The Mother Wound: Part Eighteen

Boundaries... who draws the line?

Straight from the journal:

July 2023:

I went to visit my mom today. I noticed that her face and hands are very swollen. She said that is a result of the meds she is taking. She told me that the doctor said whatever she is doing, keep doing it as she is doing well. He told her to definitely keep crocheting.

Seeing Mom’s hands and face like this, having her repeat to me that she is not going to get better, was hard. I think I was in denial of the fact that this illness is not temporary. I think somehow, I thought she was being fatalistic. She repeated, with emphasis, that she was going to continue to get worse, not better.

I was in denial. I do not know how to feel. She has been hard on me for lots of my life but she is the only mom I have. There are a wide range of emotions I am experiencing all at once.

I think a part of me thought somehow, some way, our relationship would change. Maybe something is wrong with me that I hold grudges, but are they grudges or simply boundaries to protect myself, my heart, my self-worth… She told me stories that mattered to her until I left.

August 2023:

Losing a parent is hard, having a parent who is lost to you in their mind is the next level of hell. You know they are in there somewhere in an old version of the software that is them. The keystrokes to get to them are no longer available and the current version is glitchy and corrupt.

My mom has something wrong with her pituitary gland. It messes with her memory. She knows who we are and she can remember most things but has a real problem with short-term memory. Recently we were over helping her with a computer issue and she was eagerly anticipating a package from Amazon. It arrived and I went out to retrieve it from the front step. It was two balls of yarn with which she planned to sew a cushion. She ordered a little manicure set too and gave it to me, having added it to her order simply to save on shipping costs.

This morning, she excitedly texted us to say her yarn had arrived. She had no memory of my retrieving it, or any of the conversation that followed.

While I was visiting, she showed me a baby sweater that was nearly complete and how she needed to order more yarn. She had been waiting a long while for it to arrive, only to realize she did not actually complete the order. She told me this three times.

I worry about her. She lives with her common-law spouse and I wonder at what point he will not be able to care for her. Is it better for her to stay with him or go to a care home? When do we make this decision? What is best? Is this my decision to make? How do you consult someone who is not fully in control of their mind? What constitutes “of sane mind and body”?

It is difficult to know at what point we should take over her finances and decision making. I do not want to offend her, but I also do not want her to get taken advantage of or lose her savings or worse. This part of life is difficult. I also do not feel she trusts me to have her best interests at hand. I think this would be easier if we had a close loving relationship, but we do not.

I will always ensure that my boys know I love them, no matter what happens.

September 2023:

I listened to Sahara Rose’s podcast on boundaries yesterday while I walked and she basically described my life with the father of my children. I melded into who I thought he wanted me to be to gain approval and affection that I did not get from my dad, or mom, for that matter. Later, when I got tired and wanted to be myself, he was confused.

One thing that really hit me was when she talked about over-contributing in the hopes that it would balance out in a relationship and then it never does. That was a hard truth. I think I even said ooph out loud when she noted the fact that the person just expected more, not less from them. That was my experience and I now see even more clearly my part in that dynamic. I definitely over gifted my time, attention, and nurturing; giving loaves of love, only to receive crumbs in return.

That is something I no longer want to do.

I was woefully ill equipped to set proper boundaries as a young woman with my time, attention, and even my body at times; somehow believing my needs and feelings were not as important as the other; any other. I needed love and validation of my worth so badly.

Now, I understand. I choose where to spend the precious moments of my life. I admire the young women who seem to be figuring it out so much sooner than I did. I used to envy them or think they were faking it. How could they know already when it has taken me so long? I am happy to see that they can reach out to each other, lean on one another, learn from the vulnerable shares on the internet. They do not have to suffer alone, believing they are the only ones; that something is inherently wrong with them. They can shift and grow to heights beyond where I was, maybe even beyond where I am now. Who knows?

Mom messaged that her balance is getting worse yesterday and that she contacted the doctor. I suspect she is going to learn that this is part of the experience of the pituitary gland issue. I wonder if she will need to go into a home before this is through. I hope not for her sake as she loves George and I do not know if she would see him every day. For my sake, I do not want to put her through that.

I wish I had the relationship with my mom that my dear friend, Jolie has with her Granny. I just do not have that much in common with my mom and I always feel that I cannot be myself around her. If I pick up my phone, which I rarely do in front of her, she says I am always on my phone. It is annoying to feel like I am walking on eggshells around her.

I do not like eggshell people, related or otherwise. Maybe I should post that newsletter. Maybe there are other people like me who need to be liberated from the shell game and perhaps some sensitive and insensitive people will recognize themselves.

I picked my brother up from the airport today. He is here to visit Mom.

I asked him to clarify what happened regarding a text he had mentioned previously. Apparently, he got angry with mom and she was unhappy with what he had to say. He said that mom said she did not trust me and was going to switch the executor and power of attorney to him, alone. My brother told her that she could do that, and that it would make things unnecessarily difficult for us, since he lives two provinces away.

He reminded mom about how much extra work it was for me when dad passed, how we had been so cooperative and fair with one another. She relented but was unhappy with him.

I do not know what I had done to make her not trust me. He said she spoke about the way I handled money when I was in my first marriage. My brother reminded her that it was twenty years ago, and that I obviously was doing something right, that I was able to buy a lovely house again after a divorce in my mid-forties, and still retire at fifty-five to do the things I love.

I recognize that this conversation happened almost a year ago and that lots of nice things have happened between her and I since then, however, that does not change the way I feel from verification that she does not trust me. The pain is fresh and now real to me. For all I know, she does not even remember saying those things.

Also, she still has not acknowledged the email I sent her where I poured my heart out about how her stories made me depressed and ready to die.

Why do I continually allow the unresolved trauma of other people to bring me to my knees? Why can I not just find peace and remain there? Why did I have to ask my brother the question in the first place?

I guess I am still looking for my mother’s unconditional love and I am never going to find it.

Later that night, I confirmed that this conversation between my brother and mother took place after I wrote the honest email to her about how she hurt me. The email that she has never responded to, nor even acknowledged the existence of. (The email and reason for it was discussed in part four of this series.)

The view from today:

It is not pleasant for me to go back in time and share these difficult times from my life with Mom.

At times, I am unhappy about how I responded to her.

At times, I am angry with myself that I allowed my view of myself to be dictated by others, who if I am honest, did not really have a great grasp of themselves so why was I allowing them to direct my character, my reputation, and my feelings about me!

I am sharing this journey because the outcome is good. I am in a place of peace and it was a long and difficult ride to get here.

My hope, my spirit of intent in sharing is that someone, somewhere may recognize that they are not alone, that peace can be found. I found it. I am living it. My mother is still alive and I am at peace with her, not because she has vastly changed and grown, but because I have.

Thank you for your time in reading my story. I know how precious time is and I am incredibly grateful that you are spending some of yours with me.