For as long as I can remember, my mother was always sick. She had way too many surgeries to count. She had any ailment that you can possibly imagine. She took huge amounts of Morphine and Demerol. Sometimes that would be coupled with wine. We always had the economy size of wine.
In elementary school I worried so much about her. She was always in the hospital or in bed at home. Many times, when she was leaving to have a surgery or be hospitalized, she would tell me that she probably would not be coming home and that she probably wouldn’t survive this time.
One day, in 5th grade, she told me she definitly would die this time. I said my good-byes and went to school. At school one of the teachers called me into a little room and asked me why I was always crying in the morning. I told her that my mom was going to die today and I’m going to miss her. The teacher sort of chuckled and hugged me and said everything would be fine and sent me back to class.
I remember that stomach ache like it was yesterday. I remember thinking all day at school that I should have told her about this or that.
I’m not sure why that teacher didn’t take me seriously. I’m not sure why my Mother did that to me.
But it has left a permanent insecurity in my soul.
My Mother turned 79 last week and is still living. I went to see her a few months ago after 4 years as a surprise. She was angry that she didn’t know I was coming. She stayed in her room most of the time.
Growing up with a Mother who is mentally ill is not easy. Thinking that every day was her last day left me nervous and anxious most of the time. I often wondered what her funeral would be like. I wondered how I would live with all boys since my sister had already left home.
I didn’t call on her birthday because I honestly don’t know what to say. The last rejection largely contributed to my desire to end my own life. I’m trying to be protective of myself until I learn how to love myself and know that I’m ok without her approval.
She’s in a nursing home now and I’m thinking the end is near. But then I’ve always thought that.
When she passes I know that my heart will be broken. Not because of the love that we shared but because of the love I never received and will never receive.
She told me once that she was also sexually abused by my grandfather. I can’t confirm or deny that it’s true.
What I can say is thank God I am able to love my son and be there for him when he needs me. I’m not a perfect Mom but I have given it my all.
When I’m 79, I pray my child only has loving and happy memories of his mother.
Until next time – I am being MJ everyday.