My Mother

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.


13 thoughts on “My Mother

  1. Hey! 🙂

    I’m loving your blog (followed!) but I would also like to invite you to submit a short piece to my own. I think your perspective and style of writing would be a perfect piece for my project.

    It’d also be a great way to get your blog/writing out there.

    Please feel free to email me (jennifer@youngandtwenty) with more questions, or take a look at the ‘BEING Young & Twenty’ page on my blog.

    I hope I’ll hear from you 🙂


    Liked by 1 person

  2. When I first started blogging, I came to the realization I would need to dig deep and resolve some issue I still have. Trust me when I say there are going to come times when the pain just sneaks up on you . . . when think you have something dealt with, let go and moved on, only to find out you still have a LONG way to go! It will not be a walk in the park.

    But you know what? You are stronger than you know! You CAN work through the ‘stuff’ in your life. Know why? You are NOT alone! I have your back! We are each other’s support network. 🙂

    ❤ ❤

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I believe you when you say that, and believe me when I feel I have dealt with that, but I think I need to let more out, this is just the beginning, I’m going to try to get all this negative out so that I can get back to moving on and being positive. All my life I have heard – you are so strong – you’ve been through so much and you still have a smile – I couldn’t go through what you went through – well I don’t know what else to do but carry on…but at the same time I need to dig deeper, like you said, feel the weakness, own it, embrace it and I need to stop letting it define me. I don’t know what I really need – but I’m glad you have my back – because shits gonna get real and it’s gonna be hard, but I gotta get through this or it’s going to get through me.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Exactly. Facing the deep dark ugliness in our lives is no small feat.

        Know what’s crazy? Living through some really bad shit and not really being able to remember just how you survived. That’s what we did: survived. We put one foot in front of the other and did whatever it took.

        Think about this the next time you dint your strength: there are people who give up. There are people who do not have what it takes to survive. Some make the irreversible choice to end their life. Others walk away because it is easier than to stand and fight.

        You are a strong, intelligent and very beautiful woman inside AND out. NEVER let anyone tell you different . . . Including yourself!!


        Liked by 1 person

    1. Oh my God – I am seeing it in a totally different way. The survival may have been more mechanical than emotional, thank you for those kind words and this epiphany, maybe the social worker is right – I survived it but didn’t feel it. I tell it but mechanically not emotionally.

      I’m trying to be kinder to me, but I’m not there yet.

      Your words have just meant more to me than anything anyone has ever said – I thank you with all my heart, it’s as if I can see a little clearer now.

      You don’t know what this means to me.


      Liked by 1 person

      1. “Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.” It is OUR motto. In order for us to succeed, we have to step into the unknown (or delve into the deep, dark, ugly known as the case may be).

        But you know what? We CAN do this. Why? Because we are STRONG, AH-MAZE-ZING and BEAUTIFUL women!!


        Liked by 1 person

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