Mothers Day Reflections

Sunday was my 14th motherless Mothers Day. It still hurts, but the pain isn't a stabby pain anymore. It's more of an ache, a longing that has become chronic. I don't cry much about it anymore unless something brings it on and makes me want to talk to my Mother and I realize that it is impossible and I have to lay in bed, shut my eyes and have an imaginary conversation with her or pray that she comes to me while I'm sleeping and we have one of our interdimentional visits (yes, I'm nuts, I do get visits from her occasionally, judge if you will) . Lately I have been thinking a lot about my life, what it was, what it has become and trying to make some sense of it. Maybe I'm doing this more because I'm in my 40's, I don't really know. Like most people at this age, I've had some losses and I've managed to move forward. The thing with me is though, I have no family so when something changes it shakes me up more than I care to admit.

My Dad died when I was 5, my mom died when I was 30. I have no siblings, my aunts and uncles are pretty much all deceased as well. I have no husband or kids. It's a bit scary being like this at times. I have friends who I can count on but it's not the same. My mother dying was always my worst fear. I used to cry just thinking of it before it actually happened. Then it did and it was far worse than I ever imagined. It happened on my shoulder in the car as I drove her to a Dr appt. She just slumped over on me and that was that. I raced her to the ER, they revived her and she then died again later that night. I will never forget that moment. I remember a nurse saying to me "pray for what's best for her, not for what's best for you." The Dr told me he was sorry. I was completely numb. I was shaking. My arms and legs felt like jello. I felt like I was melting into a pool, I wanted to melt into a pool. I wanted to be gone. I remember my best friend walking down that long hallway with me and thinking that I was leaving her there and I was never going to see her again. Even now, remembering it, it doesn't seem real. I went home and I got into her bed and I remember screaming and screaming and screaming. I have never ever screamed like that before that day and I have never screamed like that since. I don't think I ever will again. It changed me forever. Something in me died that day too but at the same time, something undefinable was being born .

At that moment, I chose to live. I didn't realize it was a choice at the time but now I see that it was and the funny part is, everything that happened to me up to that point in my life, everything that never made sense while it was happening gave me the skill to deal with that horrible situation. I was raised by a wonderful woman. She taught me more than I could ever begin to tell you about. She also struggled with an addiction to alcohol. I almost feel like I am betraying her by saying it here. Isn't that funny? That all these years later, and you have no idea who I am or who she is and still the shame of that is so deep and the stigma is so ingrained that I feel like I am giving up a dirty secret that I should be keeping still. I mean it's not like I'm going MacKenzie Phillips here and telling you some creepy details about something that is besmirching my Mom's memory. It's not like you know her, or me but still, I feel blabby telling. What the fuck is my point in telling anyway? I don't know, maybe verbal masturbation, a need to just put it down somewhere and get it out? What makes me think you care or want to read such a sullen entry? Maybe you don't. Maybe this will turn you off and you'll never come back again. That's a risk I'm taking in being authentic at the moment I guess. And who's reading this anyway really?

I remember after my father died, my Mom really lost her shit. She was devastated and so lost. She had lost both her parents by the time she was 16, her sister, her child (my sister) and now her husband. I think it was all just too much for her to process and I didn't blame her. She drank to the point of me knowing there was something wrong. I was 5. I knew something was up. By the time I was 7, I was hiding her car keys. How the hell did I know to do that? I have no idea but I did. I remember once, my Aunt came to see my mom and my mom was passed out in her bedroom. She was attempting to do laundry and there was a basket near her filled with the laundry. As my aunt came up the stairs I was freaking out. I had seen my Aunt kick my mother in the past when she was drunk. I grabbed that laundry and I dumped it all over my mom as she slept and I lied and told my Aunt that my Mother was at the store! I am still amazed that I did that.I was 8. My Aunt believed me and never knew. After she left, I went and sat out on the back steps of the house and cried. I don't even remember being sad. I just remember feeling helpless and frustrated and wondering what I did wrong. I seriously wonder how I am not more fucked up than I am. How I did not turn to drugs, alcohol etc. I never ever did. I was a virgin till I was 21. I've never done an illegal drug in my life. I took 2 puffs of weed once and was grossed out by it. I have drank but I honestly do not like alcohol except for champagne and I never drink to get drunk. I have never done any other drugs except for prescribed narcotics for pain when I've been ill.

So where am I going with this, let me think.......oh yeah. My mom was in and out of rehab many times. I spent a lot of my childhood at AA meetings. At that time, it was the 70's there were other kids there and there was always someone who would watch us while our parents were attending the meetings. At times we were in those smoked filled rooms and I remember hearing some crazy assed stories of other peoples journeys and all the shit they had endured and put their loved ones through. As you can imagine, this really affected me deeply. For some reason unknown to me, I had a very pronounced ability to feel the pain of others. I never thought badly of those people, I only felt compassion for them and prayed that they could find a way to get better. I remember always feeling so different and out of place with other kids. I felt like an impostor, like I really wasn't a kid. Like I was an adult trapped in a kids body. I've always felt old ever since I can remember which is strange since I have such a crazy sense of humor and I always see the absurdity and the lighter side of things. Maybe that's not so crazy after all, maybe that was my coping mechanism, my humor. Oh that and food. Yep, I did inherit the addictive gene and cheese doodles were my drug of choice.

I was pretty fat for most of my childhood. I loved food, eating it, cooking it, you name it. I even became a pastry chef at one point. After my mom died I finally began to deal with all my experiences and I was able to release the weight. 89 lbs of it. And I've pretty much stayed healthy and relatively slim since. I'll never be skinny but I'm not plus sized anymore and I get why I was eating and I do not do it in a destructive way anymore. Her death seemed to free me up to start taking care of me and admit a lot of things that I never wanted to admit. It's funny how when you deal with your feelings, you really see your patterns and why you do the things you do.

So on Mothers day, I was thinking. Thinking about all of it. And I felt sort of shocked that all these years later I can honestly say that I'm grateful for all that stuff. I really can't look at it and feel sorry for myself. I wouldn't change my beautiful mom for a sober one, I would not change her death even though I miss her daily and still cry and ache for her. She had to go to free me to grow out of my cocoon and be the butterfly I have become. I beat myself up a lot, I'm a slob, this is a thing about myself that I consistently wish I could change. I've tried, I do make efforts but I recently thought to myself well fuck, if that is the absolutely worst thing you can say about yourself what the hell is wrong with you? That's nothing! no one is perfect, if you're unorganized and sloppy, WHATEVER. There is plenty of fabulousness about you that offsets your slobbery (do you like my new word?). Maybe I'm getting old, maybe it's middle age but I think I finally *drum roll*, I finally like myself. Fat thighs, frizzy hair, sloppiness all of it. I mean I even posted a pic here of myself in a BATHING SUIT last year. (See: "bathing beauty" entry). That took a lot of moxie, it's got to mean something.

I have no idea why I exploded like this here. I'm off from work this week and up late being introspective and here I am. I have a goofy entry planned for tomorrow though so fear not, my light hearted self will return in a few!




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"She's Come Undone", by Wally Lamb ;)



That's all for now! :)