Pillars

Some great news with Tech. Really, it is just awesome and am so glad he is on the road to recovery. It is said to the Thank the Lord for his will to be done. To know that it will be. That Absolute Faith. A feeling within, a knowing, that something will be ok. I can't explain it. But I sure wish that I could feel that about my own self, my own prayers. I seem to come to this place of guilt in asking for something for myself. There are certainly those more deserving, in more need of God's grace. I am glad He graced Tech.

Ok then...

I feel like a leech has been placed over my existence and is sucking all those things that scare me, to the surface. And I mean really scare, deep seeded fears and the like. The things that I have told myself are past. The past can not be undone. It is what is was and we move forward. We learn, make better choices for ourselves and our children. We take the memory of what happened to us and turn it around and do the opposite so as not to repeat and propel the cycle. But when I am thrust into facing that which scares me, it is like a rewind on play. All the scenes, all the events take place lightening fast before my minds eye, backwards. With feelings included. It isn't just the sights I see but the emotions and hurts that went with them.

My adopted Mother is coming to stay with me for a few weeks. I spoke with my sister tonight to confirm the dates and she asked me to set up the flight itinerary. I really hadn't thought it was going to happen. We had discussed the possibility for several months. The possibility is now turning into a reality.

She has been ill. My mother underwent a liver transplant 10 months ago and has had a rocky recovery since. A fractured pelvis, numerous infections and several bouts of depression (she is Bi-Polar) and dementia (ripping out tubes and needles, wandering out into the streets of LA, I think, constitues some sort of dementia). I have talked to her, listened and been there for her in the way that I can. I tell her I am praying for her. Her only response to me is "Yeah yeah Michelle, you go ahead and pray."

I haven't been there physically to help my sister. I went down to visit a few months before her surgery was approved, to spend time, Christmas with all of us together, that kind of thing. So much has been placed on my sisters shoulders this past year. I hear the frustration and suffocation in her voice when we speak. It is the least I can do to offer some kind of relief. I really want to do that for her, my sister.

I am not sure how to segue into the feelings I have regarding my mother...so I am just going to cut right into it. As a word of warning, this is really personal and probably is better left unsaid. For whatever reason, I am unloading.

My memories do involve some happy ones. Ones of my sister getting a motorcycle for Christmas, my brother getting his tricked out Trans-Am (a la Smokey and The Bandit) and my mom and dad buying that house she just had to have. (I know, a bit materialistic. But that was my family. Money bought happiness, in their eyes) My happy moments were that of laying on the grass, covered with 2 litters of Old English Sheepdog puppies. Or, watching the June bugs dance hypnotically under the street lights. It is the "other" stuff I have a hard time with. The memory at 5 when I stumbled down the hallway to see why they were fighting and getting hit in the head with a telephone that was meant for my father. Then, getting yelled at and smacked for being out of bed, by her. The memory at 8 when her response to what I said I wanted to be when I grew up, was that I was too stupid to accomplish anything. The memory at 12 when she said no one would ever love me cause I was too ugly. The memory at 13 when I was beat because I had worn the same exact sweater 2 days prior. The memory at 17 when sitting at my aunts house in Las Vegas and she told the story of my adoption. How she didn't want me and was stuck with 2 girls instead of just the one she did want. The memory at 22. When she handed me a bill, detailing every expense in raising me and wanted reimbursement, followed by commentary of how difficult and worthless I was. Even though I had handed her every paycheck I made for the past two years and another two years to follow with the idea it would pay my keep and any debts I had, only to find out she used it for other purposes. There were other things. Things I dare not speak, much less, type.

I know my experience growing up wasn't that bad in comparison to others. I have talked with those that suffered unspeakable abuse and neglect. So many of us have to some degree or other. I certainly do not compare myself or begin to judge on any level the severity. Nor, do I feel sorry for myself. Our experiences and our past is what makes us the kind of person we are. Giving that we have taken them and learned something from them. Maybe, I am just trying to give some explanation where the disassociation and boundaries exist with my mother. Why I am having a hard time with accepting my mother coming into my home, internally. When I go down to visit, it is just that. I am a visitor. It is a foreign place to me and so I can distance myself and keep a healthy boundary with her, mentally. But, she is coming here. I, will be the one to take care of her. I can assure you I won't be doing so from a place that she taught me about. But rather, from a place that my birth mother taught me, of loving kindness and selfless devotion, regardless of what transpired before.

I am hoping for some kind of healing. Some kind of understanding or even an acceptance of choices and words given. I don't know that we will have that talk. She still scares me, intimidates me and when I am around her I revert into that girl that thinks....well...thinks a lot of things she shouldn't.

Apologies are already offered up for this post.