Divorce Part II : How NM blamed it all on me

My mother went on like nothing happened after the divorce.  Blissfully happy in her new family and new life.  I was hurt that she could cast my sister and me aside so easily, but I still loved her so much, wanted to support her, wanted to be a part of her life.  I desperately did all I could to be the good daughter.
When I went away to college, my relationship with my mom (Hilda) changed.  I thought at the time that it was for the better.  She called me all the time.  Not to check on me really.  Oh, she asked about me and "worried" and "stressed" about her poor, silly daughter, so far from home.  So far from her.  (And as a side note, I had somewhat intentionally chosen to go to college as far from her as possible.  My releasing had began even if I didn't fully realize it.)  But she never really seemed to listen or care about the things I was struggling with.  Mainly because it didn't compare to the things she was going through with my sister.  Those were REAL problems.  This would be, and still is a theme, in my relationship with my sister and mom.  Their self-induced drama and problems and chaos were always so much more important than what was going on in my life.  How can you complain, Jessie?  What do you have to be sad about, Jessie?  If you want to know about a real problem, Jessie let me tell you about....  And, yes, the things going on with my sister were bad.  She had always been a "spirited" child.  But after the divorce, she went crazy.  Drugs, running away, rapes, sex with boys, not coming home.  On and on.  And my mother would call, detailing every bit.  She would complain to me and cry.  I felt horrible.  I felt helpless.  There was nothing I could do, especially 400 miles away.  My sister and I didn't even talk at this time.  We would be estranged and loathe each other for a long time (mainly created by my mother, but that is another post).  Hilda would tell me I was like "her personal psychologist".  This made me feel important at the time.  My mother needed me!  After years of ignoring me, she needed me.  I can see now, that it was killing me.  I was so helpless and these problems were beyond my ability to fix.  Not that my mother did anything either to help.  She just enabled and enabled.  Lamented about why she was so unfortunate to have a daughter like my sister.  Years later I would suggest that maybe the divorce or her behavior had something to do with it.  My mother cried and became upset, yelled that she was a horrible mother.  But what did I want her to do about it.  "I can't take back the past!  I had to do what was best for me!"  She said she was sorry, but I never believed her.  I lived with knots in my stomach for years.  What should've been a wonderful period of growth and discovery for me, became about her and her problems and her stress.  Trips home were awful.  And on occasion, she would drop my sister off with me.  So she could get away and relax.  These occasions terrified me.  To be responsible for someone so out of control.  To have someone around me who was so volatile and could wreck havoc in the little support system I had created at school.  I was terrified my sister would reveal the craziness that was home to my friends.
I met my husband around my junior year.  The relationship with my mom started to dissolve. When I wasn't there for her solely, she became upset.  We became combative.  As I found myself, and with support from my husband (then boyfriend) I began to move out of her control.  I  was not at her beck and call.  I tried to create my own life.  She became desperate.  She would call and cry and overwhelm me with  her constant need for attention.  And when she would visit, things would get bad.  They always ended in arguments.  The fights always started with her being condescending, or rude, or putting me or Paul (hubby) down.  She would accuse me of not being there for her in her problems with  Erica.  I would tell her that it was killing me and she needed to learn on her husband or call my father.  My father sent her into rages because she no longer controlled him.  She wanted him to parent as she was parenting.  To obsess and enable my sister.  And then when he didn't, her anger turned to me and she would say "It's not fair that I'm the only one dealing with Erica.  I shouldn't have to do this alone.  If I have to deal with it, you all should deal with it too.  If I have to have this stress in my life, so should you."  Why should I? I wanted to scream.  I didn't create her messes.  I was helpless to fix them.  I had my own life.  She never tried to shelter me, or protect me.  She wanted to drag me down into her hole.  Anyway, these arguments would happen and when I would confront her, she would play her trump card.  "You're not over the divorce" she would smirk.  As if this was my fatal flaw.  And I never knew how to respond.  Because, yeah, I really wasn't over it.  I had never grieved, never mourned, never had any moment to express MY feelings.  I was always so busy taking care of everyone else.  But that was beside the point.  This wasn't about that anger.  This was about her being rude and spiteful and selfish.  She would spit "you need therapy".  Again, this was true.  But she acted as if I got "fixed" then all the problems would disappear.  We would no longer have conflict.  She refused to see that she had ownership in anything.  And as these fights layered on each other, my frustration grew.  And she would amp things up with each fight.  And then one time, she told me she had gotten the divorce for Erica and me.  My dad was poor and angry and depressed.  And she felt that Hank would be a better father.  She blamed ME for it all.  I couldn't even fathom how she concluded this.  How she spun things to make herself seem the hero, making the selfless sacrifice for her daughters.  Never mind that my Dad wasn't as horrible as she made out (he was hard and angry but definitely not some loser father) but I never could have "replaced" him.  I loved my Dad.  Never mind that SHE benefited the most from this event. Never mind that she repeatedly told me she had done this for her "freedom".  When cornered, she turned around and blamed me.  I began to harden towards her.  And finally, after one argument, where she berated me that I needed to get over things, I needed to let go,  I needed to fix myself, I lost it.  Hell yeah, I was angry.  Hell yeah, I was hurt.  "You abandoned me and Erica when we needed you so that you could go and  fuck Hank."  Silence.  I was small and sad and tired in the back of the car. I'd felt like a beaten, caged animal.  She had pushed me too far.  I instantly felt horrible, guilty.  But I also felt a little better.  And that made me feel guilty.  She had been pushing me to say this for so long.  I had resisted because I knew she'd only use it against me.  Hold a grudge until the day she died.  But there it was.  She burst into tears.  Demanded Paul take her to her hotel.  Paul suggested we go sit down, talk this out.  No, she screamed.  We took her to her hotel.    The next day she showed up at my door to drop off my blow dryer she had borrowed.  She stood expectantly on my doorstep, waiting for an apology.  I gave her none.  And she gave me none.  Just gave me a hug, stated that she loved me, and moved on.  And we've never talked about the divorce since.