Faith or Fear

What to choose?

There has been a lot going on in my life this year; much of which has felt beyond my control. I have wanted to write about it, and in fact, I have begun to write about it many times. The question is how much is correct to share? When an issue involves another person or people

who are living and breathing the same air at the same time, is it fair to write about my experience of them?

I have gone through a vast array of emotions, memories, and experiences since late January, when my mom took an ambulance ride to the emergency room, not to return to her home for six months. For her this meant coming to understand the limits and changes going on in her body and mind; for me, it meant spending way more time with her. This put a blinding spotlight on the unhealed parts of myself as her daughter.

I have gone through so many thoughts, feelings, and emotions, some of which shocked me in their content, strength, and blunt revelation.

Mom was diagnosed quite some time ago with an issue with her pituitary gland. Although I requested numerous times to attend the specialist’s appointment to understand what exactly was happening and what to expect, she did not want me to attend. After much prodding, I learned that she had not asked the big questions and she had no desire for me to ask them either. With her mind whole she told me that I could expect her memory issues to get worse, she was not going to recover from this issue as it was inoperable, and that it would eventually take her life. I am a big researcher and learner; I wanted to know what to expect along the way. She did not want that knowledge. I must respect her wishes even though it makes my job as her designated care director a bit more difficult; at least I believe it does.

My mom is a strong woman, even though she might tell you she is not. She has been through lots of terrible things in her life; growing up in poverty and entering into a loveless marriage in her teens, giving birth to me at age nineteen. She is a woman who is filled with love and that love is blocked by fear. Life taught her that she could not trust anyone; it was not safe to give love openly as it would be spun into pain through control and emotional abuse. My mom especially did not trust women. How can you when your own mother lied, stole from you, and ultimately abandoned you? How can you trust women when your own mother would berate you and try to take all that was sacred from you, right up to and including your own husband?

These are the things that I learned as I spent more time with her. These are stories I did not want to hear. I believed I did not need to know these things. I sought to understand why I did not feel her love for me, why I felt she did not trust me, and why being with her always left me angry. I wanted these answers and they came to me slowly through a twisty, turn filled tale of her past.

That is what the past six months have presented; an emotional journey of dark valleys with momentary spots of sunlight and fresh air. I questioned why she was still here? In January, her spouse got a call from the Emergency Room saying we needed to get there immediately. She was failing in so many ways. Her heart rate was low. The meds to keep her heart rate up had depleted the potassium in her body impacting her mind. She had a fracture from a fall months before that she did not notice, which had healed improperly taking away a lot of the mobility in her right hand. She had a UTI and was grossly dehydrated. I had been to see her the week before and I noticed she was moving slowly and her mind was not clear. When asked how she was doing, she did not mention the pain, the difficulty with her right arm, or anything. She was used to pushing down her feelings, including the signals from the body for help. She wrote all of it off to old age, and you know, things just stop working. My mom had just turned 76 a month previous and to me, that was not that old. She was a healthy, active, and slim woman her entire life. Conversations about moving, drinking more water, and eating vegetables was met with what we now call “vegetable face.” She is an adult, it’s not like I could force feed her; only influence and try to inspire her to do the things that are good for her.

This conversation would be one of the things that brought me anger. My spirit of intent was to help; her response suggested I was being bossy and disrespectful, telling her what to do was not acceptable.

As I watched my mom go through all of these struggles, it reminded me to take care of my own body; move more, drink water, and listen to what my body wants. The mirror she held up showed me where I did not want to be in my seventies.

Present day: I have been immersed in a Mary Magdalene series by author Kathleen McGowan. The first book is called The Expected One, the second is The Book of Love. In these “fictional” books, the true life of Mary and Esea (her familiar name for Yeshua, who we know as Jesus) is told. The teachings of The Way are spread throughout the book.

I have never been one for the bible, nor church. I was confirmed in the United Church at age twelve, after which I asked my mom if I could stop going. I did not find church to be a place where I could freely ask questions. My queries were responded to with shame for the act of asking.

Why is there a Father, Son, and Holy Ghost? Where is the mama? How can you have a son without a mother?

Kathleen’s books and the studies of what Yeshua taught brought me back to faith in the teaching of Christ. One of the biggest lessons I learned was that it is not possible to hold both Faith and Fear in the body at once; I must choose. This choice is not a once and done. It happens daily, moment by moment as I go through life’s challenges.

I choose Faith.

My mom, it seems, chooses to live in fear. I do not believe this is a choice she makes consciously more of a subconscious reaction and state of being that was established as a young girl, forced to grow up far too early.

This is a taste of the path I have traveled to the state of peace I chose for myself and exist in at present.

I will share more as it feels appropriate.

Thank you for your patience, your attention, and your love.