I went to visit my mother today because I haven’t seen her since she went to Atlanta to rescue my sister. I found a crumpled old woman, older than her years, in the fetal position on her couch. I woke her up and she held onto my arm but then fell back asleep. I sat down and started to talking to her and she woke for a second and then was back asleep. I tugged her to a sitting position and she looked at me with eyes like those of a fish that had been out of water too long – murky, milky, glassy – then she fell back asleep.
I fixed us lunch – chicken scallopini, asparagus and white beans – and put it all on the table – then I went and helped her to her chair. She sat for a moment, and then fell asleep in her chair. I said, “Mom, why are you falling asleep? Have you taken anything?” – no she said, just fatigued. She has been asleep since yesterday afternoon.
She lit a cigarette and after a couple of drags, let it burn out in the ashtray as she struggled to breathe. She took one bite of the chicken and chewed it for a long time till she seemed to have fallen asleep again. I woke her up. She lit another cigarette. She told me that she had had a horrible week having started with losing her Dillard’s store credit and then seeing my sister who was skeletal and angry at her. My sister admonished her for not helping her. She said she has needed help since September [yet she visited in December with her husband and was fine]. She grew increasingly angry with mom because she realized that my mother is in no condition to take care of herself much less of her. Personality disorder – narcissism – I called it years ago.
But I digress. Then mom started crying about my sister. And I snapped. You can’t save her. You need to focus on taking care of yourself. But then something broke down in me before I could even finish. My mother, through her milky eyes, could see it break in me. She said, “Don’t look at me. Turn away.”
I’ve watched her put herself in dangerous situations, smoke till she was out of breath, drink away reality day upon night, withdraw from the world, hide behind fearful and paranoid eyes, and even though I’ve come to a better place of what I’m supposed to do about it, it’s still the hardest thing in the world to bear witness to – someone you love killing themselves – to say it is tragic is almost laughable.
Who you are is not just what is inside of you but also colored by the cards that you are dealt. I chuckled with L the other day as we both sat bitching about our house remodels and stressful jobs. Then I pointed out to her – look at us, we’re so damn lucky and we are sitting here carping about stupid problems. I am lucky in so many ways – this woman, who has never been able to suffer reality, and who withdrew from life so long ago, has always shown unconditional love to me. That’s not mothering – no it’s not – and it is part and parcel of my strong desire to mother – to get the cards right, to put them on the table in the order they are supposed to be in, not the way they were dealt – but some mothers mother without ever loving their offspring unconditionally – and given the choice at this age I can safely say I’ll take the love.