When my mother was with me, all I could think of is to get away. Now that I moved away, I find that I can’t do anything enjoyable out of guilt, thinking she’s alone and suffering. But I don’t know how to talk to her. She drives me nuts. Her suffering has always been alien to me. Instead I’m just here in my room, doing nothing. It’s like a piece of atonement for me. It’s like since I can’t be there for her suffering, I shouldn’t dare to enjoy anything. There’s an empty court where I can shoot hoops if I want. There’s the whole internet to surf and television to watch. But it feels wrong and guilty. To have a part of my life I enjoy without being able to share apart from her. She’s batshit crazy, but she was there for me in her own way. Even though our relationship was unhealthy, my whole self had been devoted to her needs. Literally every thought in my head had been twisted and reviewed to see if it would somehow serve her and her needs. My one friend calls me stupid for feeling this way. My mother accused me all the time of always not thinking of her. When everything I do is always measured in relation to her. Everything. Now that she’s gone, it’s the parts of me devoted to her lost purpose. It hard to explain. I don’t think anyone could ever understand how I feel.