My Mother This past week, I received news that my mother is in a home somewhere around Sacramento. When I called the facility and spoke to a staff member, I learned that the man who had physically and mentally abused her for years, had finally given up on her, and that she is alone, suffering from a stroke, and according to the nurse her only words, her only mantra daily are “help me, help me, help me”. When my older sister (I have several older siblings by my parents previous marriages) contacted me, we talked for several nights about how we felt and how this would affect not only us, but our other siblings…this wasn’t easy, our entire family has been torn apart, promises of siblings who left as quickly as they came, barely time for introductions, then off to their own worlds of the “un-mothered”. My older sisters and my own emotions changing daily on whether or not it is even “worth” the trip, whether she would even recognize us, could we handle what she would look like? How bad off was she? I made the call. What I heard loud and clear is that not only did she recognized me, but her outcry when I asked her if she would like her daughters to come see her, brought me to tears, and then the mantra began. “Ok mamma, hang on, we’ll be there soon”. For years none of us knew where she was, what had happened to her since her husband had stolen her against hers and my wishes that she remain in the good home she was being cared for in. I had arranged for her books by tape, music she loved, a ritual of daily calls, and loving conversations. Something I couldn’t do when she was under his rule at home for the past 30 years…then without notice, gone. That was almost 10 years ago. When I reflect on the decades of pain, abandonment, abuse, and my own mothers “un-mothered” spirit, I can see so clearly what she relied on to survive; the devastating manipulations on her sweet spirit and incredible mind, finally taking their toll on her. When I hear condemnation, I can’t imagine condemning her. I see her pain, and I can see where she was first abandoned…I see how she held on, through all the abuse, all the bad men that took advantage of her, hurt her and hurt her children. And so it makes perfect sense that my mother also suffers from an un-treated bi-polar personality; the utter confusion I have witnessed her experience many times, the manic phases, the depressed fits of rage, her every effort when sane, un-done by what she did later. Some of you knew my mother many, many years ago, back before I was born. You remembered what I described above because you saw her children go through “it” with her and in spite of her. The custody battles, the kidnappings (if there is such a thing when a mother takes back her children), her choices lacking discretion, matched equally to her incredible talents during her saner moments. Her medical and nutritional knowledge, her absolute love of gardening and cooking good food, her ability for total recall of her favorite poems, favorite biblical quotes, her favorite authors, her well-studied bible(s), and her beautiful voice. She taught herself to play the organ and piano, and anything she gained in knowledge, by her own desire to learn, to understand, and to someday be free. My mother worked for years in nursing homes and would raise the very structures of the nursing facilities she found abusing and neglecting their patients. I remember her outrage when she came home crying out how bad the bed sores were on a patient, or how un-clean the facility, her inability to accept these standards…SHE was going to DO something about it. And then, the other side would become more and more apparent. Her inability to stay focused, her OCD traits pronounced, and her obsessions in her paranoid states of mind. And then, she would attempt to take her life. No, I don’t condemn her. I condemn the men who punished her, and took their rage out on her. I condemn the system that she fell into, the endless battles without a promise; the shame of the un-helped, the un-loved, the forgotten, and the blamed. She is my mother, and I know her. I know all of her, and I love her. So, I would like to ask you if you have a parent that you have blamed. I can tell you friend, brother or sister, it is much easier to understand and forgive…I encourage you to do whatever it takes to truly understand them, your mother, your father, your brother, your sister. When you do, you will discover something far greater, liberating, and healing. In the learning to love them, and in the loving of them, loving yourself and all your beautiful pluses and minuses, that make you, You!
Posted on: Sat, 02 Nov 2013 14:25:13 +0000
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