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.