Moms are self-sacrificing souls that often children (even as we become adult children) often disregard their mom's histories, hopes, dreams, visions of how their lives would be, etc.
I know my mom is one of these people and often I have been a horrible daughter. Our family has a history of mental illnesses/drug and alcohol dependencies, etc. (not just current) but in the past generations as well.
My mom has often lived in her own world as far back as I can remember. I'm sure she developed coping mechanisms from a childhood where she felt unloved by her mother, loved by a father who was away in the mountains preaching to others but not taking care of his family and ensuring that they had food and heat in a series of "shacks" for a back of better words. To her the deprivations was excruciating - lack of clothes, friends, ill-educated parents who could not advocate for her, and religion that almost broke her.
She was put out of the house when she was 16 to take care of herself and she didn't have the education or life skills to ensure continued living, much less success. She had an off /on again "boyfriend," and thus I came into the world when she was 21. She was back to work waitressing when I was a couple of weeks old.
My grandparents took over me and my mom had to be a support for both of us and somehow figure out how to create a life to go forward. She met my dad (you might say step dad) but I never knew until I was 12/13 years old). My dad was my dad, even after I knew of a biological father. Dad was abusive and mom was already pre-dispositioned to be taken advantage of... He had put a knife to her throat before they got married and thus the next 12/13 years of my life and hers, were filled with violence. There were happy times too, but lots of pain.
I lived in my own world in the woods with my walk-in rabbit hutch where hours were spent thinking of an alternative life. My mom got her GED, and then started other college courses. She got two AAS degrees and pushed me to ensure that I at least got my Bachelor's.
When we came back from North Carolina to Virginia, she was really out of it depressed, but somehow managed to work multiple jobs and keep us going. We lived with various relatives and then at least a sparse but happy place above an appliance repair shop in Fredericksburg, VA.
I write all of this to say, that I blamed my mom a lot for in my opinion, being in her own world, and I felt forced to grow up in many situations where I could have destroyed my life. Do you know that in a way, I was happy for my background with an abusive father, because his strict, oppressiveness was so ingrained in me, that I had a moral code sitting on my shoulder like the angel and devil decision pressing me to do the right thing.
I know that my mom has had a very bad life with very few opportunities except where she made them. I know that she has always wanted the best for me and that she has sacrificed much to be a mom to me.
I feel that I have often stabbed her in the heart. I do feel like Judas in many ways. I have betrayed my mom because I have felt hurt by her being in her own, defensive world.
There have been significant instances where I have felt lead to make decisions that hurt her more than any other person in the world could have.
If you've read my blog about the 30ish cats in our 2 bedroom townhouse in Fredericksburg, VA, so many years again when Ian was a baby/toddler, you'll know how I've accepted blame yet have raged against my mother. I felt that I have had to take care of her because she was always in a different bubble. I know now that I have many similar traits and that I have often let my inner rage and self-importance fuel my decisions. I guess that I was narcissistic for much of my life until my son was born. I think I really hurt my mom because we lived together until I abruptly moved out of the cat house with my 3 year old son. We had always lived together. I never separated from her - I was 34. I felt like I owed her and I needed to take care of her. I think I hurt her more by my "care" than if I had left her and her inner-workings to her own devices. I felt that I was helping. I am a mixture between my father's controlling force and my mom's inner workings. I've often felt rage but had no productive method for utilizing that depth of emotion.
So, first of all, I moved out of our townhouse and the cats destruction which I had tacitly supported. I left her to make the payments, etc. while I moved to Northern Virginia. I took out equity to help get everything ready to sell and I placed (or otherwise through humane means) got rid of the cats. I drove the knife in deeply and the cock crowed.
Secondly, she came to live with me several years later where I had bought a house in Chesterfield, VA, because the gas was so expensive for her to continue to commute to her job. I remember it was my birthday and I had no other help moving other that myself and mom. Eventually, my son and his autistic temper tantrums and mom's responses to him caused his doctor's to say he had to have a peaceful environment. So, I drove the knife in more deeply and moved her to an apartment, virtually overnight, and the cock crowed twice.
Thirdly, here I am. My mom is going through the early stages of dementia but has many lucid times when she knows and follows what is going on. She has 2 cats and her little dog, Piper. Mom was just awarded Medicaid. I don't have my mom's power of attorney. Family decisions have been made outside of myself, that the two cats have to go because the cat hair in the kitchen is unsanitary. I feel horrible yet no more so than my mom. My part in this is to put the cats with a friend of mine from Fredericksburg, Kate. Kate is a die-hard, cat advocate and has been since I met her around 17ish years ago. Kate will take the cats but has definitely made clear her opinion that mom is better off keeping her family together, Snookie, Leo, Piper and herself.
I can't take the cats myself. I feel that I am driving in the dagger thrice in my complicity in taking her cats away. Am I any less complicit if I let someone else do it, or is it better that I do it because she knows me and the cock crows thrice. I am Judas. Adding pain and fear to my mom's life and this time the dementia is not even an escape that she built before to protect her. It eats at her, stealing a unique person from me who has forgiven over and over. I'll do what is necessary. I usually do in so many life decisions. I have developed a calloused shell when dealing people I love when there are things to be done regardless of feelings and right/wrong.
Moms forgive all. Hopefully she will forgive again. Judas was able to complete his ultimate destruction because he could not live with what he did to Jesus. I have to keep going because I have people and pets of my own who need me and I'll forgive hurts as they come along. I see my mom as so fragile but I know that she is a fighter, too. She continues to fight the good fight but should it have to be against those she loves and a mind that is slowly eating away at her. I carry her memories and at least the knowledge of her pain. Hopefully, I can share the good with my son so he will know what Nana has done for both of us. I just wish I didn't have to kiss her on the cheek.
