lesbianspaghetti

My Big Fat Lesbian Life – My Mother.

In Uncategorized on February 3, 2012 at 8:45 pm

I started writing this a few days ago, when I heard that my Mom is in the hospital. She has blood clots in her lungs, and some suspicious “spots” so they conducted a biopsy a few days ago. No word has come in yet as to what the spots are, but I have been calling the hospital almost everyday to check in on her status with her nurses.

My Mom and I haven’t spoken in sometime. My life has always been painted with the colors of her addictions. It’s really hard to be a parent when you are either drunk all of the time, or jacked up on pain killers.

But truth be told, I could be a sainted woman who had given her whole life to the poor, living in a refugee camp somewhere in a third world country, and my Mom would still find enough fault to justify in her world why I am still the worst person she had ever met. She does that with my siblings as well.

I got a call from my niece last night, and she told me that my Mom had become a bit aggravated and kept calling her by my name. This seemed out of character for even her madness, so I explored with the thought of calling my Mom directly. Not knowing what she is facing, I thought maybe this was her way of saying she needed to talk to me, to make peace. So I picked up the phone, called her and when I heard her in the background, I hung up. I needed to process why it was I needed to call. I wanted to make sure it wasn’t for some unresolved issue I might have with her myself, because I know if I were to go with that intent she would not be able to give me what I need. She never has been able to. I had to decide if I was going to approach this as the daughter whose life she handled with less care than a hot potato, or as a woman who is her own.

After processing what it was I was thinking and feeling, and exploring the idea that maybe I should just let it be, I realized my need to talk to her had nothing to do with me at all. I had long ago made my own closure and healing as a daughter. I was no longer that little girl who was so fragile and longed for the acceptance and love of my Mom. I am no longer that little girl who stood and cried for my Mom when I watched her drive away (not really ready to talk about that day yet), though her actions would create a life of protection of my own heart, because the idea of being vulnerable and open comes with the possibility that I could be left standing alone with a vulnerable heart.

Once I processed that I could approach my Mom as a woman, not her daughter, I decided that I would in fact contact her. No matter how reckless my Mom was with my life, as another human being I couldn’t walk away from the idea that someone needed to make resolution if facing death.

So.. I called. Had I been in any other place in my heart, than I am now then that phone call would have left me shredded on the ground. However, because I long closed the door the daughter in me, I was able to call as a woman who has since made peace with my own life.

I started out the conversation with asking her about her hospital stay and whether she has any results back yet. Of course I knew she didn’t, but I was still trying to figure out how to approach her with the topic I knew would eventually come up. We chatted a little about her stay and tests. Then I said “Mom, I don’t know what you are facing, but I wanted to open up the possibility of peace between us if you need it.” Her response was that she did want it, but then broke out into a tirade of how she didn’t understand why I haven’t been there when she needed it, because she had always given me things. She was referring to some money she had asked me for sometime back, one of the only calls she made to me in the longest time. I had forgotten that call about the money, in part because our contact has always been so sparse that I just blocked it out. So I explained to her that I didn’t deny her the money, that I had needed some time to see if I could. I also carefully explained to her that I was in a place when she had called me for the money, because the only time I had spoken to her before that, she told me I was going to hell . I wasn’t trying to start an argument, I was just trying to explain where I was at the time when she called. Her calling for the money really surprised me, because up until that time the only other time we had spoken was when she made the comment.

Of course, she denied ever saying such a thing, and proceeded to tell me that I had made it up and believed what I wanted about her. She also went on to tell me that she wasn’t going to accept responsibility for something she didn’t ever say to me. I gently responded by telling her that I remembered because it was something that hurt when she said it, but that I didn’t want to argue. It was about finding peace and opening communication for resolve, if that was what she needed. She was pretty bent on the hell, and repeated that she never said it and that I was hurting her by saying such things. She then wanted to hang up, so did.

I stood still for a moment to make sure that I was still in the same good place I was before I picked up the phone, and I was. I also realized that I had done what I needed to do to give another person the opportunity to feel as though they have made resolution so that they may face whatever is coming at them. I have peace in that. Will she ever need to? Most likely not. I accept that about her. She is just not in the place where growth as a woman is going to happen. She’s had years to work on it, but has instead chosen to face pills instead of her own demons. That belongs to her, not the little girl who once longed to be loved as a daughter. It doesn’t belong to the woman I have become either, because I am separate of the life she provided me. I am a woman of the life I have created for myself.

I promptly called my daughter and told her that should she ever feel afraid to come with me for anything, that I was here. without judgement, accepting of who she is and would support her through her life. She said she knew that, but I wanted her to know again. I don’t want to miss the opportunity to let those know I care about, that I do care. I then called my younger brother and we had a good talk about our lives, where we are now and how we want to reconnect as a family with the families we have created for ourselves, not the lives that our mother had created for us. I just recently reconnected with my younger brother, so it was a very filling conversation. I miss my siblings, but sadly our lives have had to play out separetly until we could all create our own space void of the things our Mom used to full our worlds with. But I am holding to the possibility now that we are in that place, and I look forward to getting to know him as the young man he is.

The fact remains that my Mom was a reckless woman with the 6 lives she brought into this world, but perhaps the saddest is that it’s a direct result of her mishandling her own. If nothing else, I refuse to handle my heart, or the hearts of those that trust me, with a reckless disregard.

That’s the woman I am.

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