you can't believe how many times when she throws my own behavior back into my face that I want to say I am seriously a mere 22 year old and she the one who is supposed to be all ripely sagacious at the almost age of 55. Compare and contrast, it's a really rude awakening to get older and suddenly realize that at times it all turns around and it is almost as if you're more mature or reasonable one and that your parents are turning out to be quite childish. Fuck the neverending cycle of this so called life.

And of course how she is able to so resiliently bounce back and act like everything is fine after 10 minutes is beyond me. Does that prove of how little of importance she considers my really fucked up issues to be? Or is it defense mechanism/self-preservation/repression 101?

All the while I am left still stung by the failure or the things I can never achieve, solve, or relieve. I know I am partially to blame, but I am still trying to make whatever this fucked up shit is work. I am still trying while she refuses to. Why can't I ever just give up?