lol my mom has a crazy book too but it's just her diary.

I found it on accident one day and was floored by what I found in it. Basically every time I tried to do something nice for her, she wrote about me being a horrible, selfish person. Whenever I did something to intentionally piss her off, she wrote about it like I was a loving caring daughter. When I was upset about something, in reality she'd make a nasty comment to me. But in her diary, she'd write about how all she wanted to do was give me a hug but she knew I wouldn't let her. (Since I can't remember having any kind of physical contact with her and grew up not even knowing what a hug was, I can see how I'd recoil at her touch if she tried a hug. ugh it gives me the heebie jeebies thinking about it.)

I understand that we all perceive reality slightly differently; however, this was nowhere close to being reality. Finding that diary made me realize just how bat shit crazy she was. It was like reading a story set in Bizarroland.

What I also realized is she seemed to be writing this for an audience. I'm not sure who. A lot of it was in shorthand that even I couldn't figure out. I also found out she had been keeping diaries for years and had a suitcase full of past diaries hidden in the basement.

So after she dies is someone supposed to find this hidden treasure trove of diaries and read them? Vindication of what a lousy child I was and what a terrible husband she had and how wonderful she was? I don't get it.

Her crazy letters to me are written in the same manner. She doesn't write a letter to ME. She writes letters as if someone else will read them and will see what a wonderful, caring mother she is. The sad thing is, I'm the only one who sees her for what she truly is.

I truly hope I am never called to be on a jury where someone has been murdered and they name their killer in their diary. I wouldn't believe it. In my experience, a diary is something that is full of lies for a random audience, not a personal record of actual events.