For years, I never understood my mom. I didn't understand her hurt, her pain, her sorrow. I didn't understand how one minute she was my best friend, and the next minute she and I were at each other's throat. She is a fuckin lunatic, is what I often thought. Like a bonafide bipolar nutcase. Fuck the drugs, and the so-called damage it may have done, my mom needed to be committed to the nearest psych ward, immediately if not sooner.
Sometimes, I would walk past her bedroom and she would be sitting on her bed just staring, rocking herself back and forth not saying anything, just rocking as if in a trance. I would stand in the hallway not sure if I should interrupt or should I ask if she was okay. Instead I would let her stay in the trance. Then, I would silently sit on the floor as I could hear her crying, thinking, I really need to call and get her some help because she was so crazy. I was convinced.
Maybe I should call my dad? No, she'd just cuss him out and further her craziness in his eyes, and he'd get mad at me for dragging him into her crazy world.
Maybe I should call my uncle, my mom's brother? Yeah he could help me figure out what to do? No, they would just go back and forth because for whatever reasons they didn't understand each other, and he wrote his sister off years ago.
Hell, maybe I can go get her a bottle of Alize, because that is her drink of choice and clearly she needs something and I don't know what to do.
Fuck it, I just have to live with a crazy mom. Hi, I'm Lisa, no you can't come over because often times my mom snaps out, goes into crying spells, cusses me and you out for no reason and is just crazy....can you handle that? No? Well neither can I....can I live with you?
Until 13 years later......
I find myself sitting in a crowded room and feel so alone. Thinking the people around me are so pathetic, and simple minded because they complain about kids, husbands, boyfriends, parents, siblings, friends, work, money, shoes, clothes, hair, nails, cars, bills, school, and on and on.
I sometimes go to work, sit in my car for ten minutes and think to myself, how in the fuck did I get here? Where the fuck am I? Am I who I really am? Should I be here? Will someone ever save me from myself? I need help! I need help?
I sometimes start an argument with people to draw them into me emotionally (mainly men) so that I can see and feel an emotion, because oddly, I can be very emotionless--thus the name Blase.
Then I noticed, sometimes, at night, I sit, rock myself back and forth and I cry.
Now I know the feeling my mom felt.
The feeling of having your mother stripped from you and this earth without a moment's notice, in an unjust and brutal fashion, without a goodbye, without preparation, just fucking GONE!
Now, picking up the pieces, and not knowing how. The feeling of not having the answers. Not having the guidance, not having that support, not knowing if you're doing the right thing. Not knowing if you're coming or going. She didn't have her mother to tell her, and I don't have my mom here to tell me.
It's an unexplained broken heart that can never be healed. No, my mom and I did not win the mother/daughter of the year title for Spokane, we had our shares of fights, arguments and so on. Sometimes I did not think she loved me, hell, even after she died, it took me years to realize that she did in fact love Lisa Queen.
Mother's know every follicle of hair, and every expression of their child's face. A mother, good or bad, knows the love they carry for each one of their children and holds a tender spot.
When a child loses that love from an absent mother, that child: no matter how much prayer, how much counseling, how much drugs, how much alcohol, how much superficial friendships and loves they encounter, THEY WILL NEVER HAVE THE LOVE OF THEIR MOTHER REPLACED OR REPAIRED.
Mom, you weren't crazy, you were heartbroken and no one or nothing could heal you. I am now feeling your pain. The pain of everyday without a mother, not just on Mother's Day.
Coming to you live and direct from the temple of Malisea Q. Gardner where she's sure, someone thinks she is also bipolar.
Sometimes, I would walk past her bedroom and she would be sitting on her bed just staring, rocking herself back and forth not saying anything, just rocking as if in a trance. I would stand in the hallway not sure if I should interrupt or should I ask if she was okay. Instead I would let her stay in the trance. Then, I would silently sit on the floor as I could hear her crying, thinking, I really need to call and get her some help because she was so crazy. I was convinced.
Maybe I should call my dad? No, she'd just cuss him out and further her craziness in his eyes, and he'd get mad at me for dragging him into her crazy world.
Maybe I should call my uncle, my mom's brother? Yeah he could help me figure out what to do? No, they would just go back and forth because for whatever reasons they didn't understand each other, and he wrote his sister off years ago.
Hell, maybe I can go get her a bottle of Alize, because that is her drink of choice and clearly she needs something and I don't know what to do.
Fuck it, I just have to live with a crazy mom. Hi, I'm Lisa, no you can't come over because often times my mom snaps out, goes into crying spells, cusses me and you out for no reason and is just crazy....can you handle that? No? Well neither can I....can I live with you?
Until 13 years later......
I find myself sitting in a crowded room and feel so alone. Thinking the people around me are so pathetic, and simple minded because they complain about kids, husbands, boyfriends, parents, siblings, friends, work, money, shoes, clothes, hair, nails, cars, bills, school, and on and on.
I sometimes go to work, sit in my car for ten minutes and think to myself, how in the fuck did I get here? Where the fuck am I? Am I who I really am? Should I be here? Will someone ever save me from myself? I need help! I need help?
I sometimes start an argument with people to draw them into me emotionally (mainly men) so that I can see and feel an emotion, because oddly, I can be very emotionless--thus the name Blase.
Then I noticed, sometimes, at night, I sit, rock myself back and forth and I cry.
Now I know the feeling my mom felt.
The feeling of having your mother stripped from you and this earth without a moment's notice, in an unjust and brutal fashion, without a goodbye, without preparation, just fucking GONE!
Now, picking up the pieces, and not knowing how. The feeling of not having the answers. Not having the guidance, not having that support, not knowing if you're doing the right thing. Not knowing if you're coming or going. She didn't have her mother to tell her, and I don't have my mom here to tell me.
It's an unexplained broken heart that can never be healed. No, my mom and I did not win the mother/daughter of the year title for Spokane, we had our shares of fights, arguments and so on. Sometimes I did not think she loved me, hell, even after she died, it took me years to realize that she did in fact love Lisa Queen.
Mother's know every follicle of hair, and every expression of their child's face. A mother, good or bad, knows the love they carry for each one of their children and holds a tender spot.
When a child loses that love from an absent mother, that child: no matter how much prayer, how much counseling, how much drugs, how much alcohol, how much superficial friendships and loves they encounter, THEY WILL NEVER HAVE THE LOVE OF THEIR MOTHER REPLACED OR REPAIRED.
Mom, you weren't crazy, you were heartbroken and no one or nothing could heal you. I am now feeling your pain. The pain of everyday without a mother, not just on Mother's Day.
I was wondering what the first thing to push me to tears this mother's day would be, congrats- you win. I appreciate your honesty, it's so powerful. I don't know the awful emptiness of not having a mother, but I recognize the feelings of fustration, powerlessness, lonliness and confusion as a child who doesn't know what to do. You are amazingly strong, so allow yourself moments of weakness.
ReplyDeleteThanks! I often feel like I am falling apart, when people around me tell me I am so strong. I think to myself "what do they see?" I just live everyday that I know how, and it's harder than it looks. Sorry to push you to tears, didn't mean too, sometimes my honesty has no filter on what it can do. Have a good day chica!
ReplyDeleteWOW!! Most people can't even be this honest. I applaud you for that because wheather you realize it or not, you are attempting to heal from all of what you experienced. I still have my mother but we just started having somewhat of a "normal" relationship within the last few years. She is emotionally damaged as well and I am getting healed from the emotional damage that she passed on to me. The ONLY one that can do that is GOD!! I had to learn the hard way. Once I started to accept and submit to Him, he began healing me by making me deal with hurt and revealing to me that I AM A CURSE BREAKER!! Ms. Lisa...so are you! Much love!!
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