Today, a fellow Kossack dropped me a friend request on Facebook, and I got to thinking about how long it's been since I've written anything here. The GoS has been my home for nearly ten years, but my writing here has virtually always been about personal things and their political implications rather than the hard journalism that has me hitting "refresh" all day, nearly every day. So in advance of this diary, I just wanna shout out to the proprietor of this fine establishment and his crew....thanks again, Markos.
Last fall, my Dad died after a prolonged struggle with early-onset Alzheimer's Disease. My father was a working-class everyman, and his illness and death have taught me countless lessons over the last few years. I fought tooth and nail to ensure his care, blocked at nearly every turn by the egg donor who housed me as an embryo and fetus.
Less than a year later, the egg donor (aka my mother) is about to cash it in. Does that sound nasty? Cynical? Angry? Probably. My mother is the second-biggest flaming asshole I know, and her illness and impending demise are running my life at the moment. I hope it's over soon.
My mother "got god" when I was in elementary school. Convinced she was a prophet, she made my life miserable growing up. She beat me periodically in an effort to rid me of "satan" after she'd overhear me listening to Debbie Gibson on the radio. She hung crucifixes in my closet and drew the sign of the cross on my forehead with baby oil at night while I was sleeping. I still joke that I was the only kid in high school with zits in the shape of a cross on their face.
For a long time, I believed that my mother was an undiagnosed schizophrenic. She believed she was special, different, better. She was the conduit for her chosen deity, who always seemed to be to be handcrafted to suit her own needs, wants, and shortcomings. She heard voices. She avoided reality whenever possible, insisting that if something was wrong she need only ask her god and it was be resolved to her satisfaction.
I was lucky. I moved out, moved away, got away, cut the ties. My brother, who you all know as "Joe", wasn't as lucky, but eventually he, too, fled to safety and has lived with me for over a decade. The last of her potential victims, my father, remained with her until the doctors refused to discharge him to her care because she did such a piss-poor job.
And now, my dad is gone. And my mother is all alone.
She is a case study in why I'm a liberal.
My mother is terrified of everything. She thinks Medicaid (which is going to save her ass if I can get her approved) is a conspiracy to spy on her and steal her house. She is afraid of teh gays, calling the elderly lesbian couple down the street "shims" (an amalgamation of "she" and "him? Stupid). Behind every door, under every rock....someone is out to get her. This is a by-product of over thirty years of evangelical indoctrination. She has a massive persecution complex.
My mother is a hoarder. It's a fairly recent development; mostly since Daddy got sick. But unlike hoarders who just can't bring themselves to throw anything away, my mother is a hoarder because she's PREPPING. She's so sure the so-called end-times are coming and she wants to be ready. Her churches (all of them) have been loading her up with this crap for years.
My mother is depressed. She's been waiting for the second coming her entire adult life, and she's miserable that she's going to die the old fashioned way rather than be raptured up into the clouds. She's also always been convinced that her god will deny her nothing (and you should have heard her come unglued when Dad died...), so that means she doesn't need to take meds, doesn't need to eat or move. Her god will heal her, and until he does she'll just lay curled up in the fetal position.
My mother is alone. Her persecution complex led her to disown her entire family and most of her friends better than 25 years ago. She treated them like shit, and now in the last couple of years when she's been utterly abandoned she's reached out begging for help. Her siblings and I mostly want nothing to do with her, but are doing what we can because we're good people. Her paranoia means that there are no legal documents granting anyone power of attorney or medical decision making, so everything's all fucked up. And the estate will go through probate because there's no will.
So tonight, she's by herself in a nursing home, refusing to walk and treating everyone who tries to help her like abject slaves who owe her something. And over the last few weeks that I've been involved in this mess, I've come to realize she's not schizophrenic.
She's a narcissist. Just like every freaking wingnut I know.
UPDATE: I read everyone's comments avidly at work today, but I could not reply as I don't dare log on in the office.
Several have noted that my mother probably does suffer from a mental illness. She may, and she may not. I've come to believe that she "heard" voices willingly, and told everyone who would listen as a means of gaining attention. The same was true with her "gift" of prophecy, and it was odd that what she foretold suited her wishes right down to a "t". But whether she is or isn't is not important to me anymore. We are well beyond the point of my ever expecting things to change. I have been asked to pursue a conservatorship but am stalling for time because of the cost ($15-17K). Her prognosis is poor but uncertain, and she begins hospice on Friday. She is not oriented to time or place and her doctor has furnished me with a letter indicating she is not mentally capable of making her own decisions. I'm hoping that'll be enough to qualify her for Medicaid, but if it's not the nursing home will just have to make a claim against the house when I probate the estate because I am not in a position to drain my finances to pay for her care.
Someday, compassion will live in my heart where right now there is contempt. I've spent my whole life cleaning up after her, and when she's gone, I'm hoping to rest for a while. And in that rest, I'm certain that I'll be gentler in my judgment.