Monthly Archives: September 2013

Enough

My family is crazy. It's no wonder I have problems.


Today I had an angry, confused mother who thought she was going home and was mad that

a. it wasn't true,

b. her coffee was cold (my drive is 40 minutes and she likes the coffee & pastry from a place near me), and

c. I talk too much( I'd spoken less than ten words at that point).

All of which seemed out of my control and she was damn rude about it.


Of course she's in pain.

Of course it sucks that she's in the hospital.

But it's no excuse for taking it out on the person who is trying to be there for you. And I told her so. I also told her that if she kept it up, I would leave. She shut up. And then we did our best to work around the elephant in the room that is our failedrelationship.


She wanted a hug. I could tell. But she's a cactus. And she doesn't know what she needs or wants.

Kind of like the daughter she raised.


I feel bad for her. And I feel bad for me. I know for a fact that she will die and there will be guilt. Hers will be over. Mine will live on. It's frustrating. It's life with a narcissist. Not the cute version. The one in the DSM.


I also dealt with my aunt, secondhand, as she loses her mind over someday losing her sister.

Blame the drugs.

Blame the daughter.

Blame the doctors….

Just don't blame yourself and don't just accept.

It's all so very depressing and maddening.


And here's me…just trying not to get hit by the aimless bullets. Living to assuage the guilt firmly seated on my shoulders.


When I was six, my mother turned to me while we drove down the street…

Honey, if I fell dead on the steering wheel, what would you do?”

And then as I started crying, she explained how to grab the wheel and shove her lifeless body over so that I could hit the peddles.

My mother…such the planner.


I can't tell you the first time my father told me that I was killing my mother if I didn't do the dishes…I think it was around the same time. Her heart has always been a problem. Except when it wasn't. Like when she wanted to do something.


Today, as always, I live in constant fear. Of death. Of life. Of doing things wrong.

Today I told my mother to stop being rude to me. It felt good to deal with her. To not allow my guilt to wait until I explode. Italked to her like The Cute. And it worked. She shut the fuck up. I wish I could go back and high five that six year old and tell her….look…don't worry…she's going to live till 71.

It's a ruse.

You were and are perfect.

You love them…that's enough.
You are enough.

Thank you for the coffee, pastry, and the time, cause she'll never say it.

I love you.

A new beginning

 

My mother broke her hip.

 

It's been that kind of month. My mother is 71 with an attitude. Just that…a tude. And we haven't really been the best of friends in the past 18 years…since she and my dad divorced. After he beat me up and left me on the side of the road on the way to college…

 

It was the culmination of 20 years of mental abuse. That had threatened on many occasions to get physical. It might have been better if it had…it would have been more black and white. As it was then, and now, it was grey. Always in my life. Shades of grey. Sometimes I embrace them. Sometimes I hate them. This is one of those times that is both.

I love my mother. But she was a big enabler. A big part of the problem and not so very unlike my father…just less so. And so my feelings at the end of her life are mixed. I've tried to get us to go to therapy together. Nope.

I've tried to talk to her about how she treats and talks to me.

Nope.

So it just is what it is. Grey.

And so are my thoughts lately. I love my mother. I hate her being hurt. I've put my all into the past few weeks helping and stressing myself out. I hurt. My family is now sick with the flu. And I've had a giant chip on my shoulder about the whole thing. Maybe because of all she represents. Maybe because all the drama,one year to the date of the last hospitalization, has brought out the grey in eveything and everyone I love.

Friends. And husband. And life…all shaded in grey. I want to love my life and all it encompasses. But I don't right now. I should. But I don't. And I know I'm a big part of the problem. And I can't just run away from that. I've spent the last couple of weeks hating myself. For my choices. For my needs. For my feelings. For everything. But I can't do that. It just brings everything to a grinding halt. Hence the no blogging.

I know what I want. I think.

I want to love myself. I have to…for my sake, my life's sake, my child's sake.

I want purpose. I can definitely change that. Find that. If I stop the panicking.

I want beauty and romance. And that I can do for myself…want to do for my child.

I want adventure. And that is a matter of opinion. One I need to change for the sake of my child.

I want someone who cares deeply for me. Someone willing to upend their life for me. I want a village. I want to cherish and be cherished. But the truth is that I'm kinda broken. Was from the beginning (see forementioned abuse) and so I don't think I'm wired to choose that kind of life. Some parts of me don't like me very much and don't think I'm worthy of it despite hours of therapy. Some parts don't like to gamble cause the people who were supposed to be a given weren't. So I went with the easy and the aloof. And so that's what I get. And that's not to say that those people in my life aren't a thousand shades of wonderful in their own way….it's just not what I dreamed of. And truthfully, I think that's the epic search all abused children make. They want desperately for that unconditional love they never had; that they were supposed to have. That relationship so sacred between parents and children. And my chance came and went…against my will but it didn't break me and so that's something. I made it this far and I don't seem to be passing it on to my little one. And I am making sure it won't. But for me, I have to stop this endless searching. This needing. And let go. Grieve and let go.

And so I need an attitude adjustment.

Some things I've chosen are permanent and so I need to readjust my way of thinking. Others are changeable…and so I'm going to change them.

But the bottom line is…I need to stop wallowing. It's not just my life anymore. My child is watching and learning and it's not fair for my life to interfere with his. And maybe someday, he will be in this same place. I need to help him make his way back to happy. And so I need to make my way back to happy.

So I know the map.

So this is a new beginning. For the blog. And for my mind. I am worthy of being perfectly happy…and it's time to find a way to there. On my own (in my mind), at first and then when I'm full up then maybe I'll learn to lean again. But I hope to get myself to at least write every other day or maybe every day with my journey to my new happy. I deserve this.

Everyone does.