Relationships in Journal

I’ve been thinking about a lot lately.

I complain about my mother a lot. To myself, mostly. Which is… unproductive. All complaining is unproductive. And it stems from a lack of boundaries. A lack of defining myself.
Some-most- all, maybe- of that is because of the way she and my dad raised me. I know that now, and that makes me even more angry at my mother and more inclined to complain about her to myself.
But all that’s just a useless unproductive cycle, isn’t it? Me complaining and being angry about what happened is just my unhappiness with the situation. Complaining about it just perpetuates my own unhappiness, without changing the situation.
So.
What do I need to do to change the situation?
Well… I think I need to define what is acceptable or not for myself. I’ve thought about that. My mother makes me mad, she constantly crosses my boundaries, she is perpetually offending me, and I allow her to do it. I enable it by crawling back, by responding angrily to her jabs, by feeling betrayed by her loyalty to my dad even when she clearly chose him all along and still chooses him.
I cannot accept anyone who chooses my dad over me. He has positioned himself against me and has tried to destroy me at every opportunity. I will never allow anyone who accepts him over me into my life.
I will not allow anyone in my life who insults and calls me names. Especially once they deny that they ever did it, and refuse to apologize or make amends.
I cannot have a relationship with anyone who refuses to address the issues that directly affect my life. If they want to be in my life and have an affect, but refuse to communicate about it, I cannot stand by and be passive.
I will define and enforce consequences for crossing my boundaries. I will address every offense with the offender, and let them make a decision in cool rationality. But I will not chase after these people who offend me. I will not continually leave the door open for further offenses. I will be positive and open in conversations about it, but close the door firmly when that conversation is over.

I wonder why it was so easy for me to close the door on my dad, but not my mom.
Perhaps, my dad has simply been so open in his hostility and hatred for me that it was simply clear cut and easy to do. I have complete closure with my dad. I’ve had closure about my dad since I was 6 years old.
Why can’t I have that with my mother? Why do I hold out hope? Is she just so good at deceptive idealization that I can’t shake the illusion? Her actions are the same, always. But she says the right things. She apologizes, makes tears, does the whole pitiful mother I love you so much why are you doing this to me spiel. And that annoys me. But it also keeps me wondering, and hoping.
It’s her sticky poison trap of longing for something that I never had; the sickly promise of love constantly withheld.
It’s hard to get enough of something that almost works.

And she’s really good at almost working.