Losing the Woman I Never Really Knew -- My Mother

My mother left when I was 7.  Packed her bags and left.  No goodbye.  No explanation.  Just gone. I was too young to understand, I just knew that all of a sudden I was set apart from my classmates.  I was an oddity. I only had one parent.  My mother had left.  In a community where parents stayed married to each other through good times and bad, a mother leaving her children was unheard of.  Kids can be cruel, and when someone is suddenly perceived as different things can get really ugly. I was taunted and called bad names. I was ridiculed. I was an outcast for being different.  I got in fights and I acted out. I withdrew.  I finally learned to ignore and grow a thick skin. I blocked a lot of it out.  I don’t have a lot of real vivid memories from that time in my life.  The mind is a wonderful thing, and when the pain and hurt becomes too intense, it shuts down and starts to suppress the bad memories and only leaves behind pieces of what is bearable.

From time to time a letter would come in the mail from my mother or she would infrequently come back for a quick surprise visit.  I used to day dream about the day she would come back for good or she would come back and take me away with her. I used to hope she would just show up at one of my school functions surprising me – proving for once and for all that she did exist and that she did want me.   It never happened.  I finally quit dreaming.

I spent my childhood and young adult years listening to my older siblings talk about their memories of our mom and I was jealous. I heard stories about a woman who played with them, did crafts with them, built dollhouses and sewed doll clothes.  I heard stories of her teaching them to ride horses and the pony shows she used to organize for them and the children who lived up the street. I heard stories of day trips and wonderful adventures.  They talked of swimming and hiking and picnics.  I heard stories of a fun loving, energetic, happy woman and my heart squeezed shut because I never knew her. To me she was a stranger. On the rare occasions when we were all together with my mother, my sisters always had plenty to talk about with her.  I always felt like I was the stranger in the group, the outsider, the one who didn't belong. I felt shut out and excluded. They talked of times I knew nothing about.  All I could do was listen and watch and wonder what was wrong with me, why did I have to be the odd one out? 

As I got older, I tried to forge a relationship with her.  It always seemed that as soon as I had established some type of rapport with her, then she would make a decision that would lead to her being unavailable to me again.  This happened time and again.  Each time it hurt a little more. I felt abandoned again and again.  But I kept trying. 

 

Now my mother is elderly.  And sick.  Her mind is failing her.  Her health is rapidly declining and as I write this she is hospitalized and the outlook is not promising.  There is a real possibility that this is the end for her.  And I don’t know how I feel.  It is almost as if I am losing something I never really had. And yet I still hurt.  Her passing will affect my brother and my sisters deeply.  I feel sadness and compassion for them, for they are losing their Mom. My heart aches especially for my brother who has spent the most time with her and who has tenderly cared for her and seen to her everyday needs these last few years.  My heart hurts for each of my sisters who have such fond memories of the mother she used be. I wish that there was something that I could say or do to ease their pain and make this heartache easier for them to bear.

Mostly though, my heart aches for the little girl who needed her mother and never had her. 


PS - 3/19/2013 -   My Mother died on March 3, 2013 (on what would have been my Dad's 86th birthday) at the age of 78 in a hospital in Hemet, California.  My brother, Fr. Francis and one of my sister's, Anne Marie, were with her.  

The Dark Night of the Soul

 Sometimes it sneaks up on you.  Little by little, slowly seeping in. Covering every inch, every pore, and every bit of your being. Settling in like a heavy, wet, unwanted blanket.  Shutting out all the light. Until there is only a dull grey left.  That is if you are lucky.  Sometimes it ALL turns to black. Or it can come slamming down like the curtain on a bad play. Wham. Darkness. Overwhelming sadness.  Unshakable, unforgiving, all consuming.  No rhyme or reason.  It could be brought on by a memory, a phone call, a passage in a book, a look, a conversation, something that happened or didn't happen. It happens because of something or nothing at all. Sometimes it catches you unaware, and other times it creeps upon you -  slow, agonizing, deliberate, unrelenting. You know its happening, but you can't stop its progression.  It hurts.  It hinders.  It suffocates.  It overwhelms. It sucks the very life out of you. It takes away the joy, the ambition, the drive, the desire.  It steals minutes, hours, or sometimes days from your life. Precious time you can’t recover.  You know this somewhere deep inside and yet you are at a loss as to how to shake its vice-like grip. It’s like swimming in the ocean and getting caught in a rip-tide current.  It sucks you under, steals your strength, takes away your will to breath, and saps your energy until you are at the mercy of the current.... sweeping you out, deeper and deeper. Darker and darker. When you are caught in its grip -  it seems unending.

Life’s demands make it impossible to curl in a tight ball in a dark corner and shut out the world. Getting out of bed is agony. Muscles hurt for no reason.  Taunt, tight, they resist stretching.  Joints ache.  The weight is almost too much to carry.  The despair is there, lurking under the surface, threatening to bubble up and take over. Wave after wave, you force it back down, trying to force a retreat. You struggle to go about your day, do your job, be a wife, a mother, a therapist, a friend, a helper, a consoler, a confidant, a teacher, a business owner, a mentor, a daughter, a cheerleader, a sister, a fan, a cook, a maid, a help-mate.  It’s not easy, putting on the mask and trying to make other’s believe everything is ok.  It’s an energy sapping, mind numbing minute by minute struggle. Somehow you manage to carry on. To smile. To talk. To pretend that everything is ok. 

Until finally, eventually, somehow it is ok.  Little by little it recedes again.  The sun shines and joy returns. The darkness is just a distant, haunting memory. But haunt you it does.  Because you know it will return.  You just don’t know when or why or how.  All you can do is hope and pray and try to build up your defenses for the next time it comes.  Hoping that it won’t break you next time either. 

The Dark Night of the Soul. The Blues. A state of Sadness. Feeling Blah. Heaviness of Heart. Melancholy. Depression. Whatever you want to call it..... It hurts.  It weakens you.  It wounds the spirit. Sucks the life out of your soul. It makes you ache and lose hope. Depression is real.  Dealing with it is a constant battle. One must stay vigilant in the fight, so that it doesn't overtake you and make you want to do the unthinkable. You must keep telling yourself that this too shall pass. The sun will shine again.  Life will be beautiful and worth living again.  The bad will pass and goodness will once again reign. You will make it.  You will be OK. Your sorrow will not be in vain.  The fight will be worth it. You have God’s eternal promise.  

Isaiah 41:10 – So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

 James 1:12 -- Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him.

Picking up Pieces

I have begun to pick up the pieces of my life.  Looking back over the last year, it is hard for me to believe that I have not written anything. But then its not so hard to believe.  Writing had become an outlet.  But then I got so clogged up that I couldn't get it out. There was too much.  There is always too much. It takes a certain amount of faith to bare the soul and let it out.  It takes faith to believe that writing about and sharing your daily struggles may help someone else that is also struggling. (And isn't that part of our mission on this Earth? To care for and help one another?) It takes faith to believe that you may add a small beacon of hope in an otherwise desolate world. It takes faith to bare the soul and not expect and experience a whiplash of criticism, harsh words, holier than thou attitudes, and degrading comments. It takes faith to tell of one's shortcomings and failures. It takes faith to be able to laugh and find humor in the worst of circumstances.  I had lost that faith. I don't know that I will ever fully get it back.

I thought losing my anchor - My Daddy - was the worst that could happen.   I thought that losing him would become my undoing.  I have been floating aimlessly with no real direction.  My Dad always managed to ground me and bring me back to what was really important. Without him, I have been lost.  I miss him with an ache that is always present. I have tried to drown that ache. I thought if I quit writing, quit talking, quit thinking that it would get better.  It hasn't.   My marriage, my family, my husband, my children have all suffered while I turned inward. I thought not acknowledging my feelings and my sense of abandonment would help.  It hasn't.  I thought that if I put up walls and pretended that all was well that things would get better.  They didn't.  I thought if I ignored what was crumbling around me that it would stop.  It didn't.  I thought that with enough passage of time that things somehow, someway would magically  improve.  They didn't.  I lost my faith and my belief that I could make it.  I don't know that I will ever fully get it back.

It all comes down to faith.  That is the core of my being.  Having faith.  But I have never been a passive have faith kinda gal.  I've always forced the issue.  Brought things to a head.  Made it happen.  Bulldozed right on through.  I finally figured out that no amount of hiding, drowning, ignoring, wishing it away, pretending it didn't exist,or running away was going to make all the problems and heartache disappear.  While having faith that in the end everything would indeed be OK, I knew that I had to face harsh reality head on, embrace the brokenness, and start to pick up the pieces. I had to accept and deal with shortcomings, my own and others.  I had to realize that I had a choice and it was a now or never kind of situation.  Too many precious souls were counting on me, needed me.

So I am picking up the pieces.  They won't all fit back exactly how they fell apart.  Some pieces will never fit again.  Some will fit better then ever. Some pieces will come together easily and others will take time and effort.  It is a daily journey. A daily choice. A daily struggle. A daily duty. A daily Joy.  A daily walk of Faith.

A Mother's tears, a Mother's Prayer

You can't be a mother and not shed tears.  You can't be a mother and not pray.  The two go hand and hand.

the tears of labor pains -- the prayer - please God let this end soon, please let my child be healthy.

the tears on the First day of School  -- the prayer - dear Lord please be with them today.

the tears as they get their licence and head up the road the first time without you -- the prayer -  Please God let them be safe from their own stupidity and that of others!

the tears when they come home from school and have had a bad day -- the prayer -- Lord help my child learn to forgive and to treat others as they wish to be treated.

the tears when a sports injury occurs -- the prayer - Please God don't let it be serious, please ease the pain, please Lord let them get up off the field.

A mother teaches her child right from wrong and when the child chooses to do wrong instead of right, a mothers heart breaks a bit and she prays -- Lord help my child remember the lessons, help them do good, help them to do right.

The tears when you get that late night phone call from the Dean of Students – the prayer -- Lord be with my child since I can’t be there in person, in their stupidness and moments of weakness and poor judgment  Lord, please don’t desert them.

The tears on the night the cops bring your son home – the prayer -- Lord take the anger, take the brokenness and bring about good from this Lord.

Speeding tickets, bad grades, sullen defiant moods, slamming doors, uncontrolled anger, lying, shouting, running away, the silent treatment  – the prayer -- Lord help us all get through this to better days, help me be understanding Lord, help me to help them, Help us all Lord.

Tears in times of sickness and sleepless nights -- Lord please heal my child. Please restore them to the fullness of health.

Tears fall late at night as a mother lays awake with troubled thoughts – the prayer -- please Lord let this be a lesson learned, give me strength Lord, give me wisdom, give me patience, give me a forgiving love like Yours. Help me to help them Lord. Forsake us not, Lord

As things escalate and get worse, the only saving thought – it could always be worse –the prayer -- Please Lord let this be our worse.

A Mother prays without ceasing for her child/ren , before they are even born, from the first moment she knows God has entrusted a precious soul into her care, she prays.  In good times and bad, she prays.  In their triumphs and their sorrows, she cries and she prays.  In the darkest moments when things are blackest, a mothers clings to hope and her faithful prayers.  As tears fall, she holds fast to the promise “Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it” (Proverbs 22:6) -- The prayer – Let it be as You have promised Lord, please let it be.