I had another diary that I was writing, but things changed and I decided to come clean and write about what is really bugging me. But first a word from our sponsor:
WYFP is our community's Saturday evening gathering to talk about our problems, empathize with one another, and share advice, pootie pictures, favorite adult beverages, and anything else that we think might help. Everyone and all sorts of troubles are welcome. May we find peace and healing here. Won't you please share the joy of WYFP by recommending?
I agreed to write a diary last Saturday, but on Monday my world got a little surreal. I received a cryptic text from my older brother wanting to know if I “was coming in” that he and his wife “would love to have me stay with them”. First, I have never gotten a text from my brother and second, it made no sense, so I thought he sent it by mistake.
The text gnawed at me all day and later it dawned on me that maybe my mother died, she had been in a nursing home for about 6 years. I hunted online and saw nothing. The next morning I put in my mother’s full name, and there it was, she had died Monday. That evening my Aunt called to ask how I was and confirmed that my mother was dead. So this is where I note that I have 4 other siblings that didn’t contact me. One of my siblings did call my Aunt to inform her of the death. Then a few days later I get a voicemail from the funeral director, saying he wanted to send me paper work to cremate my mother. When I called back, she had already been cremated (I never got any paperwork), but no services had been scheduled??
My family isn’t very normal, the unit is very frazzled and frayed and always has been. What makes me feel guilty is that I haven’t shed a tear, felt bad or good, or cared one way or another that mom is gone. My earliest memory (less than a year???) is of her holding me in front of a bathroom mirror, in one of those 50s terrycloth baby towels with the hood in the corner, laughing at me; I was crying because I had shampoo in my eyes. Things between me and mother went downhill from there.
The story is long and brutal, as most stories are, and I won’t bore anyone rehashing life with my mother or my family. But, my relationship with my mother has always been one of guilt, guilt that I never liked her, guilt that I didn’t believe anything she said, guilt that we had no relationship. You know, I loved her, which is part of the guilt, but I had no respect for her, if that makes sense.
My way of coping was playing the part of a dutiful daughter, sending appropriate cards and gifts, making somewhat regular phone calls, but dreading the moment when she might open her mouth again. So I guess my relationship with my mother was based on lies and I tried hard to pretend and make our relationship seem okay to the outside world.
When I saw the funeral notice, it said:
XX is survived by her family and friends.
No one person is named, it is surreal. So I guess now I am feeling guilty that I really don’t care one way or another that my mother is dead. Is this normal?????….…..THIS IS MY FP!!
So, how has your week been, how does your family treat you, can you relate to a relationship of lies and guilt?
Here’s the point where I take a deep breath, squeeze my eyes shut, and press enter on the keyboard.