Raziaar
I Hate Custom Titles
- Joined
- Sep 13, 2003
- Messages
- 29,769
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That's what my mom asked me to do on the phone tonight. She lamented to me again how much she hates life and how she just wants to be in heaven and she requested that I pray that she dies in her sleep.
This was preceded by begging me yet again to come and get her. To take her away from the "hellhole". A place that is so horrid to her now apparently, but not so much that during all of these years she has made no effort to capture the life that she always says she wanted, instead relying on caretakers to make sure that she eats and gets her medicine.
She's been steadily going downhill. At one point, for a period of about six months she had stopped calling me and my brother. I feared that she was dead. It was easier for me to not try harder to find the phone number for her that I misplaced, and instead just not call...fearing for the worst, and too afraid to actually get that factual revelation. She wasn't dead though, and she's still been there, miserable, and she's starting to call again more frequently, like she has in the past. Before it was asking for photos and letters. Then it was asking for money. And now it's asking that I pray for her to die in her sleep.
I only really think about the one option that she always gives me. To come and get her. To bring her home to be near me and my brother. That's her request, it has been for as long as I can remember. That's her sole requirement for happiness, as if doing so will suddenly make her happy and erasing over a decade of loneliness. I suppose it could make her happy, since that's all she's wanted for so long, at least as a major goal. But what about me and my happiness? My relationship with my mom has been an incredibly destructive force on my life. A great deal of my depression stems from her. Genetically and emotionally. Her perpetual spin into depression and staying in caretaking homes ever since she tried to smother me and my brother with a pillow when I was a baby and he was an infant. Her infatuation with religion is what instilled the fear of religion in me and it stayed with me for a large portion of my life, always afraid that if I wasn't believing in Jesus that I would burn in hell for all eternity. Her eating habits sort of passed on to me from the times that we were able to visit her for one summer here, or a summer there. An infatuation with food as a means of filling the voids she had in her life, usually me and my brother. I think it's so bad to the point now that she can't even walk without assistance of a walker. A point I've never attained and hope never to.
I live day by day after each phone call I receive from her, riddled with guilt... knowing that I don't have the finances to do what she requests, but that if I pool together all the money I have and save it I can do just that. But if I do that, where do I go from there? I have an incredibly unhealthy mother figure who I have no place to put, whose nearby presence would spike her manic periods and my depressive ones. It's something I tell myself with the deepest regret that I don't want to do. I am better off with my mother there, than I am with her here. And that kills me. It really does kill me. I don't want it to be that way. I wish she could find some way to get herself moved out to Oklahoma to be closer to her mom and sister as well as to me and my brother, but far enough away that she wouldn't sink us all into the horrific pit of depression that she has waded in for nearly all of my life.
I cannot think of any way to accomplish that healthier middle ground however. A way to visit her far more regularly than I ever have, without her being able to inject herself into my life that she's never been a part beyond a sad and depressive level. A relationship that has completely deteriorated itself such that she can only generate guilt from her despair and that I can only generate disappointment and sorrow from my fear and on some level unwillingness to do as she requests. I cannot even carry on conversation with her anymore. She never seems to solidly understand what I say, either because noise in the background is too loud or she's simply not in the best state of mind. Even if I worked up some genius plan I would need her cooperation in executing it and getting her moved, and I know that would be impossible because there is no communication between us that extends beyond anything trivial.
I know my relationship with my mother will be the sort of thing that will haunt me for all of my life. And now it's going to haunt me even more now that she asks me to pray that she leaves hell on earth and can die in her sleep.
This was preceded by begging me yet again to come and get her. To take her away from the "hellhole". A place that is so horrid to her now apparently, but not so much that during all of these years she has made no effort to capture the life that she always says she wanted, instead relying on caretakers to make sure that she eats and gets her medicine.
She's been steadily going downhill. At one point, for a period of about six months she had stopped calling me and my brother. I feared that she was dead. It was easier for me to not try harder to find the phone number for her that I misplaced, and instead just not call...fearing for the worst, and too afraid to actually get that factual revelation. She wasn't dead though, and she's still been there, miserable, and she's starting to call again more frequently, like she has in the past. Before it was asking for photos and letters. Then it was asking for money. And now it's asking that I pray for her to die in her sleep.
I only really think about the one option that she always gives me. To come and get her. To bring her home to be near me and my brother. That's her request, it has been for as long as I can remember. That's her sole requirement for happiness, as if doing so will suddenly make her happy and erasing over a decade of loneliness. I suppose it could make her happy, since that's all she's wanted for so long, at least as a major goal. But what about me and my happiness? My relationship with my mom has been an incredibly destructive force on my life. A great deal of my depression stems from her. Genetically and emotionally. Her perpetual spin into depression and staying in caretaking homes ever since she tried to smother me and my brother with a pillow when I was a baby and he was an infant. Her infatuation with religion is what instilled the fear of religion in me and it stayed with me for a large portion of my life, always afraid that if I wasn't believing in Jesus that I would burn in hell for all eternity. Her eating habits sort of passed on to me from the times that we were able to visit her for one summer here, or a summer there. An infatuation with food as a means of filling the voids she had in her life, usually me and my brother. I think it's so bad to the point now that she can't even walk without assistance of a walker. A point I've never attained and hope never to.
I live day by day after each phone call I receive from her, riddled with guilt... knowing that I don't have the finances to do what she requests, but that if I pool together all the money I have and save it I can do just that. But if I do that, where do I go from there? I have an incredibly unhealthy mother figure who I have no place to put, whose nearby presence would spike her manic periods and my depressive ones. It's something I tell myself with the deepest regret that I don't want to do. I am better off with my mother there, than I am with her here. And that kills me. It really does kill me. I don't want it to be that way. I wish she could find some way to get herself moved out to Oklahoma to be closer to her mom and sister as well as to me and my brother, but far enough away that she wouldn't sink us all into the horrific pit of depression that she has waded in for nearly all of my life.
I cannot think of any way to accomplish that healthier middle ground however. A way to visit her far more regularly than I ever have, without her being able to inject herself into my life that she's never been a part beyond a sad and depressive level. A relationship that has completely deteriorated itself such that she can only generate guilt from her despair and that I can only generate disappointment and sorrow from my fear and on some level unwillingness to do as she requests. I cannot even carry on conversation with her anymore. She never seems to solidly understand what I say, either because noise in the background is too loud or she's simply not in the best state of mind. Even if I worked up some genius plan I would need her cooperation in executing it and getting her moved, and I know that would be impossible because there is no communication between us that extends beyond anything trivial.
I know my relationship with my mother will be the sort of thing that will haunt me for all of my life. And now it's going to haunt me even more now that she asks me to pray that she leaves hell on earth and can die in her sleep.