This is going to be the first of many blogs to help me get things off my chest, I need to learn to let go, possibly forgive, and move on, this needs to get done for my well being, and I am at a point that I need to try anything and everything to get me out of my negative head-space. I want to preface this by saying that I have great friends who I talk with, my life is an open book and I speak of my trials and tribulations all the time, my social worker says that I am not feeling my emotions when I speak, so this is an attempt to get some emotions out and try to feel my words.
My mother is a Hungarian born woman, and she has always been a little unstable, I think being pregnant with me may have made her worse. My mother suffered from what they called manic depression, which they now call bi-polar.
My father lived with her for a year, before they got married, and it was 4 years before they had me, in that 4 years, my dad realized that she wasn’t really stable, so he resigned himself to not actually having kids, even though he wanted to have a big family. My mother used to tell me that my dad didn’t want kids, and the reason she became pregnant was because of the birth control pill, at the time it was very strong so her doctor suggested going off it for a year after she was on it for 4 years, so apparently, I was conceived, on the first month of going back on the pill after having a year off. But this is only what I know from what I was told.
So anyway, I came along and in those days my mother and I stayed in the hospital for a week, so my dad decided it would be a good time to get a vasectomy. He told me later that he feared that his kids would turn out like her and have mental health issues.
Most of my early years, I have only to go off of what I know from aunts, uncles, my dad’s side, my mother’s side, so bear with me. When I was an infant, my mother was admitted into the hospital due to an episode – my family says it was a nervous breakdown, I think it may have been postpartum depression, anyway, I’m not exactly sure how long she was gone, but in my later years, when my dad’s side of the family would go on about how fat I was, my mother would tell me that it was my grandparents fault for feeding me every time I cried, while she was away. I do have pictures of her at my 1st birthday, but then I was told that she came out of the hospital around my second birthday, I don’t have pictures of her at my second birthday, so I can’t verify this. Between birth and 3, I know that she spent a lot of time in the hospital, and I basically lived with my grandparents, but I don’t know how much time, as there are many pictures with her in them at various times in the year, just not my second birthday.
My mother, from the time I could remember, wasn’t really a nice woman overall, she beat me with a wooden spoon, she dragged me home by my ear, this was probably pretty normal for the day and age, so I’m not really stuck on that, but on occasion, she would throw me, these were the times she wasn’t well. She mostly just yelled though, a lot. My mother, was sick, so when bad things happened, I was told my mother was sick.
When I was 5 years old, I was walking home from school, when one of the kids told me my mother was waiting with her car at the school, so I doubled back, and she asked me if I wanted to go to Disney Land, well what kid would say no to that, she had the car packed and we went to the airport, periodically, I would ask about my dad:
Me: “Is Daddy coming?”
Mother: “Of course, he will meet us at the airport.”
Me at the airport: “Where is Daddy?”
Mother: “He will meet us when we land.”
Me in California: “Where is Daddy?”
Mother: “He’ll be here tomorrow.”
You get the idea, and each day, I would ask, and she would tell me another lie. So when we got to California, we stayed with a friend of my mother’s, she was a Jehovah’s Witness, and she had a little girl, all I really remember is that this little girl was awful, she wouldn’t share her toys and she had tons of them, all over the floor, you couldn’t even walk in her room, but if I picked something up, she would rip it out of my hands and tell me it was hers and she was my age. We only stayed there for a night because the woman we were staying with and my mother fought, I don’t know why, my mother is unstable so that probably had the most to do with it. Also, my mother had no money, so after this, we took another cab to the ocean, and we slept on the beach for a few days, I can’t remember how many, but my dad says we were gone for about a week, and I remember being on the beach for a long time. One afternoon on the beach, my mother was napping, and one of those bicycle ice-cream guys went by, so I followed him, and talked to him, and followed him and talked to him, and followed him and talked to him, and he finally gave me an ice-cream and told me to go. Apparently, I was a little annoying, or maybe he was worried about my safety. Anyway, I made my way back to where my mother was, but she had woken up at this time, so she was panicked and looking for me when she spotted me coming towards her. She grabbed me, I dropped my ice-cream, and she started to hold my head in the ocean and kept telling me to never leave her again, after this was over, I was crying uncontrollably, and repeatedly asking for my father and asking to go home. I think she hit rock bottom, she called my father he wired money and we went home. My mother was admitted to the hospital again for around 4 months.
When I was 7, my mother was bathing me, and she was really nice, she told me that the circus was coming in a few months and that we should go, and I was very excited. I remember doing something, nothing really bad, but by accident, and holding my breath and waiting for her to get upset, I think I dropped the soap out of the tub, I remember the feeling overall but not the action, but she was incredibly nice, picked up the soap, or over looked what I had done, and it was such a great night, well, while we were in the bathroom, my aunt and uncle came. It was my mother’s sister and her husband. My aunt took over with me and helped me get dressed into my PJ’s and housecoat and asked if I wanted to play hide and go seek, I told her I wasn’t allowed outside after my shower, and she laughed and said that we were going to hide at her house. I was still a little concerned that my parents wouldn’t find me there, not because I was scared of my aunt, but that was a large boundary for hide and go seek. As she was opening the downstairs door to the outside, there was a struggle at the upstairs door, so she quickly closed the door and asked to see my playroom in the back of the house in the basement of the bungalow.
As it turns out, my mother was not well again, the wonderful person I wanted her to be, was how she was when she wasn’t well, and my father and uncle were taking her back to the hospital. I entered the hospital with my aunt, and we went through some doors looking for my dad, and in a hall to the right of me, there was my mother on a gurney, strapped down, and flailing like a mad woman. My aunt tried to shield me, she didn’t expect my mother to be there and pushed me back out the door we just came in. I lived with my aunt for the next 4 months. I was with a Brownie pack at the time and we had a trip to the circus, my mother was released from the hospital that day, and the first time I seen in her in 4 months was at that circus.
That was the last time my mother went to the hospital. Not that she was never unwell again, because she was, but she was pretty stable, and medicated till I was about 12. More to come about my pre-teen and teen years with my mother at another time.