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.