My mom’s angry. She’s a short, 81-year-old Jewish Russian immigrant woman, formidable in her own way, but she’s always been angry. She’d never admit it, if confronted — I’m not suicidal enough to confront her. And now, after 80, she’ll never change. Luckily, I’m the one in therapy. This certainly explained me, as an angry child. But as an adult, I am self-aware enough, do enough meditation plus journaling to mellow out a great deal.
I cannot change her. Sure, I can have compassion for her, she didn’t have an easy life, but I can only change myself.