My mother ...

Soundtrack for this post: I Quit, the Hepburns

Holden: Describe in single words only the good things that come into your mind about... your mother.
Leon: My mother?
Holden: Yeah.
Leon: Let me tell you about my mother.
[Leon shoots Holden with a gun he had pulled out under the table]

Blade Runner, 1982

I spent this weekend at my parents place. My brother, the woman he chose to marry, and their 3.5 month old baby girl were there as well.

My mother and I have always had a tumultuous relationship. I realize that some of her habits are created by hardships such as loosing her own father to illness when she was only 16, but she is an adult now and responsible for her own reactions. She has been causing me stress and making me miserable for most of my 40 years, and I may have reached my breaking point this weekend.

One of my main revelations was that my mothers immediate reaction to anything that happens is

1. see the worst possible outcome
2. see how that well affect her, even if it is really about someone else
3. get angry, and start blaming
4. play the martyr card

Now, interestingly, my own reaction when something goes wrong is:

1. feel guilty
2. try to "make it better", regardless of the cost to my own sanity

Hmmm, I wonder if these two things might be related ...

My mother expects me to be her best friend. I read a book once entitled "Emotional Incest" and that pretty much sums up the relationship between my mother and I. There is no, nor has there ever been, sexual abuse by either parent, but my mother expects me to fill emotional roles in her life that should be filled by her parents, her spouse, and her friends.

When I was about 15 I lost it with her one night, and yelled at her, in front of my father, that I was not the appropriate person for her to use as a sounding board about the trouble in their marriage. I was their child, for God's sake, not her therapist. When she said she "stayed for the kids" what I heard was "its your fault I am miserable".

My father apologized to me the next day. My mother didn't talk to me for 2 weeks.

When my mother did start talking to me again, it was right back where it had always been, her complaining to me in every conversation about my father, about how crappy her life is, etc., etc. My brother had escaped to University by this point, and was flourishing as a person once he was out from the influence of our family. He has continued to be much more successful that I was at creating the distance, and has recently been strongly encouraging me to also distance myself, for the sake of my own sanity.

My father is 83, and is dying. He has less than 50% of both his lung capacity and his heart function at this point. His doctor said his lungs are basically turning to fluid inside his body. He is at home, but is on oxygen 24/7. My mom is 13 years younger that him, and will turn 70 in a month.

I always thought my mom would go first, since she is so up tight and dad is so laid back. My dad has a lazy boy recliner that is fully powered, he has a little remote that puts the foot rest up, reclines the back, and then lists to stand him up when he needs to get up. He spends most of his time in this chair, including sleeping in it, since he can't breathe when he lies down.
Saturday afternoon, the chair stopped working. It will still put the foot rest up, and stand him up, but the back will not recline.

Which means he won't be able to sleep. If he tries to sleep sitting straight up, his head falls forward and he starts to choke.

Now, the chair is only 2 months old, and has a 5 years warranty. Mom called the store and tried to get some help, but of course it was Saturday, so the repair guy wasn't there. I did not hear her original phone call, and I don't know how polite she was or wasn't. The sales lady promised to have a look and call back. I tried checking all the connections, and unplugged the chair for a few minutes to see if anything would re-set, but no luck.

Mother pitched a fit. She was mad that it happened on a Saturday. She was mad at the universe, I guess, but she took it out on me and dad. About 1/2 an hour later, my brother, his wife, and the baby arrive. Mother is so mad still she can barely talk, is slamming things around, literally spitting out one word answers to questions.

The store called back, she couldn't suggest anything, but when I explained to her dad's health and why we really needed the chair to work, she said she would call their repair guy and leave him a message, just in case he could call over the weekend.

Dinner was miserable. There is a whole extra layer of stress with my brother's wife, but we will get into that on another post. After dinner I had already made arrangements to go out with a friend, and had told mother that earlier in the day. But boy, I could hardly wait to get out of there!

Sunday wasn't much better. Dad had slept in bed with one of those triangle pillows supporting him, but hadn't slept well. I made the mistake of asking. Mom's reaction was not sympathy for my dad at not getting a good night's sleep; she was mad at him because she had gotten him the triangle pillow and he still couldn't sleep. He did not imply she was to blame, but she took it personally, and got mad.

My brother left shortly after lunch, and I left about 15 minutes later.
I realize that if she upsets me soooooo much, I should not subject myself to the situation, but I love my father, and I do want to visit him. They are not really close enough for a "day trip" visit. But I need to do something for my own mental health too. I am so upset by the visit that a gastro-intestinal problem I have is flaring up again.

A good friend has asked me if my mom has realized that once my dad dies, I won't be home to visit nearly as often.