'we all go a little mad sometimes'
Mommy Trashiest
My mother is the reigning queen of self-destruction and bad luck. Unfortunately, for her the shit is about to hit the fan. I’m worried about what’s going to happen to her but I can’t be her mother anymore. It is time for her to just fucking grow up now.
I’ve been her protector for as far back as I can remember. Hell, one of my very first memories is of me helping her stash her drug paraphernalia from my grandpa.
I also have several memories of going to the bar with her while she was on the prowl for her next boyfriend. I was about four years old then because she had just left her husband, Dennis, for beating me black and blue from shoulders to knees.1
One of the nights she took me with her to the bar we were playing pool with some guy. I was too short to see over the pool table, so he held me while I leaned over it. Mom was aiming and somehow mistook my eye for a pocket or something because the ball slammed right into my brow bone. I had a black eye for about 3 weeks.
Shortly after my eye healed from the billiard incident my mom and some guy were drunk off Harvey Wallbangers2 and she was playing a pocket knife game with me. The object of the game was for me to close my eyes as tight as I could and she would ‘act’ like she was going to cut my eye out.3 Well, her drunk ass must have forgotten that it was a game because she stabbed my eyelid; blood in the eye burns like hell.
Another one of my dear4 memories is when I intercepted a punt kick that my ex-step dad had intended to give her. I swear I flew about 8 feet across the room. Luckily, a wooden end table broke my fall and all I had to show for the event was a huge goose-egg on the back of my head. I was six years old. Mom always talked about how hard my head is; it’s a damned good thing I have a hard head or who knows what would have happened to me.
I could go on and on about times I’ve protected her or times she should have protected me, but that won’t accomplish anything except drudging up a lot of negative feelings I have about my mother.
My mother, in her current form, is toxic to me and my mental well-being. I’m at the end of my rope with her. Things have to change or she is going to be exiled from my life; that is all there is to it anymore. It is time to cut the strings.
On this day..
- A Great Day Out - 2008
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#4 written by bastet4792 3 years ago
Just found your site. First site that I have responded to in years. Keep your head up girl! Through all the BS and the hard times, this old lady can say she looks up to you in a way. You have alot of untapped strength in you (don't mean to sound all sappy, I am definitely not a lovey dovey one). Look at this huge accomplishment you have. You have put all this time and energy, sweat and tears, cock and balls (hee-hee!) into this web-site. You are reaching an audience and giving people hope. So through all your trials, tribulations, knock-outs and scars; you still prevail!!! (GD I sound like a cliche diary!) Anyways, best of luck to you and big thanks! -
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#7 written by Chan 3 years ago
I left home at 19 to move to another country because my mum pissed me off on a regular basis, but she never did anything *remotely* as bad as your mum did! So anyway, distance has helped and I have forgiven her, but I would never go back. I am quite happy here, far from her, I miss her at times, but then when I see her, I am reminded quick enough why I am not living closer to her. I love her, don't get me wrong, but I guess I love me more, and the only chance I had to have a better life was being far from her.
Sometimes, reading your postings, I wonder if surrounding yourself with people with such heavy problems/dramas isn't dragging you down…ever thought of leaving it all behind and starting again?
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#10 written by bastet4792 3 years ago
I have been in a very different circumstance than you. My family has all tried to understand my illness (bp) and gone to classes and support groups. While I love them for that they now think they have the answer for everything, but, when it comes to us, there is no specific pattern or predictability. Now on the other hand, My husband himself has yet to educate himself on anything ….his adoptive father is bp and he thinks he understands it all, where I think he should be open to understand that not a single one of us is alike. But I guess I can't complain when people have tried to get to know me and will always think they do (while still loving me in their own way). Sorry to rant just frustrated…..Girlfriend you still seem to be the light in my day whenever I read one of your postings whether it is negative, hopeful, or just simply you trying to live your life. Again thank you for making me feel like that there is a light, no matter how dim, at the end of this old ladies(soon to be 34) tunnel. I just wanna know, why is it so hard….I am bp, have anger issues and suffer from PTSD while my NEW doctor thinks I am also attention defecit. Must we always put a label on someone's mental instability. I would love to knock the stigma off of mine and say….yes I'm moody but, with the moods comes my creativity that I get paid a lot money for. You gotta love me and my mind no matter the stigma or inconsistencies. I'm just trying to find a happy medium…..have you? And if you have, can you give me some advice. Times like now, I become desperate and I know you don't the answer for me, just something that worked for you. I don't wanna go to the hospital (yet at least–non suicidal) I just need some outlets and some insight to those of you like myself. Again, I sound like a whiny bitch, but I am hurting and I thought some advice from you and your readers might help. Switcharoo……. THanks and peace and love on this joyful celebratory day!!!!!
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Bastet4792, I'm glad you like reading my posts – even the bad ones. BTW, you're not old yet, you have at least 30 years left before then.
I wish I could answer all your questions, but I can't. However, we have a few of the same diagnoses, which means I can definitely empathize with many things you're feeling when it comes to your mental health.
Stigma is a bitch, pure and simple. Granted, it is starting to dissipate due to the access to internet research and the education it can provide. Nevertheless, those of us living with a mental illness and our loved ones still have a lot of bullshit to put up with from people who are ignorant of the facts concerning mental illness.
I wish I could give you some advice, but I haven't found a happy medium yet. I have accepted my illness, but I haven't been able to get it stabilized yet. I think I am still in the throes of a mixed episode. However, I still try to fight bipolar disorder every day. I yearn for the day when my symptoms go into remission, until then I will keep on keeping on as best I can – and that is the best advice I can offer you right now.
Have you looked into a local support group? Group therapy has been a great help to me – well until I quit going. I think I'm going to find another group and start going soon.
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#13 written by Tallulah 3 years ago
I just read your story even though you wrote this last summer. All I can say is “WOW.”
I grew up in an abusive situation too but a little different. My folks drank, especially my mother who ended up dying of cirrhosis of the liver in 1987. She was more mentally cruel because of the booze. She had wanted all these kids but just couldn’t handle us. (She and my dad adopted the six or us.)
My dad used to beat the shit out of me with a belt buckle but that was usually when I did something really bad. Thinking back, if I would have showed school the bruises, I am sure he would have been arrested but that was something that was unheard of back in those days.
I had low self-esteem for years, thought I was stupid, picked out bad men, etc…, After I was raped back in the late 1970′s, my dad’s reaction was “you probably had it coming.” I know, sad. I spent a lot of time later on in therapy before being diagnosed with PTSD and bipolar. I also confronted my dad before he died about the way he treated me. It went in one ear and out the other, not to go into details about that but the point was, I got to confront him about how I felt after all those years. Had he lived, I probably would have said a whole lot more as I began to get better emotionally.
Have you ever confronted your folks about your shit, Jen? You’re a pretty ballsy gal so I am sure that you have said a few things. Would LOVE to be a fly on the wall for that one!
Somebody mentioned a support group. For me, they are not helpful as much as ‘one-on-one’ counseling was.
Best,
Tal -
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You broke my heart with your story – I have no words to help as you've probably heard all of them – but I will pray. Peace.