I have a very complicated relationship with my Mother – she’s been verbally, physically and mentally abusive to me for as long as I can remember. I forgive her because it’s just been how is has been and I don’t really know a different relationship with her and I feel sorry for her, but I’ve learned since D-Day (of which she know’s nothing of) that I need boundaries. Lots and lots of boundaries.
2 weeks ago my Mother went to the hospital complaining of stomach pain and ended up having a colonoscopy that showed she has a bleeding ulcer most likely due to all of the medication she is on for her mental illness, stroke, blood thinner, daily aspirin etc. (she’s on A LOT of medication, some unnecessary). They refused to discharge her after the colonoscopy as per usual protocol as she is on blood thinners and can’t speak except for the words “fuck off” (she has aphasia from the stroke 9 years ago), and told her that she would be admitted for 3-4 days. I left work and went to the hospital and proceed to be kicked and verbally abused after I let the Nurse know that she is allergic to Morphine (it was the cause of her stroke and other incidences of her having to be intubated). My Mother LOVES numbing drugs, alcohol and I’m also certain she is a sex addict. She’ll take and do whatever she can to stop the demons.
After she kicked me I left the hospital and wished the Nurses well. I also decided that I’ve got way too much on my plate with my own pain, with my Dad’s wife dying, and with my Dad’s health (we will know the biospy results on Wednesday) – so I needed a break.
It was my Mother’s birthday on Friday, four day’s after mine. I didn’t talk to her on my Birthday but decided to call her for hers because no one else will (her brothers, sister, cousins etc have cut her off). It was good, I just called and wished her a great day.
That night as I lay in bed I thought back to my teenage years when the abuse was really bad and frequent for a number of reasons:
1) my Grandfather, who raped and abused her moved to our Province and around the corner from us; and
2) she started drinking because of point #1; and
3) I was a teenager and in a power struggle with her
When I thought back I remember my Mother hiding glasses of wine throughout the house; behind lamps and in cupboards, under the sink and behind books on the book shelf. I ALWAYS called her out, ALWAYS. I just couldn’t let her get away with this so I would tell my Dad or call her out in front of him. I know why I did it then (point #3), but what I realize now is that she was hiding the glasses so she could get some sort of peace. Peace from her thoughts, peace from me, peace from the demons. She just wanted peace. I know what she was doing was unhealthy, but I didn’t let her have it – and so I apologized to her for that.
My Mother’s life story breaks my heart – she was horribly abused and hitchhiked from one end of the second biggest country in the world to the other as a teenager, slept in ditches and was violated and almost killed countless times. To know and realize that I was a contributor in her struggle absolutely breaks my heart and makes me feel so ashamed.
My point to this story is that she was unhealthily attempting to numb the feelings and demons and tried different ways to feel something – anything – other than what she was feeling.
And what I realized is that Mr. Perfect was no different in his attempts to numb and search for peace from his demons. How he felt about himself and his life, I am sorry – not for what he did – but for how he felt.