Grimy Window

First, a flood of feelings about my mother. She was probably clinically depressed, plus she had so many children, no disposable income, and my father was never home (he was either trying to earn money to support his mob, or being a bishop or some other time consuming church calling). We got no nurturing at all. It was all about crowd control at my house. One was lucky to have semi-clean bedding or be able to find clean underwear (acceptable clothes were very low priority - maybe that is why I compulsively buy t-shirts and underwear for my children). And all with the backdrop of the repressive religion. It was all about guilt and fear and indoctrination. (I keep thinking I have a book-length semi-autobiographic thing inside just waiting to come out). This all sounds very negative towards my mother. We of course had many good moments and I don't really blame her looking back. She was very much a victim of the system which told her to pump out children whether or not she was emotionally able to have them, a system which told her that she was supposed to be perfect. So, I do feel warmth toward my mother, but our personal interactions are limited (I see her in the large group/whole family setting, but we don't have much to say to each other one on one). Now, especially with my "apostasy," our relationship is strained. There is nothing left to talk about. My parents are not even that interested in their grandchildren. They like them, like to look at them and count them, but they don't spend much time with them. They like to gather as a large, outwardly wonderful mormon clan, but don't want to interact one on one.