Brain Barf

May contain traces of nuts.

Friday, July 30, 2004

I'm doing a Jo Jamble, buckle up.

The dream. You have to mourn the loss of the dream, and the loss of what could have been. I'ts a fact and a real physical/mental/painful loss. That's one of the reasons that families have such a hard time with a loved one "coming out of the closet", is because they have to dispose of the dream and of their expectancies of that persons life.
The relationship between me and my "mother" has been very ill for most of my life, but now it is finally dead, and with any terminal illness, does one wish for more suffering or the finality and peace of death? Hard choice. Painful in either case. The silence and peace of death is that the suffering is over. SO over. The fire is out. I've pulled the plug and terminated the relationship.
I had my hair done this week and one of the other ummmm what the funk do ya call them, Beauticians? Was doing her Mothers hair, and they talked and they related and they hugged and they even LIKED each other?!? It just made me realize, that is not something that I ever had or will ever have. Especially after these last two weeks and the "EVICTION" from my guest house and my life. So I let go of the dream. I'm mourning the loss of the dream. It was sparked by some wise advice from a Nursey friend of mine. The "mother" can't love me any less.

My anxieties have been largely under control for the last year. It is known that a traumatic event can bring on Anxiety attacks or panic disorders to even those who have never had them before. My "mother" and her eviction from my guest house was my trigger this lucky can one gal be? That is why I have been in this needy, self evaluating, self depreciating, searching, self loathing, depressed valley for the last two weeks. Not pretty for those of you who've chosen to take the ride with me. (You can have a rain check) What is that great orange orb in the sky? ~blink~ ;o)
The last time I had a trigger was last year, was the first time that I recognized or was honest with myself about what was going on with my gray matter.
It was briefly mentioned in a previous post of mine. Cancer. Fluorescent green fluids. Fleshy sweet smells. I was SO attatched to that woman. If I had met her in any other walk of life we would have been fast, permanent friends. Her life and death made me question and re-evaluate my entire foundation, belief system and life in general. She would ask me, while I was doing her dressing changes, "when will these (meaning her cancerous lesions) get better?" and because of my love for her and because nobody else would be honest with her, I would have to tell her, "Joyce, the lesions, the open sores covering 70% of your body, are not going to get better" and she would say "OK". She knew. She just wanted confirmation. Her Doctor was also her best friend, and couldn't give her honest answers, so I did....I still resent it a little, and I didn't want to.....more than any other point in my life I wanted to tell sweet little lies. Towards the end, when her pain was so out of control, that every narcotic known to man wasn't sufficient, the only comfort that she could get was in my Doggy Moses. I would bring him to work with me. He sensed "something" and would sleep on her feet for hours and it calmed her and gave her a little relief. To this day my sweet Delta Dog Moses -a year later- won't go back to work with me. I have to take my wiener Petunia.
Her son was/is a Minister of a local Four square church here, and he would come to me with his pain and questions. He would bypass the charge nurse.....and come to me? Why? When someone is dying in general, but in this case dying of Cancer, they can crash very quickly and then be perfectly fine the next day. One night when she really crashed, close to the end, we thought she was dying, her Doctor friend called her fam, and said get here, it's time. The Doc couldn't even come...she (the doc) couldn't take it. But her son came, and wanted...asked....needed me to share a portion of his pain........he didn't dare knock on her door. He didn't dare shake her to see if she was really just sleeping.
She eventually had to transfer out of Assisted living to go to acute care. We held it off far longer than the SOP required. She didn't want to go. She knew why she was going. She knew she wouldn't be back. She knew she was going there to die.
I made a choice. It hurt. It still hurts. I decided not to go see her. I didn't want to see anymore, smell any more, feel anymore. It was a selfish decision, but for my own mental health, and in the state she was in, she never knew of my absence.
I went to her funeral. In 3 years I've never gone to another residents funeral. It's taught in nursing school that you shouldn't go. Shouldn't get that attatched. I went.
I went back to her sons, the Ministers, church twice. I wondered where he found his peace? What did he know that I didn't? I found that each person needs to come to terms with their own existence. Their own fairy tale.
And I'm working on it.


  • At Saturday, July 31, 2004 7:37:00 AM, Blogger Jo said…

    I am speechless. Well, okay,not really. I should say I am having a hard time assessing all my emotions right now and unable to put them in words.

    It's amazing at f*ing 46 yo one can sit here and sob for the love her mother seemed to never have for her. Maybe she "loved" me in her own sick way. Who knows. I see moms and daughters, like you, who have normal healthy relationships. They giggle and laugh and have fun. It amuses me. I stare, I watch and I try to fantasize what it might be like.

    I have this with my DDs. My oldest married DD is one of my best friends. Thank God or who/whatever I was able to break the cycle and she now can enjoy the unconditional love of a mother.

    You made an interesting comment and it is so true in my life, too. That in any other circumstance you and your mother would have been fast permanent friends. Ditto here. Craziness. And usually people who know her who have not fallen victim to her manipulations refuse to believe what she is capable of with her own children.

    Have you ever read a book called Toxic Parents? It helped me through some dark times - it's an honest book and sometimes that honesty is very painful to swallow. It saved my life.

    I am sorry for the loss of your friend/"mother". You were an asset to her life. The story was very touching. How wonderful that you got to experience that as painful as it might have been. And how wonderful for her to have you and your honesty.

    Thanks for sharing. I need to go blow my nose now. Hugs

  • At Saturday, July 31, 2004 8:10:00 AM, Blogger Jo said…

    Hey my comment didn't post. I will give it time and repost if it doesn't appear soon. :)

  • At Saturday, July 31, 2004 6:33:00 PM, Blogger Dave said…

    I'm proud of you, Keri.

    It had to have been extremely difficult to do that to your mother, but based on some of the things you've said in the past, it was likely the best thing too. I think the scariest thing about this move is the headlong dive into a life of possible sanity (I say that confident in my supposition that the two of us are very much alike - would a sane person type the stuff I type? And by the way, I'm charmed by your insanity...) Breaking away from your parents (psychologically) is always the first step toward ultimate adulthood.

    It also sounds like you have learned to take advantage of surrogate parental figures in your life. I remember what a great discovery it was to realize that not everyone in the world is as screwed up as my own folks were! I can't count the number of role models I've taken little bits from in an effort to get properly "re-parented." It sounds like this lady you took care of was that kind of person for you too.

    I really enjoyed this post.


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