Do butterflies get trapped in spiderwebs?

There are so many layers to the lies that are constantly being uncovered in my mom's life. If I didn't pity her, I would be angry. I understand so much better why she has no friends. Those who find out or witness anything that she decides she wants to bury get pushed away and out of her life. Now there are none left.

Years ago, she'd planned on retiring with a close friend and they were going to share a home in the Philippines. No one knew what happened to that plan except her and that friend. Recently my sister-in-law ran into the friend on the street, and the friend inquired about mom's health because she was concerned about her following a stroke she suffered during one of their trips to the Philippines. This was maybe fifteen years ago, and no one else knew about it. Mom buried it by ending the friendship. I wondered what happened between them, but mom keeps so many secrets and takes so many things personally that I just dismissed it as another one of her perceived personal attacks. She used to say that the other woman was a witch and practiced voodoo. Now I see that was a tactic to keep me from talking to her and finding out the secret. 

I can't begin to estimate how many people and experiences I wrote off and avoided because of mom's advice. I thought that I was being a good daughter and listened to a lot of what she said, but she was wrong. It wasn't until my thirties that I really started to make my own judgments independent from my mother's opinions. My life hasn't been a huge success since then, but I have seen and done things of which she didn't approve and thoroughly enjoyed the ride. There is no life without risk, and there is no way to calculate every risk. Fear of risk is a crippling mental illness. I was raised on it. I don't think I'll ever be free from it, but knowing that it is there driving many of my subconscious beliefs helps me to move forward through what is often not as scary as I imagined.

I often feel like I am running out of time. These realizations about my beliefs and what has shaped them seem late. I'm 42, and I don't know what's to be done. Every time I stand my ground something falls apart. The safety net I thought I was building is an illusion. I am currently in the midst of financial ruin by my old standards, but I don't feel as suffocated by it as I felt when I was so busy trying to maintain the false sense of security. I'm not sure where my life is headed, and, for the first time, I don't really care. Things that were important to me before were based on values that were instilled in me by a liar. The only ones that mean anything to me now are those that I built myself in spite of my mother. I think she intended me to grow up to be a heartless gold digger or trophy wife. She didn't approve of any man I dated unless he catered to her (with cash gifts and physical labor). She never wanted me to care for anyone more than her. She was jealous of the tenderness I showed friends and insulted my generosity towards the downtrodden. She made me think that an open heart was a weakness, and that, above all else, was my defining personality characteristic. I couldn't change enough to be who she wanted me to be, so I just wanted to be nothing and feel nothing. That didn't work, of course. I tried sex, drugs, alcohol and gambling to numb out all the emotions. 

What's weird is that gambling is the worst of my vices, and just happens to be the only one she and I share. She gave me my first taste of it when I was about thirteen. We were in Reno for one of our "family vacations", and she decided that it was better for me to spend money in the casino than the arcade. I won a $56 jackpot on a nickel slot that first night, and the rest is history. Now, nothing feels as good as hitting a jackpot. Chasing gambling jackpots is what has ruined my finances. The drugs didn't stick. The alcohol didn't either. I wasn't sure why I was able to leave those vices before they got their hooks too far into me, but now I understand. Gambling feels like the old "happy family". The only time the family ever got along was when we were gambling together. I know now that it wasn't real. We were never happy together. We were merely distracted together. I have referred to my gambling habit as the greatest distraction I have, and it is the truth. I'm not sure if I can quit because I don't want to. I want to keep that distraction available to me. This lack of income is getting in the way.