Less impact

I've heard through the enabler grapevine that my mother is up to her usual shenanigans. This is not to say that I had any doubt about this, but having confirmation always makes it more real, puts it in context, and I can picture her in her current state a little more clearly.

Picturing her in this state is not a joyful task. I hear she has gone back to a friend in Boston 10 years forgotten who, in quite a state of alarm and panic, called my little sister repeatedly (even at work) to tell her of the bad shape my mother is in. Yes, we know old friend, unfortunately sounding the alarm is unnecessary and redundant.

If you listen closely, you can hear the alarms going off in her wake from Atlanta to Boston over the last 8 months, and, sadly, to no avail. I am tired of hearing them, for they seem to serve no purpose other than distracting me from my life and my sister from hers.

In the conversation with an old friend I hear the shattering of yet another image of my mother as a healthy, functioning woman and mother.

A confused mass of feelings come over me: sadness to reveal this truth, anger with having to mop up behind her, relief that the truth is out and a bizarre appreciation/disgust for the sympathetic feelings people then bestow upon me for having to deal with it.

I am thinking of creating a document that I can send to enablers as they begin to see the frayed edges and missing liquor...

Dear ________,

I know you have been helping/housing/caring for/worried about my mother. I want you to know that sadly this has been going on for many years with this latest cycle starting in earnest Spring of 2010. She has repeatedly and consistently refused treatment for her mental illness and substance abuse issues and is burning through all old friends and acquaintances, often leaving heartache and disaster in her wake. For her sake as well as yours, I advise you to direct her to the hospital and to not help her any further as that is only serving to enable her unhealthiness.

Sincerely,

Her eldest daughter

Writing such a letter, sending such a letter, feels like a kind thing to do. But it also feels like a mean thing to do. It feels like too much involvement and too little.

The good news for me however is that I am beginning to feel at peace in the middle of this paradox. And maybe that is the key to my well being as I make my way through this unwanted journey.