A little background....

I thought a little detour into my past might help to explain some of the things I will post on this blog and maybe after reading this you won't judge me too harshly for the things I might say in the future. I was raised by a mad woman. Literally. My mother came from a poor family and dropped out of high school in 9th grade. She met my dad when she was in her early twenties and he was in his fifties. She had already had one failed marriage at the age of eighteen that produced my older brother. My mother met my dad, who was already married, and promptly started having babies. Three daughters later, my dad was in his early sixties when I was born.

My mom never "acted" normal as long as I can remember. I don't know if she was ever diagnosed, because she won't (or can't) tell me, but I think she may be manic depressive, narcissistic and maybe a little psychotic (sometimes). My dad died when I was three, and my siblings and I went off to foster homes because my mother couldn't handle raising us. She "attempted" suicide several times. I say "attempted" because it was more a cry for attention than a need to die. She would take some pills, then call a friend or relative and tell them she just took pills. They would come over and save her and we would go off to foster homes. My sister says that one time she called us all in her bedroom and said, "I am going to kill myself now, you go out there in the living room and think about that." Luckily, I was a young age at the time and I don't remember that.

Years later she married an alchoholic when I was 9 and then the real torture began. I would have been better off in a foster home. He beat her in front of us and she really played the martyr role. It wasn't til years later that I saw how she contributed to the situation. I'm not saying she asked to be beaten, because she didn't, and it wasn't right. But after his episodes of drunkenness she would come to my bedroom (or one of my sisters) and cry all night and claim that we didn't love her because we didn't come to her rescue. WE didn't stick up for and her save her from him. That's when I swore I would never put myself in her situation. I always thought that she was a total victim, but saw those nights that she was really sick and needed some help.

Over the years she has gotten worse. Her husband died in 1991 and now she lives alone, depressed all the time. She is very fatalistic and reads the obits everyday to find some obscure person she thinks she knew, so she can call me and tell me how much she loved that person and cry. Her repsonse to my cancer has been typical for her. Everything is always about her. When she found out she said, "It's all my fault! She wouldn't have gotten cancer if I had been a better mother!" I wasn't surprised.

For my own mental health I have to limit my contact with her. She talks about people she knew who have died from cancer. I can't take that. She knows I don't like it yet insists on talking about it. When my sister complained to her about her behavior she said to her in a nasty tone, "Death is a fact of life and she has to get used to it!"

My siblings and I have come through all this okay though. No major problems, some divorces and some early wild years, but mostly we are alright (no one is in jail!). I consider that success. I don't blame my mom for some things she did, she was young and had no education. She is sick, and can't make the right decisions. But it is hard sometimes to deal with the fact that she is not ever going to be the mother I want her to be, and its hard to be compassionate all the time with someone who doesn't seem to know better. She has her good days when she seems completely normal, and I love that. But, I don't mourn it to much anymore because I'm past that. I don't have anytime now to dig up old ghosts.