Gestalt: a conversation with Mom

I read today in Inquiring Mind an interview with a meditation teacher who also does Gestalt therapy. While walking from work to the bus, I decided to try one of the exercises he described. I had an imaginary conversation with my mother, first taking the role of me, then taking the role of Mom. Here's a very condensed version:

Me: It feels useless to try to describe this to you. Hopeless. But here goes. You really failed to give me what I needed growing up, Mom. You abandoned me emotionally whenever I was upset. You taught me that I can only be loved when I am quiet and compliant. This was painful then and continues to hurt me.

Mom: Theresa, I can't believe you are saying these things to me. I don't know what you are talking about. I gave you everything. I loved you, you were my baby. How can you say these things?

Me: See, you still can't witness me being upset. You have never been able to. You failed in all the most important things. I really don't like you. In fact, I can't stand you. I hate you.

Mom: This is too much; I don't know what to do. Why are you saying this to me? I can't take this! I just can't take it anymore! What's wrong with you?! You need a psychiatrist. Stop it or I'll call 911!

Me: Mom, I despise you! You're hollow, weak, empty, fake. I don't really care what you say or what you think. (and much more along those lines)

This progression actually took about 10 minutes and included many more rounds of back and forth. Finally, I found myself using a different voice for Mom, the voice of her Buddha nature:

Mom: You're right, Terry. I failed you in important ways. I understand that you hate me. That makes sense. You and I have suffered in similar ways. You are fortunate to have many more tools than I did. You are much more awake and when you are old like me you will be even more awake. May you have peace in your old age. I am happy for you.

Me: Mom, I am sorry that you didn't really even have a chance. I am sorry that your spirit was beaten down irrecoverably at a young age. I am grateful for the tools you did give me. I am grateful that I received what I needed to begin to wake up.

Then I got on the bus.

This didn't feel like any big catharsis, but it was interesting. When I began, the conversation didn't have much juice, and I didn't know where it might go. It seemed like there was nowhere for it to go. But that was incorrect.

The article I read suggested that conversations such as this are really conversations with oneself. And that, when we recognize this, we become more free. But it's not obvious to me how this is a conversation with myself.