Ghosts Made of Ribbon and Glass
February 7, 2007
Comments were closed because I needed them to be. Thank you to everyone that emailed out of concern. There was so much more noise in my brain than I could handle. I was ready to explode from the noise. I was restless, sad, semi-numb, not sleeping, thinking far too much and trying to just be. I don’t expect everyone to understand. I’m trying to write it out here, so please bear with me.
I’ve been thinking a ton about my mother lately. Let’s jump right in to my head, shall we? Why the fuck couldn’t I have a regular mother? One who puts their arms around you when you’re leaking neuroses all over?
I guess the source of said neuroses can’t comfort you.
There was that dream about my Dad. That kinda messed me up royally. I just don’t want to sleep anymore. They both come to me, at intervals that suit them. Like ghosts, they float into my head, my life, like they always have and I just want to slam the door in their faces.
Mom, Dad? Fuck off already.
I just want them to leave me alone.
But then, there is this Incredible Sadness. Not so much with my Dad. He was barely there at the best of times. I know Tom Cruise better than I know my own father. Sure, there is sometimes a longing for a Storybook Dad, but I have my Papa, uncles and Daren’s Dad who all play strong roles in my life.
Mom. Mother. Never Mommy or Mama.
She bumps into my thoughts like they are men in a noisy bar, seducing them, making them pay. attention. to. her. now.
I’m feeling sad I’ve never been able to shed light on Normal for her. Sad that I can’t call her up and ask her what her ingredients for egg salad were. Sad that I can’t invite her over for a beer and Shepard’s Pie and laugh over silly things I did as a kid, or even better, silly things she did as a young Mom. Sad that even if she were here, even if she did come over, that it would be So Immeasurably Difficult. Plus? It would never be just one beer.
It is as if she has died. Maybe worse. Knowing she is alive, in this world, not wanting to be normal, not wanting to get help for her mental, alcoholic, abusive ways, not wanting to love me, not wanting to love our sons…it kills me to think that somewhere she is hurting too, that she’s upset things didn’t work out.
I feel stupid for caring about her, even now. I know that even if she showed up on my doorstep tomorrow, claiming sobriety and regular attendance to therapy, I still would not let her in. Well, I’m 99% sure I could be strong enough to turn her away. When she isn’t in my dreams, my thoughts, I am okay. Better than okay. I don’t know why I hang on to her. She only drags me down into the basement of emotional instability, as I turn into a small, limp child in her hands, dragged by the leg, my head bouncing off each step as we descend.
She too might have these sad moments, writhing in the agony that not one person in our entire family will speak to her. I know she finds liquid ways of ignoring those tugs at her heart. Though she might suffer with regret, some of it likely superficial, hollering for attention from those currently around her as she accepts another Oscar for her victim role, she is an angry person. She’s likely still furious I was born, not to mention the fact I ratted her out to Children’s Aid more than 3 years ago. It floors me that she is missing this.
The boys.
Daren.
ME.
You’re missing this, Mom. You’re missing Thomas shadowing Dylan through the house while Dylan plays C.S.I. with Q-tips and slides under his microscope. You’re missing Thomas carting around a toy that looks absolutely nothing like a microscope and proudly holding it up to me, proclaiming “Dis is my scoperscup!”
You’re missing it all. The hockey games, the tickle fights, the conversations, the hugs and kisses, the amazing people they are turning out to be. You are missing true love. But then, you wouldn’t know what to do with all this happiness anyway.
I would love to believe it’s only your loss. But it isn’t. I mean, they don’t have a clue who you are, but I do. I remember endless wars, your screams, like a banshee, your nails deep in my skin and the sting on my cheeks. I remember laughter, and smiles too, in little scraps of ribbon. And while I have a handful of good memories, like glass marbles in a jar, I wouldn’t let you anywhere near these amazing people.
February 8th, 2007 at 8:25 am
I am so sad for your childhood. You have a strength that amazes me. I’m so, so, so glad you have all this joy, wonder, and love! You have an amazing, wonderful family.
February 8th, 2007 at 9:29 am
That really sucks. You should be so proud of what a wonderful mother you have become even without the usual role model. I hope your kids will grow up and appreciate how hard you had to work to give them what you do.
February 8th, 2007 at 9:46 am
When I lean toward sadness - as this post makes me … I have to breathe in, breathe out and think positive. Okay, so I’m playing Pollyanna, but I REFUSE to NOT play the Glad Game right now.
So, let’s play the Glad Game, shall we?
I am SO GLAD that your children are graced by YOU as a mother. A mother who has self-confidence, can see the beauty in the day to day, and can laugh with a full heart over scoperscups and q-tip CSI.
YOu rock. I’m GLAD you rock.
February 8th, 2007 at 12:12 pm
((((((((((((((((((Karen)))))))))))))))))))))
The true measure of a person is not always what they become..but what they don’t become. You made a choice for you and your family, and you made the right one. You choose to be better than you had been taught/shown to be. And you know that.
The pain will never go away on it’s own. It can be burried, temporarily scarred over, and maybe even ignored. But never really away. That only comes by dealing with the emotions and somehow, someway finding closure and healing. If I had one wish in this world at this moment it would be to know exactly how to get that closure and healing for you.
Have you talked to your grams about this?? She may be able to help you find what you need.
(((((((((((((((((((Karen)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))
February 8th, 2007 at 12:18 pm
Oh boy do I hear you. An addict in your life sucks…no matter how not in your life they are.
And the dreams. I just dreampt (sp? gr?) of my father last night for the first time in more than two decades. WTF? I haven’t seen him in at least that long. Why do we hang on to these things in the recesses of our brain?!
Beautiful, raw, beautiful post.
February 8th, 2007 at 12:40 pm
You know, it’s not strange or weird that you sometimes get sad wishing for a ‘normal’ mom. I wish you didn’t get sad but you’re human and noone would fault you for having those thoughts. Although my mom is in my life, albeit far away, I can’t really go to her with alot of stuff because she dishes out giant portions of guilt, snide comments and general displeasure at me and my life. Our relationship is sort of fake I think. All smiles and sunshine on the surface but layers of crap underneath. You’re raising a wonderful little family there and don’t let ‘her’ bring you down. Love you muchly!
February 8th, 2007 at 1:18 pm
*hugs*
February 8th, 2007 at 2:17 pm
Karen, this post touches me in many ways…I feel compelled to share them with you, but in an email.
My friend…((tight hugs)).
February 8th, 2007 at 2:59 pm
I know in more ways than I can share how you feel. And it sucks. And it isn’t fair that we still care, even though we shouldn’t. Just wanted to say that your not alone.
February 8th, 2007 at 7:40 pm
((((((((karen))))))))))
(please come into Toronto soon so that we can have a drink and so that I can tell you to your face what an extraordinarily BRAVE and powerful woman you are)
February 9th, 2007 at 1:40 am
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February 9th, 2007 at 1:44 pm
We have the same story, except yours was the mother and mine was the father. As much as it pains you to have to work through this, just know that you doing so really helps those of us who internally wrestle with this pain. All the best.
February 9th, 2007 at 10:34 pm
oh Karen.
In all of this all I can think of is how you have risen above it and become, from what i read of you, a pretty incredible Mum yourself. Amazing really.
I don’t know you. really. face to face. but we unearth some pretty deep stuff out here in blogland…so hugs girl. lottsa big hugs.
February 10th, 2007 at 9:12 am
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