I have been back from my travels for almost a week now and well I was
deciding what I should write about. I
will start off by saying that I really enjoyed my time in Vegas and could not
help but to have my thoughts on the final part of my trip. Since it still weighs heavy in my thoughts,
even now that I have returned, I will write about some of those thoughts, so I
can maybe organize them better in my mind.
When I first arrived in Florida I didn’t go straight to my mother,
instead I spent the night with her close friend. I guess I was just trying to prolong the
impending visit. While at my mom’s
friends house I went through the items that were put aside for me. There were some pictures as well as drawing
that my mother had done that she had saved over the years. I knew that my mother had journals and had
asked about them and her friend said that she had read them and didn’t feel
that anyone should read the words of a very depressed woman. I was extremely angry that she had made that
decision for me and honestly I was hoping that I could find maybe some answer
there as to why mom treated me the way she had or at least some kind of
indication of a reason at least.
The next morning I entered my mom’s room in the assisted living place
and found that she was quite weak and part of me hoped that perhaps she would
say something to me that was comforting or explaining why she treated me in the
manner that she had. What I found was
that I felt as though I was annoying her, the same feeling I had felt all my
life with her. She was short with me and
at times yelled at me. I did however, do
what it was that I knew I had to do and told her that I was thankful for her
trying the best that she could at being a mother. I lied and I know I did, but at least a part
of my mind believes it to be true.
I know that my mother could only be the kind of mother in which she was
taught and from what I have heard; my grandmother was not as kind as she was to
her own children as she was to her grandchildren. Funny thing is my aunt disagrees with my
mother on how it was to be raised by my grandmother. The sad thing is, I tend to believe my aunt
over my own mother. I have never been lied to by my aunt and have always been
lied to by my mother.
Was it wrong to expect the impossible?
I think about it now and realize that I always knew in the back of my
mind that I would never get any real apology for the way my mom treated me much
less having her admit that she did wrong.
I guess I just wanted to be able to have one of those kinds of hallmark
moments where I would feel compelled to get up from my chair and give her a big
hug. Or maybe I was looking for my
mother to be healthy again and want to get up and come to me with a nice warm
hug and hold me and let me know that everything was going to be alright. Maybe I am still looking for the security
that I had always needed as a kid. Guess
that is the impossible moment that I have always been looking for that I knew
was never going to happen.
Since I left, Hospice has taken over.
I received a call today from a woman at Hospice and she asked if I was
planning on going back down there. I
know the answer is no, but I told her I would see what I could do. I honestly don’t want to give myself some
sort of false hope of something that I know is not going to happen. I don’t want to watch her all frail and weak
and feel so mad at her.
She is going to die soon.
Actually it could even be tomorrow.
I feel a loss of something that I have never had with her. I wonder why it is that I feel that way. It is not like I ever thought I would have
that wonderful mother daughter relationship or anything. We are people who lived together and had
distaste for each other, but tried to pretend we didn’t. Do I wish I knew what
a true great mother daughter relationship was like? Oh yeah I do.
Sometimes I watch mothers and daughter who are out in public and am
jealous of them, even when they argue.
At least their arguments show how they care, rather than the put downs I
received from my mother or the constant put downs that I experienced throughout
my childhood.
Even now as an adult, I know that it was my mother who had a problem,
but I can’t help but hear her voice tell me how stupid I am for doing the
things I do. Maybe if I had been more
like my sister she might have liked me a little bit. Or maybe if my parents’ relationship got
better when I arrived she would have liked me more. Maybe if I was better able to keep my brother
from getting into trouble more or even took blame more for the things he did,
she would have at least seen something good in me. Maybe if I didn’t complain when my brother beat
the crap out of me, she would not have considered me to be a huge burden like
she did. Maybe if I didn’t scream when I
was taken by others who watched me when mom worked, she wouldn’t have
considered me to be annoying. I know
these things are crazy to think about, but I think about them all the
time. I spent much of my childhood,
trying to figure out how I could make her at least like me, and the best I had
ever gotten was her trying to pretend to like me.
Well this is not helping me like I thought it would. I know that I should just let this shit go,
after all I am over forty years old. I
have been out of her house since I was nineteen years old. I wish I knew why I can’t let this shit go. What is really crazy is the fact that when I
think I have let it all go, it comes back stronger and with mom dying, it is
even stronger than it ever was and I don’t know how to shake it. I am sorry for
making yet another blog of me bitching, but honestly I was writing this for me
to try and understand where my head is at.
The picture above is of my mother as of last week. I wonder how I can let such a weak and frail
woman get inside my head. When I look at
the picture I feel sadness at the loss that I will soon face. The loss of something that I never had but
for years had hoped I would. Now I know
it will never be and I just wish that someone would wrap their arms around me
and let me know I am ok and let me sit there until maybe my tears would
flow. That person would have to sit for
a very long time, both waiting for the tears to start and then waiting for them
to stop. It has been years since I have
cried and I know it would take a long time to get them to begin again. With Denny going through the things he is
right now, it is hard for me to ask him to be that person, and also, I would
want the person to just know to do something like that for me, because they
want to and understand and not because it is something that is asked of
them.
Well that is all I am going write right now. I am giving myself a headache and I can feel
myself shaking and need to be able to find a way to get some sleep tonight. I think I am going to get some pharmaceutical help
tonight. That seems to be the course that
has been working for a while now. TTFN
