What I want

What do I want? Sometimes it is hard for me to tell. When I find I am expending all of my energy on pushing away and holding at bay the crazy it is hard to find the quiet peace to hear what I actually want. After all, framing my life around what I want is very different from framing my life around avoiding what I do not want.

The first step has been avoiding what I do not want. It has been so very important. I could not have jumped over this step if I tried, even conceptually. However, now I do feel it is time to move on.

This is relevant for my relationship with my mother but also for other relationships and pretty much every other area of my life. But first let me put these thoughts of today regarding my mother in context.

My mother is back in Atlanta as of about 5 days ago as best as I can gather. Yesterday, and one to two days after telling her via email that I am not going to be hanging out any time soon, she is in the hospital, again. I heard this from my sister who received a call from a hospital social worker. Heart pain or some such thing.

**Pause here for the feeling to wash over me that my mother is in a local hospital with heart pain and I am not only not going, I am not calling and I am actually only writing about it to best explain where I find myself this morning. Yucky feeling.**

Okay, now. I started writing this in January of this year to get out the toxic, festering and isolating bits of this unwanted part of my life. My thinking had become compulsive and unhealthy.

Last Fall I heard from my mother sporadically. In November I heard from her a few days before Thanksgiving. She contacted me to see if she could come for Thanksgiving. No. No word from her until two days before Christmas when she asked, from a hotel in Virginia or Maryland, if she got a job, a therapist and an apartment by Christmas (in 2 days) if she could come over for Christmas. No (and really? Really?!). I found myself thinking about her over the holidays frequently. "Is she dead?" went through my head about a dozen times a day. Given her frequent overdoses and driving while intoxicated and other reckless behavior it is simply a matter of time. Not to mention that at some point she might really, actually, have a real physical illness. She has already given herself a bleeding ulcer from her abuse.

I went to my therapist at a loss. I felt like I was chained one way or the other to her fate. I felt the only way I could actually be free of it was if she actually were to die. And given her slightly absurd ability to survive really awful situations, I felt like that would be a really long time coming. My therapist told me I do not have to wait until she dies for me to get what I want.

This was a revelation. A friend's very sweet message lately reminded me of this. In the midst of this current shitstorm happening in my mother's life, I am actually not involved. I am aware of it, peripherally, and plan to make myself less aware of its evolution.

I know I do not want to be involved in her self-created chaos and despair. Got it. But what do I want when it comes to my mother?

My feelings regarding having a "mother" have become distinctly separate from my actual mother. When I am sick (which I feel like I have been now for weeks) and I have a sick and needy toddler and my son is having anxiety or defiance issues I so wish I had a mother to talk to, a mother to come in and say "here honey, you go rest. I'll take care of this for now." But in my dreams, I never picture her. I think I picture some combination of my late grandmothers. And I do wish I had a little more of that in my life some days.

But what do I want from her? The actual person who is my mother? To be left alone.

I almost wrote I want for her to not drag me down. But did not because I have been working on taking ownership of everything I can control. Being dragged down is largely one of those things. I am not getting involved. And I am getting a lot better at not getting involved in my head and heart too. With each passing crisis I get wind of I find it easier and easier to think, "mom's in the hospital. Alrighty, lets see what is for dinner."

This time I actually thought, well of course she is in the hospital. She, literally, has been in the hospital about once per week for months now. In different hospitals in different states. Why wouldn't she be in the hospital?

It was new when I heard she was in jail in the Fall. That was a new one. That *almost* ruined a date with Peter. But it didn't. We still went to dinner and a movie. So there.

So given that what I want is nothing from her and nothing to do with her, if I let myself I can find myself awash in sadness for her. I mean if I ever go there and think about her life it makes me unthinkably sad. So I don't. Or, I try not to. But when I do things in life I think to myself, somewhat reflexively, how will this be received? It is not a bad way to be with healthy human beings...in fact, it has served me well...but with her...dangerous.

My therapist told me what happens when you empathize with a crazy person: you go crazy. Don't do it. So, instead of thinking about what it is like for her I will tell you a bit about how it has been for me and what I hope for the future.

I want to focus my energies on the things in my life that grow, that heal, that give back. Things that inspire and things that enrich and add beauty to this world.

It has been amazing not having chaos and despair in my day to day life. It has been wonderful being less and less and less involved in the chaos to the point of not even knowing it is happening most of the time. I have felt safe. I have been blossoming. Finally, at 35, I am cultivating a safe space for me to thrive and bloom. And that has to be my priority. Regardless of how sad it is for my mother.

Why not? Let me tell you.

My mom is back in town and wants to hang. Or if not hang at least "just see my face," even "from across the street while I'm going into church." Guess who did not go to church this weekend, at least in part due to this Saturday threat...er...voicemail?

I am potentially revising my previous assessment of my mother. Old hypothesis: mom is either a complete a-hole or mentally ill. New hypothesis: mom is a complete a-hole, mom is mentally ill, mom has brain damage or all of the above.

She now claims that she remembers nothing from the last few months and can't for the life of her imagine why I'm so darned angry. Geez, aren't you prickly, dear daughter? So fussy and demanding and so full of stipulations. Her tone and her actual words tell me that she knows I have a few ridiculous hoops for her to jump through and she is willing to do some of that to appease me because, well, she knows I, for totally unknown reasons require all of this work. She will be such a big person to follow through (in a purely token b.s. way) because she just loves me so very much even though I am so very difficult. How kind and generous of her.

So now daughter dear, why are you still so bent out of shape? I think you might need help. Poor thing. You just can't let things go. Here is a totally pointless youtube clip. Lets talk about happy things. I'm going to distract you like you are a toddler trying to climb the stairs.

Hypothesis further amended: I think regardless of whether it is A) a-hole factor, B) mental illness, or C) brain damage, I think it is safe to say that she thinks I am a complete idiot.

After dismissively saying that she "only wishes she knew why..." I was so angry with her (read clearly daughter is unreasonable jerk), she tells me "Let's think about happy things instead." And thus follows bizarre youtube clips.

We had an agreement when I last saw her in late August 2010 in our family therapist's office. The agreement was that she would work with her own therapist, get help for her addiction, and once that was handled, her therapist would contact our family therapist and say it is safe for us to resume family therapy. Then, maybe, we could discuss further contact off of a therapist's couch. You see, we got to the point last summer where I would see her, and not only would it derail my, my kid's and my husband's day completely, but she would end up in the ER two days later with a overdose. Seeing her was just not an option. And talking to her on the phone was exceedingly unpleasant to me. Thus, we arrived at email contact only during this period.

She didn't remember our agreement, she said. I was happy to remind her of that. Having a firm boundary, especially one agreed upon by both of us at a therapist's office (a therapist of her choosing...key!), whether she claims to remember it or not, is paramount to my survival her re-emergence. As my husband says, it is stress inducing and depressing to see the dark cloud coming near and feel powerless to stop it. But maybe this time we can. Maybe this time whether she is near or far we can stop the seepage of crazy into our days. Time will tell.

Contact

After more than six weeks of silence, my mother contacted me and my little sister two days ago. Did she explain what has been happening in her life? No. Did she ask how we were? No. Inquire about grandkids and how their Christmas was? No. Did she send a youtube video of an ultra dramatic Queen song with no additional commentary? Why, yes she did.

I looked on my email, as I often do after the kids are in bed, on Monday night. It flashed up and I saw my mother's email address and before I realized it I clicked off my email as if I saw something terrifying.

I took a breath and opened my email again. I thought, it could be a virus. I looked at the email and it was to me and my sister. Likely not a virus then. I opened it. It was a video. I called Peter over and clicked on the video. He recognized the song immediately. He said, turn it off. I didn't. I watched it. Like standing at the beach while waves hit me. I thought to myself, bring it. I can handle your message. I can take it.

These are the lyrics:

Love of my life,
You hurt me,
You broken my heart,
Now you leave me

Love of my life can't you see,
Bring it back bring it back,
Don't take it away from me,
Because you don't know what it means to me

Love of my life don't leave me,
You've stolen my love you now desert me,

Love of my life can't you see,
Bring it back bring it back,
Don't take it away from me,
Because you don't know what it means to me

You will remember when this is blown over,
And everything's all by the way,
When I grow older,
I will be there at your side,
To remind how I still love you
I still love you
I still love you

Hurry back hurry back,
Don't take it away from me,
Because you don't know what it means to me

Love of my life,
Love of my life

The truth of my mother's unhealthy partner-like attachment to her daughters being shared here makes me feel both sick and free. Sick and free, awesome.

I remember when I bought it. When I was a willing participant. One time comes to mind very clearly. I was 9. My mother was single and we were living in Nashville. She would cry and I would hold her and tell her it was okay. I would clean the house when she was out or make her a present so that when she returned she would be happy and would stay with me.

She told me when I was 9 that she was lonely. I remember thinking, so clearly, "but mom, I don't know what you mean? You have me." I told her that. She let me comfort her. I really felt like her partner. At the time I thought that was how it was supposed to be.

Now as an adult, I know she was lonely. I know she needed other adults. I don't fault her for that. I don't fault her for feeling sad. I do fault her for letting me think I was all she needed when I was all she had and then letting me feel like I was in the way when something better came along.

Apparently she is lonely again. She wants "the love of her life" back. No thanks.

I feel for her and feel sad writing this, like I am betraying some trust. But I never agreed to silence. I don't want her to suffer. I don't want her to think I don't love her. But this shade of love? This is not what I want with my mother.

I was taught that protecting this warped relationship would protect my mother. Silence, loyalty, deference: if I continued in this vein, she would be okay. That is all. Just give my life over to her totally. Why can't I do that? Don't I love her? This is the mom voice in my head.

Not only do I see now that doing these things would not and did not protect my mother, but the cost is too high even if it did. The cost is me and my life and my children's mother. And that is unacceptable.

The other day, I was feeling sad. We were cooking dinner and all of a sudden my son said with an odd smile on his face, "I know Mama, why don't we turn off all electronics for tonight?" I asked him why he said that, and he said "I thought that would make you happy." He clearly didn't want to turn things off, but somehow got the idea that he had to fix my unhappiness and this was the way.

It snapped me out of my head for a moment. I got down in his face. I told him that I appreciated so much that he was wishing I was not feeling sad but that my sadness is not his fault or his responsibility. It happens sometimes. There are days like this.

The next generation

I am having one of those days. One of those days that your mother theoretically told you about. The kind of day that my mother never did tell me about. Ever flailing in the face of somberness, sadness, confusion and worry, my mother presented me with no model for how to face darkness with wisdom and calm.

Since I am not interested in railing against it or running from it, I am here, feeling it. I've been here, in this somber spot, a little more lately than usual. Either that or I am just more open to it now than I have been in the past. It is hard to say. I have been trying to experience it in the moment instead of trying to step outside of it and figure out why and where and how long it is. It is an exceedingly uncomfortable thing to do.

It feels like giving up control of my steering wheel...and my kids are on board...and that, more than anything, frightens me.

So, what is concerning me these days? Lots of things. Chief among them is my son. I am worried about my son. Or, rather, I am worried about whether I should be worried about my son. And the meta-ness and confusion builds from there.

My son is sometimes so up and happy and goofy and carefree. My son is sometimes so anxious and twitchy and ticking and worried. The latter concerns me. The fact that he vacillates concerns me (why the vacillation? is it due to his external world or internal world that the switch comes on? Is it something about us, his family, that brings it on?). I worry that my worry is the problem and that these swings are more or less normal in child development. For every good few months, I've read, and experienced, that there can be a rough few months. As kids master a phase, they retreat, regress and subconsciously grasp that they are maturing. It is both exciting and nerve-wracking for them.

So, am I just not seeing the forest for the trees here? Am I so in the midst of a rough patch full of ticks and anxieties that I have lost sight of the pattern that I should calmly be helping him through? If I make too much of it will it make it worse? If I make too little of it will it make it worse?

And so goes my neurotic mind.

And believe me, it is not lost on me that I am so much like my son. But I feel like that is part of the problem. Someone not as much like him, not so passionate and prone to over thinking might handle this better from him. Someone not like me, might give the calm wisdom that would best help him through this.

Where does one learn that? Where do folks learn it when they are trying to not replicate their own mothering experience? Where do folks learn it when they are also trying to not swing so completely in the other direction to compensate? Books? I've tried books. I can gain some insights from books, but, I can't help but ask, who wrote these books? How do I know they know what they are talking about? How do I know their adult daughter isn't out there horrified that their parenting book is being read?

How can I trust? How can I be open? How can I do this while helping my children navigate the difficult times they encounter? I know there is no manual, but when I have to scrap 90% of what I experienced, I am making it up as I go along. When my instinct is strong and sure and things are good I am golden. When I feel disconnected from my instinct and intuition or my child is going through a rough time I doubt how to course correct. I doubt and doubt and doubt...

I want for my children to grow up as emotionally privileged as the next healthy family. Can I really stop the damage from previous generations from leaking through? Is it even possible? Do I carry the torch of dysfunction as well, and, like my mother, not even know it?

These are my dark feelings today. Dark feelings that I am not running from. Dark feelings that I am not raging against. Dark feelings that are mine, today. And now that I have put them down here, they feel a little less scary.