Didn't Think I Would Miss Her

It's been nearly 2 months since my mother died. She was never abusive to me, but she never really liked me - and it showed. I think sometimes she tried, or wanted to like me, or maybe she did like me sometimes, but it never lasted. She always gave me the impression that I owed her the attention I gave her.

That's not the way a child should feel.   Ever.

That's exactly how I feel. Only a few years ago, Mom admitted that I was the family "target". She told me I make a good one. Then she laughed.

After that I told my therapist, Mr. S, that when she passed, I would not miss her. But I do. I miss her. Just not the way you would expect. It's taken me the last two months to figure it out.

Because Mom treated me like she would an unwelcome neighbor kid, I was always standing somewhere in the room watching her with my siblings, living (literally) vicariously through their interactions with her, through their laughter, through their love from her. I don't remember ever wishing it were me on her lap or that the hug was mine, or the smile was proud of me - that was just how things were. Me, on the outside, always on the outside, watching.

Because of being DID, there are small ones who now don't know what to do with her absence. We aren't "done". We aren't "finished". We haven't had what we need to grow and mature. And now, there is no chance that it will happen. We will remain unfinished, undone. I don't know how to complete my childhood. There are so many questions. So many that will forever remain un"done".

I realized not long ago that I was not yet finished growing up and I tried so hard to repair all the wrongs between my mother and me - and between my siblings and me. There just wasn't enough time, and now, it's too late.

Interestingly, because of the death of my mother, I am finally able to grieve for my father. He loved me. Back when I was really a 10 year old, we didn't know I would be left alone and undone. I think he would have tried to fix things. I learned so much from him - we just didn't know.

I don't hate her. I wish I did.

Ivory

Time Ran Out

My mother passed away only 2 weeks ago. Yes, she was in her 80s and she had some health problems, but she was finding a new way to enjoy each day. The assisted living apartment she lived in brought about a change in my mother that was a joy to see.

I had begun to believe there was hope for us to "fix" whatever it was that had created the crevice between us. Every moment I spent with her was one of walking on egg shells to be sure I never made things worse between us. Even so, there were days I knew that because I had stood up for myself or stood my ground, I was again, "the bad guy".

Still, with every passing weeks and months, I'd begun to get a nagging feeling that we wouldn't have enough time, not enough time for me to convince her that I'm not a bad person. I desperately needed for her to realize that I'm not a bad person.

My therapist has told me over the years that one thing I could do would be to prove my siblings wrong and eventually, Mom would see that what they had told her about me wasn't true. I believed Mr. S. I knew that it would work - if there was enough time.

Time ran out.

Within 2 weeks of taking her to the ER, she died. My siblings and I had a horrible fight in the hospital because I wanted to bring her home to spend her last days - as was her spoken wish when the doctors told her there was nothing more they could do for her. They, again, ganged up on me but finally, this one last time, I wasn't about to back down. It took its tole, tho. I was afraid they would spirit Mom away to a "facility" as they had said they would. I'm still horrified at that thot. They almost got away with it.

I cried all the way home from the hospital and all night. I was losing my mother before we were "finished" AND I was letting her down one more time by not being strong enough to grant her one last wish. And then the next morning my sister in law called to tell me that she and my brother had decided to fight for Mom, too. Now, we were three - three against three and two of those three held Power of Atty.

 But the next morning, as tears fell shamelessly all the way to the hospital, it dawned on me that the doctors had given my mother the option of a facility or going home. They knew she was in her right mind, thus making the Power of Atty paper, worthless. So when I walked into her room (all of them were already there), I spoke as if no one had discussed anything except for Mom going home. My brother and his wife stood by my side. The stress mom had felt about having all of us choose where she would spend her last few days/weeks had taken its tole on her, but her smile now told me that she was happy to be going home to my brother's house.

My sister in law is a wonderful and selfless person. She welcomed my mother into her home as if she were her own mother. I helped with her care, our children helped with her care. Two of my siblings refused to come visit or help care for Mom if I was there. Most of my life, I have stepped aside. Not this time.

Two very short days later, I stood by Mom's bedside discussing a few things with my brother. Mom's breathing suddenly changed, and we knew. My brother and I rushed to her and she turned towards us and reach out her hand to mind. I held her hand and begged her to try to take one more breath. My brother shed a multitude of tears as our mother breathed her last.

Two of our siblings were not there because of their pride and selfishness. That is their cross to bear and I am  already aware that it weighs heavily on my sister. They blame me for our mother's untimely death.

I know I am not responsible for her death. I was right where I wanted to be, even tho I knew their pride would keep them from her death bed. I also know they were having a lot of trouble coping with the suddenness of it all.

My biggest problem is that I wasn't done; I wasn't ready to be let go. My relationship with Mom was intentionally damaged by my siblings and there wasn't enough time to repair it. I'm afraid that Mom died thinking I was a bad person and now she will never know the truth. Time just ran out.
 

Trains and Tracks

I just knew if I stood on the track, a train would come. Always does.

I've spent way too much time the past 2 months with my mother and sister - along with that came the possibility of communication from other siblings.

Work has been difficult the same 2 months because of the obsessive coworker. She is making me nuts!!

I haven't spoken with my youngest daughter - they are busy and her husband is still a bit cross-wise over me getting mad at their dog for attacking mine.

My older daughter still isn't communicating much. She called last week in tears, but wouldn't tell me why. I tried not to pry too much, but the call left me itching with worry for her. After the call, which was so very short, I began to feel as if I was standing on train tracks leaning forward looking for her and worrying about her and wondering if she is okay.

Instead of prayed for answers, a train came along and smacked me flat. Today, I spent 2 hours with my therapist. I haven't been to see him in awhile and I'd almost forgotten how just the sound of his voice can calm me - and sooth the open wounds from the train hit.

I had gotten overwhelmed trying to deal with my mother - who rarely, if ever, acknowledges my oldest daughter and her children. I always leave Mom feeling beat up and hurt. I don't have a close friend so I have no one to share all this with and it sort of snuck up on me - you know, the train.

Ivory

Jealousy

.

I find it sadly interesting how at work, people believe my life has been touched by the wand of goodness and light.

Social Services. That's where I work.. My peers can't seem to get past the fact that I'm not working 2 jobs, I don't use the f-word , I have only 2 kids (neither of whom are living with me, thus leaving me free to my money on myself), and I've never been arrested and I don't like to get drunk.
.
Because I don't talk about my past, they assume there isn't one. They call me "princess" and "privileged" because during my marriage, my ex made a lot of money and I came out of my divorce with all the material things.

I can't talk about my past because it would shock their tender sense of human nature.
I can't tell them that I have DID - they wouldn't be able to relate to me at all, then.
I can't work 2 jobs, tho I need the income of same. DID symptoms pop out all over when I get too tired or stressed.
Only one of my daughters knows who I really am. All of my peers were lucky enough to raise their children AND none of them were raped.
I don't drink for obvious reasons and I work hard at keeping a good reputation. My peers share a history of drugs/drinking/whoring.

I see the oddity of what I'm writing (I bet you believe social workers are held to highest standards - think again). Honestly, had I known that a prerequisite for working here was lack of morals, I would have turned down the offer and the irony of it all is that they don't like me much because they are jealous. Still, that leaves me on the wrong end of things. Have I mentioned that I'm the only one in my unit who has a degree? Another reason they don't like me - they believe only the privaledged go to college.

They believe they have suffered more than anyone (they wear their sordid pasts like body armour and dare anyone to have been through any worse experiences). They believe they alone have the right to "understand" our clients because they "have been in the trenches". They believe they alone have the right to judge and sentence everything that everyone does and says, including me. Interestingly enough, tho, they are nice to me, they just don't respect my education and they try at every corner to correct my opinions, my ability and education.

The whole of it all is so -- backwards.

Jealousy is such a revealing thing.
Thanks everyone, for listening.

Ivory

Silence is now Golden

I still don't know why my birth daughter is being so quiet, but she has, at least, begun to text some. I respond only with polite conversation. Still, right in the middle of a (short) conversation of one work questions, answers, and comments, she will just stop, and there is the screaming silence.

It seems when I make a comment that is purely my own thot, she corrects me and she's not so nice about it as if she is afraid I'm not understanding her. So, I keep it to a minimum. The only time we texted for any length of time she let me know she is disgusted with me because I don't condone illegal drug use and she tried to rub it in my face that the mother of her boy-toy smoked pot with them and the world didn't fall down. I know she thinks that if a good Mormon mommy can see the light, why can't I?

Actually, now that I'm getting used to the silence, I appreciate it. There is no drama, no "baiting" (she does that a lot), no arguments. But, there is the silence. I wish there wasn't, but I don't handle drama too well.

All this is connected, some how, to my more recent DID problems. Once again I've been missing some time - not big bunches of time, more like 30 minutes here, 15 minutes there. Or just forgetting who I am for a few minutes. Once it began, my consciousness whirled around me like a strobe light. It lasted about 2 weeks, but left me scared and leery of every day. One day, I came upstairs with my puppy behind me and from the time I climbed the stairs to the walk to the kitchen, I'd forgotten I had a puppy. As I turned into the kitchen, her white coat caught the corner of my eye and I dropped the dishes and screamed so loud, poor puppy went running back down the stairs. In just an instant, I was me again. I felt so ashamed.

This always starts when I get overwhelmed with life. My family. My mother.

I had a talk with my mother this evening. My cousin, who is adopted. Both his parents have passed on and he is curious about his birth parents, so, because they know about my daughter, they paid a visit to my mother. Of course, she didn't tell them that no one in my family except my daughter acknowledges my birth daughter as family. Of course she told him that my birth daughter is fine - she wouldn't know otherwise, she never asks. Of course she encouraged my cousin to find his birth parents, she wants everyone to believe it is a wonderful thing to have a child brought into your life that you never wanted and had a hand in throwing away. Honestly, I don't think many people have this problem, just my family. NO ONE asks about my birth daughter. How can they be so cold and callous?

I haven't been around much lately and now that I'm not working long hours anymore, I'm going to be her more. I hope you all are getting thru the day with strength and tenacity.

Silence

My oldest daughter is not talking to me. I don't know why not - I have a few guesses, all of which make her the selfish one. If non of my speculations are true, then I am responsible, but she won't tell me what I did. I don't think I did anything, in fact, I think she is expecting something from me that I cannot, and don't have to, give.

Boundaries.

It's all about boundaries. I believe she has none, or they aren't very high and she expects the same from me, however, my boundaries are 8 feet tall and bullet proof. She doesn't understand that I would have boundaries where she is concerned and she's getting tired of trying to knock them down. I don't know what to do and I'm getting mad at her for screwing things up.