on control

All my life I've compensated for lack of external order by seizing control where I can. Therefore you can tell that there are forces in my life that are particularly wacky if my house really shines. It is almost a joke coping mechanism...I clean. I work. These are things that I do to seize control. I realize they are useful (and believe me I'm glad they are), but they are still coping mechanisms and therefore not always 100% healthy. But cleaning and working are within my control and somehow make me feel like all is not lost. I do make a difference. Look at how that countertop shines! Look at that stack of work I got through!

Sitting still and being is hard for me. I do. Constantly it seems. Particularly when I am faced with forces that appear to mock my seemingly spare control in this life. Sometimes this works well as a parent. I plan, I arrange, I get things done. But I have to consciously make myself sit down and just be as a parent when I am in one of these zones.

Yesterday I heard that my mother's perhaps most unhealthy enabler is calling my sister, again. She is saying "We've got to do something! Your mother is running out of money. Soon she will be a streetwalker! What can we do?!?" This is the woman who in the past stuck her nose where it didn't belong and called and yelled at my sister to be nicer to our mother. This, when my sister was 18 and incredibly wounded herself and had just barely escaped from the craziness. This woman has routinely shown poor judgment. I'll leave it at that.

At any rate, if you had asked me yesterday morning, "what is the status update with your mom?" I probably would have said she is going to be running out of money soon or already has. She is either in an Atlanta area hotel, hospital or crashing with some unsavory man. Really, not so different from this woman's information.

As I have not seen my mother and have only talked to my mother on the phone once since August 2010 (and that was accidentally...I really should get caller id at home) and have only corresponded via email about 3 times since Christmas, I really do not know what is going on. I do better not knowing. I am a better mother not knowing. I am a better me not knowing.

Hearing this, albeit not reliable, confirmation of my suspicion about my mother's status managed to derail my day and my husband's. We didn't realize it until late at night after other things tapped us...other things that probably would not have tapped us in isolation.

We have moved our children into the same room (the 1.5 year old in with the 5.5 year old). Last night was the 3rd night. The first two nights were remarkably good. Books, cuddles, kisses and goodnight. Asleep in no time. Both seemed peacefully delighted to be in the same room. We knew it wouldn't be like this every night. We anticipated poor nights from the get go. We had rolled up our sleeves ready for the 3 week adjustment. And then were pleasantly surprised. So, we had a rough night. Two steps forward, one step back. We were due.

My daughter was being a nut. Noisy and climbing around...yelling and banging. My son was trying to fall asleep but, for obvious reasons, could not. My husband was unsure how long we should let it ride and then after that what we should or could do if anything. My daughter didn't seem to be slowing after 20 and then 30 minutes. I tried too. My daughter's late night naughtiness was making me quake with frustration. I felt cornered. I had thrown my back out only 3 days prior making this bedroom situation possible and now this is what I get. I lost it. I went to Peter saying "I don't know what to do. I am fine with her being a goofball on her own but what do we do about him? I don't know how to stop this. I don't know how to control this! And my mother might be a homeless person soon for real!" And then the tears came and came. What my mother has to do with bedtime, I don't know. Except clearly it had been there, in my emotional space, eating up my reserves all day and it impacted my parenting. I wasn't cool. I wasn't patient. I was irritated and snappy with my children. Thank goodness my husband was there. He sent me away and handled the kids. Soon they were asleep.

If you look at them and their progress toward room-sharing, it was not a great night, but really, it wasn't that bad, and really, what I expect if you ask me in the light of day with a full tank of reserve mama energy. After all, I had rolled up my sleeves right?

Well, this is why it is better for me not to know about my mother. It is pernicious. It sneaks in the backway and later, only in the midst of some other headache or frustration does it come out. Damn it!

I am trying to disable the connectors in my brain that remind me of her. You know the movie, eternal sunshine on the spotless mind? Well, I have days when I dream of that...I wish I didn't see a homeless person muttering to himself angrily standing in the drizzle on the side of the road and think of my mother. I wish I didn't hear about an unknown woman attacked and killed in a hotel room and think of my mother.

Aside from what I have been doing I'm not sure what there is left. I'm pretty sure she thinks I don't care. The irony is if I knew it would save her I would do almost anything. If she knew I felt that way she would be continuing to tell me that I can save her...oh yes...and she needs saving...oh my...and here are her specifics on how to save her: have her move in with me and destroy my life and frighten my children. And it wouldn't work anyway.

So, there it is. I have no control here. She may end up dead. She may end up homeless and crazy and taken advantage of. She may spend the rest of her days in a deluded drugged cloud. She may never contact me again or she may show up at my door this afternoon.

It is hard to just calmly do my bedtime routine with my children when this is my emotional backdrop. So, I often think I need to eliminate it from the background. Others have told me to accept it and realize my helplessness. Embrace the helplessness. I just still don't know. I haven't yet made it to an Al-Anon meeting and think I will this week. The problem with this situation is that I don't want to dwell on it, but don't want to let it linger in this festering way either. So when it is out of mind, I do not rush to think of it. I allow myself the respite. But sometimes I think it is the respites that do me in. For then I hear some bit of news and it comes rushing back to me and that is no fun at all.

heartbreaking perspective

I will warn you that this post is off of my usual subject. I am full of conflicting emotions today as a result of news about a woman I never had the chance to meet. It is about this that I write today and this post is dedicated to her.

I've been following a friend of a friend's pregnancy for a couple of months. I've heard some details about a baby shower and that it was their first and how exciting that first baby can be. I heard that the mother was interested in using cloth diapers, so I provided (perhaps too much) information with my thoughts on the subject. I was enjoying hearing details about this joyous event and reflecting back on our own experience with our first. What a wild ride the first can be.

Then last week I heard from my friend that her friend was epileptic (like me) and had suffered a seizure while pregnant. She was near the due date. The baby was taken by emergency c-section and was fine. She was placed on life support. She stayed on life support until last night when she was taken off. She passed away early this morning.

No. No way. This was not the ending that was supposed to be. A miraculous recovery? A slow but steady improvement? Not this young mother gone. Not this young father solo with his newborn son to raise. Not this newborn child never knowing this woman who brought him into this world?

I am awash with conflicting feelings: grief, joy that the baby is healthy, relief that this father and son have family in town, near panic at the roll of the dice that pregnancy can be, especially when you have a condition such as epilepsy, relief and thankfulness and shock for my two pregnancies.

I knew I was taking risks when I was pregnant, but just like there are risks in all things, you know there is a remote chance of the "unthinkable" happening. I don't know this woman, but I would imagine she probably had a series of similar thoughts and conversations about epilepsy and pregnancy. It was definitely not something I took lightly, however when I considered my risks, I was 95% concerned with how it would affect my baby. I didn't even really consider myself. I had had seizures before, I would be fine. It was my baby. That was what I really was concerned about.

Three days after my son was born I had a series of seizures that almost sent me into status epilepticus. I was hospitalized and out of it for days. My husband thought I might have permanent brain damage as I couldn't remember anything. I had to be reminded that I had already had the baby. I remember seeing him across the hospital room in his snugride carseat. All eyes on me. I remember thinking, who cares about me? What about our baby? Take care of our baby. I was heartsick I hadn't been able to do it myself during those days I was incapacitated.

Becoming a mother was such a transference of concern and focus it was overwhelming. As I hear this heartbreaking story of my friend's friend, I hope and pray that she, wherever she is, is relieved to know that the focus can now be more fully on her son, on her baby who is healthy and perfect and loved and will shine brightly with his mother's love shining on him from afar.

Embrace the helplessness

My therapist told me that I should go to Al-Anon meetings. I think she is right. She told me that they would likely be telling me that I should embrace the helplessness of the situation. Anyone who knows me knows that sounds about as opposite as you can get from my general way of being.

So, embracing the helplessness. I keep trying to make it an active thing. Like I need to get groceries, pick up my son from school and embrace the helplessness. Check. Check. Check. But, no, not so fast, this one does not fit. This one seeps. This one sinks in. This one is different.

I come to new levels in my grief over my mother all the time. It is sometimes just because of my processing of the situation and other times it is in reaction to an event or interaction. I continue to be sadly amazed at how much grief I manage to have for her and how deep and far reaching it is.

I received a disturbed email from my mother 5 days ago. It went something like this:

_________

subject: help me please

in pqim

bleeding

-19we

scaredlonelyy092

blackeye074

if love me come this onc 6[1

_______

Okay. No, wait. What?! How is anyone supposed to respond to this? It is barely legible (though the key words somehow, miraculously are not misspelled to the point of incomprehension).

I was more of the opinion that we should just call 911. My husband decided that he wanted to go to her hotel and check on her/confront her. We got home and he set out.

He found her at her hotel, blackeye, bruised ribs, blood in her hair, a complete mess. She complained that her side hurt and my husband took her to the ER. They did x-rays for her ribs. She claimed she must have fallen. Most in our circle think she was beaten up again. When the nurse asked her who the man was who was with her she said she met him in the bar. (My husband was mortified. Thankfully the nurse understood that they indeed had not just met in the bar.)

The nurse finally told my husband that they were probably going to discharge her soon unless she consented to psychiatric evaluation. As she was sobering up by then, when confronted with this, my mother put on her best psychobabble and said "I really prefer an outpatient setting." My husband handed her $20 for a cab and left.

He got a call the next day (as the hotel now has his number) that she was readmitted to the same hospital by them.

And this goes on and on and on and on. Again and again. Often in different states or in different hotels and in different hospitals and with different people around. Thereby not leaving a discernible trail. And for what? To elude what?

This morning I heard from my sister that mom showed up at her front door first thing this morning. She told my sister that if only I would let her back in my life she would be fine. I am the reason she is a disaster. My sister bravely pointed out that she had it backwards. I wasn't letting her in my life BECAUSE she is a disaster. Somehow, my sister managed to get my mother to leave without intervention.

For the rest of the day I was worried she would show up at my house or at my son's school. And then I remembered, I moved to a new place when my mother started drinking heavily this time around and she probably doesn't remember where it is. So, to my old house and it's lovely new occupants: I am sorry if she knocks on your door!

I am working on embracing the helplessness. There is nothing else in my life about which I think "this is terrible and only getting worse and there is nothing I can do to stop it." But this is that and it is hard to just let it be.

I worry that she will get herself killed by overdosing or bringing the wrong person back to her hotel or that she will kill someone else while driving. I asked my therapist if this would constitute her being a danger to herself and others. Sadly, it does not fit the bill. So, I leave this post with nothing upbeat to say. I leave this post with my heart just as it started and I am trying my best to embrace my helplessness in this situation. It is out of my hands and I believe it needs to be out of my head too.