My mother shines when death is near.
She shimmers around demanding and crying and nattering and catastrophizing and meddling and hurting and dottering until I want to take a 2/4 to her back.
Being around her in her heightened state in my normal state makes me mean and useless.
I take an Ativan at 3, and a hoot of pot at 5, 7 and 10pm. Things are much smoother. I get shit done. I don’t tighten my soul when she talks, I let things slide. I am even kind.
Her best friend is dying. It is terrible and sad I deeply love her and she will be missed and what I cop to is the fact that you are allowed to be a fucking mess when your best friend is dying. All bets are off.
The problem is that with my mother in this situation- all her worst, most difficult qualities pour to the surface and overflow the room till I’m breathing through a straw in the corner. She takes over. She gets her way. She controls everything. It doesn’t not feel healthy or loving. She is the queen of the complete spin out.
And I am here, alone. Trying to not yell at her too much and even maybe if possible touch her once a day and engage her in conversation that is not about pain, death, what if… and the worst thing imaginable happening.
So a little 1mg in the afternoon after the coffee wears off, a hoot at 5 before dinner, cause I wanna, a little more after dinner so I can have a conversation with her and relax a bit and digest my food and finally she is in bed and I can just float into oblivion.
I have an addiction to using narcotics and pills in very small amounts to soften the blow of painful real life situations.
The funny thing is that they work. I am nice to her now. I am kind. My heart rate is normal. I feel like there is a blanket warming all my mad and hurt spots so they are sleeping and not worried about getting stepped on. I feel love towards her and I feel boundaries for myself. I can take a deep breath and I have perspective. I’m also totally okay that my career is on a total standstill right now, I believe it will all work out and in fact I think I deserve a rest.
A miracle pill. This is my yoga right now. I’ll do whatever I need to do so that I can take good care of my mother. This is my mantra.
But I want to feel everything. I want to be able to be strong enough to feel everything that God gives me. I do not want to numb. I want to hold it.
I feel like watching our friend die is like a preview to my mothers future and holy shit I have not felt such darkness in my life. You just cannot bring light into death. I’m sure sometimes you can but there are moments when I see my mom huddled in a ball, crying like a baby, grieving so sincerely and she has no idea how weak and feeble she looks- I see this you cannot control. This is darkness you need to crawl through alone.
It’s cool I won’t take Ativan when my mom dies. I’m actually taking Ativan cause she is alive. Half kidding.
Ya, so I am learning to be cool with just sitting here. Feeling sick vomit in the back of my back throat. Seeing her desire to care and help and then seeing that turn into dramatic madness. Then seeing my own desire to help turn into terrible meanness.
It’s a deep bowel of a shit cave, this death thing. I was very surprised when I met it for the first time. It sent me to pills.
But she still shines. She is shining brighter than when she was well. Her focus, determination, drive and love for her friend is making her like a tiger, or a bear even, tearing through whatever is in her way, bumbling and dangerous. She will fucking kill you with one swat if you are in her way, she uses her claws well, her movement are perfectly executed. She knows exactly where the path is and what to do next. This is her livelihood.