A couple of years ago, at a family lunch, my sister walked into the room with my mother on speaker-phone. Apropos of nothing, my mother started picking through family members with venom. One was ‘lazy’, another was ‘awful’, my aunt was ‘well, she’s fine’.
And then it came to me. I, according to my mother, was the ‘bitch who’s always hated’ her.
A withering verdict which stung, though it was not wholly unexpected.
My mother hadn’t known she was on speaker-phone. But at that moment, something within me snapped. I became calm and resolute. I didn’t need her in my life any more.
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