Disappearing mom

     While growing up, I had the perfect mother and childhood. Just kidding, what is that? I’m a mother as well and am definitely not perfect. I am striving for not traumatizing my kids. If they could end up talking about their childhoods in a fond and nostalgic way, I’d die happy. As I sit here I’m trying to recall people I have met who have loved their childhoods. Initially, I thought this brain exercise would retrieve mostly memories of people saying they had tough younger days. Surprisingly, my highly technical and extensive research showed at least a 50/50 split between those with decent (non-traumatizing) childhoods versus those with varying degrees of crap childhoods.

     I had what one might describe as a less than ideal upbringing. I won’t go into all the details of my heartache. That’s another story. I’m here to write about evolution. The evolution of my relationship with my mother. Our relationship now is unrecognizable from how it began. I suppose that is how all relationships are. They constantly morph.

     Starting out in life my mom just wasn’t there that much. I mean she may have been at times physically reachable but her attention was elsewhere. She just rarely had the time or patience for me. I unfortunately can’t think of any one time that we did anything special with just the two of us. Our dynamic was what therapists may call unhealthy by way of co-dependancy. She depended on my brother and me way too much. We were her go to people to discuss her life’s woes and to address her loneliness with our companionship. To step away from being that support for her was to lose her.

     When I was little, I was terrified of losing her, my one caring adult and parent in my life. Later around the age of 14, I began to pull away from her. This meant that she would then punish me by taking away what little closeness we had and would ignore me. She also began verbalizing that she did not want me around. I responded to the neglect by not coming home as much as possible. Naturally, this was also around the time that I began to seek attention from the opposite sex. Having no example of a loving or healthy relationship around ever, it is no surprise that I was not good at choosing guys to spend my time with. When I did come home, I looked different than the wholesome average 15 year old. She began looking at me in disgust. That shaming didn’t stop me from wearing what I wanted. It did leave me feeling worthless though. With an already damaged self esteem this solidified to me that I was an unworthy kid. Unworthy of affection, attention, or guidance.

     My mother curated my early life into a blur of instability, confusion, and neglect. The time that followed early life around the ages of 15-25, was a blur I created of instability, confusion, and drugs. After all of that, I naturally thought I should get married. I was pregnant at the age of 25 and had been engaged for 3 years, so why not? I found myself needing my mother again. I called her a lot during my pregnancy and visited. It was nice to be around her during this time. I knew what to do with a baby, I wasn’t nervous about that. There is just something comforting about having your mom around during the very vulnerable time of pregnancy and early motherhood.

     Being a mother is amazing. It was and is the biggest challenge of my life. I grew up in a household with many infants and toddlers around because my mom’s pay came from her home daycare. I took early childhood education in college and was prepared for the ages and stages to come. Nothing prepared me for the way your adult/parent mind easily reverts to reacting to stimuli from a young child in a way that is similar to how an abusive parent behaved toward you. Not being at all like my mother was the biggest challenge. I had not been prepared for this and had not read up on it. Till I figured out what to do and how to behave, I faked it. I became an actor to be the mother I wanted. Attentive, present, loving, and slow to anger. My perfect movie mother influence was Dianne Wiest’s role in Edward Scissorhands. I’ve had a decade and a half to figure out how to not be like my mother. From what I’ve read, you really just need to be the change you seek. Be strong enough and aware enough to not cause harm.

     Eventually it just becomes you. I still can catch myself sometimes before I would have a negative and automatic response to a stressor. Or, maybe I fail, but I keep trying. A long while ago, I stopped relying on my mom as much for support. I began to see the narcissism from her more clearly as my kids got older. I started to distance myself for mental health reasons. About a couple of years ago, it started to become apparent that she may have some type of dementia. Initially, the idea that she may need more attention and care really pissed me off. I couldn’t handle it. How the heck could I give to her when it cost me so much to emotionally give endlessly to my children from an already empty well. So, I didn’t. For about a year I ignored her need. That was all I could do.

     Then her health began to get worse. She accidentally dropped boiling milk on her bare foot. She had a second degree burn that she began to self treat. It absolutely got infected and very swollen. Realizing this, my brother and I began switching and taking turns bringing her to the hospital for treatment. It took a long time, but her foot is better. Then she began fainting...everywhere. It would not take much for her to overheat and faint. I took her to the emergency room after many useless doctors visits. That hospital found after many tests that she had a 99% occluded artery in her heart. She quickly had the largest stent put in and physically feels much better.

     During these last 12 months, I have spent more time than ever with my mom. It hasn’t been easy for me emotionally to give so much to her. But, I did have a heart change towards her. Enough of a change happened so that now instead of being pissed off at her whining and neediness, I have some compassion. I do love her after all. She is not the same woman she was 10 years ago. That both helps and crushes my heart when dealing with her mental regression. She used to just do so much more. Just even 8 years ago, she was still involved with her 2 grandkids. She was interested in their lives and would seek to spend time with them. They baked together, played games, spent time in nature, all sorts of great things.

      I thought that when she began pulling away that she was just being narcissistic and self involved. I had seen this before especially when she got a new boyfriend. I was wrong this time, It turns out her personality was fading. What is left is a very needy older lady. She needs help and I worry about her. She does not make good decisions and I worry about her. She needs regular check-ins physically or by phone to make sure she is taking her medication, not falling, not getting into trouble, and that someone is there to go to doctors appointments with her. Last week I took her to the primary care doctor for her annual. He was fairly thorough and gave us a lot to do as far as making new appointments. This left her confused, scared, and couldn’t remember most of what was discussed. I have to gently remind her of why things are happening and what will happen.

     I have been working towards us all moving together into a living situation where I could monitor her better. I will continue to work towards that as I am not there yet. It nauseates me to think of her in a crappy nursing facility. I am disgusted by any abuse of the helpless whether it’s children, animals, or the elderly. I know this stems from my traumatic childhood, but the takeaway is my compassion. I prayed for the ability to be around her two years ago and my compassion for her increased. I don’t know how much time left I have, she has, or anyone has on this earth. But, I’ll take what I have. I will stop looking at it as one more thing to do and see this time as a gift. My mom has a portion of her personality fully intact and it has always been my favorite and that is her humor. She still loves to have fun.

     I’ll keep looking for the moments of laughter as I continue my quest to be like the Edward Scissorhands mom. My kids and I have been fans of the Netflix show Stranger Things and my kids randomly mentioned that I am like lost boy Will’s mom played by Winona Ryder. If you don’t know what this means, I’ll tell you. My acting skills may not be the best, my kids see me as a fighter on their behalves, they know that I see them and want to be around them, and they know that I am unconventional especially when compared to the parents of their peers. Last but not least, that I love them immensely.

And this tree is happy.

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