Saturday, April 7, 2012

Enmeshed and Engulfed.

I shouldn't feel sorry for my mother. Though sometimes I do. 
She lives like a bat in a shuttered house. Her television stays on 24/7 whether she is sleeping or not.  Her only outside contact is her knifing one friend to another on the telephone.
 She won't drink milk and gets so little sun her doctors prescribe her vitamin d. Which she refuses to take.  She thinks checking her blood levels is a scam by her doctors to get money from her insurance. Although she allows them to draw blood. Over and over. And she fills her prescriptions. She just won't take the med's. So they can't titrate the dose and bring up her blood levels. That's how crazy she is. 
When I first went no contact, I sent my sister the link to this video and joked about how this is what it was like to live with her. She has been lining both of us up like a pool shot for years to be the one who would take care of her when she was too old to care for herself. Her problem was that she can't trust the hearts of others. Not when she knows how black her own heart is. 
So she always hedged her bets. It wasn't enough to trust us to have a sense of decency and commitment to family. She had to chisel away at the relationships in our lives. Always trying to isolate us from spouses and friends with god awful lie's about what ever flew into her mind at that moment. 
Maybe that worked on people in the last century. But people are a bit more free thinking now days. So her single minded determination to drive wedges between us all got her no where fast. Even then I hung in there with her. Instead of trusting me to do the right thing she just stepped up her onslaught of bull shit until it drove me screaming out the door. 
I feel sorry for her. Not because every thing she did in her life was leading to this existence. Because this kind of life was a goal for her. To lay in bed in a house coat and do nothing is her glorious achievement.The culmination of manipulating every single person her whole life through with out ever  performing any real work. 
So she can lay in bed and molder.


Anonymous said...

In view of the fact she spent the vast part of her earlier years laying on her back in bed/beds of "pick-'em-up" trucks and various and assorted and sordid arrangements and assignations I do believe she's in her "preferred position." I have no doubt she is very comfortable in her "cocoon" and is apparently still wired enough (via the phone) to stir up all kinds of drama and chaos among others. Thus, her Daily Dose of Drama is far more important than the bones that are collapsing under the weight of her choices.
Mine are collapsing under the weight of a healthy diet for years, exercise and skinny ass undiagnosed for oh, about 30 yrs. hyperthyroidism. Which just sucks calcium. Oh, and did I mention genes? And let's not forget about being a child in the "Nucler Age:" (George Dobaya) In the '50's if your kid gets sick and it's inconvenient, why just bring that little one here and we'll RADIATE their throat. It doesn't hurt a bit. And if THAT doesn't "fix it" well, we'll just yank their tonsils. The Cold War created all kinds of scientific advancements, including hospitals with 3/4/5/6 yr. olds who were given "perfume" and woke up with the worst sore throats they EVER had.
Until the long term effects put you in the same category as the Hiroshima survivors who were a distance from "Ground Zero."

I'm a Cadaver Doner. If some medical student ends up with this mess of missing organs in their Human Dissection course, they're gonna be asking for a refund. In the mean time, The Barbarian is "protecting" her skin from the harmful effects of the sun which of course we need to produce provitamin D. And she's happy and comfy. This whole fill-the-script-but-don't-take-it? Passive-Aggressive bull shit and CYA.

Tundra Woman's "Rules of Life" #2: When ya do what ya did, ya get what ya got. (Including herpes, shit-for-bones, and adult kids who would rather cont(r)act Ebola than YOU.)

q1605 said...

My mother takes the medications that count, like coumadin for her A-fib, but she won't take what she doesn't want to take.
I've been around the block in a lot nefarious ways. But when it comes up, I don't act like I am the Pope of Dallas Texas and am so far removed from sin that I am appalled that anyone even suggests I may have been less than a model citizen.
That's the nauseating thing about her. Listening to some bitch call a woman a slut who hasn't turned a man down since Truman defeated Dewey.
I hope some Mandingo breaks her hip.

q1605 said...

Hey cadaver donor. I just got the latest Discover mag in the mail today. Check out the article called The Beating Heart Donors. Then Google (UDDA)
That's the uniform determination of death act.
I am pretty sure if this afternoon's nap had been attended by a physician I would have been coded and donated.
Just a head's up.

Lisa said...

My mom has been simultaneously trying to throw me away and eat me alive since I was born. Want to bat you out of the universe but then they want to eat you up. You are a piece of shit and you are theirs forever and ever. They hate you so much and can't stand being with you that the only thing that keeps you around is the fact they hate the idea of not getting to abuse you all for themselves more.

That's funny, my mom always donned on an outfit like a beekeeper to go out to the yard to water plants. I can see her now with a baseball cap (which she'd never wear otherwise), with a hoodie pulled over, with the collar of her shirt pulled up over her mouth. She also hated the wind and other such inconveniences of the universe. She's allergic to most of it. She hates the universe cause it messes up her hair.

Anonymous said...

Thanks for that. I'll just train the cat to dial 911 because I have no intention of doing it myself. Don't we all want to die at home?!
Yep, broken hips are often the beginning of the end. Hope The Barbarian has a few throw-rugs around so she can go on the ultimate "Magic Carpet Ride."

q1605 said...

God Lisa. The more they are different, the more they are alike. If you can find a picture of my mother outdoors she is holding a scarf around her hair and squinting at the camera like a nuke was just detonated and she is trying to not be blinded.