I never felt scared to speak to anyone. I am not a fighter and one who enjoys to argue, but I have always found a way to address what needs to be addressed. I have always stood up for what was right, even if consequences were attached in doing so. I stood for justice, for solving problems and clearing the air, instead of going to bed angry. This is not so the case with Mom, and Mom to me, has always been that strong, independent woman who hides the emotions behind a tough facade. Even making her smile occasionally is something that sneaks over her face, it’s almost unwanted, quick and foreign as if it was coaxed out of her against her will, something that is not meant to be detected. I usually call her on it in a joking way and in the hopes that she will get used to it and deem it ok. I’ve waited all my life for the curtain to fall and for her to allow me into her world, to feel comfortable and safe. It never happened and no adult conversation ever took place. No Mother-Daughter talk has ever crossed our lips and I don’t even know how to talk to her. She doesn’t see me as an adult or as a grown woman and I will always be that ten year old child I was at the time of my fathers death, who doesn’t know a thing.
What lies ahead are many tough decisions that will require a lot of conversations. It almost seems impossible to me right now, and I can’t imagine her changing her ways in any form or style. I have tried talking to her over decades by now, and she doesn’t consider any other opinion than her own. She never had to, and she is used to being on her own and doing what she wants. The time is not in her favor anymore and she needs help. In order to receive help she needs to listen sometimes, maybe be open to suggestions and consider a different view. I’m not sure if she can and I already know it’s not going to happen, although I want to remain positive. My intuition says otherwise, and I know my gut feeling is right. I’m not going to change her anymore and I will have to be firm, removing most choices and just action things if she likes it or not. I know it won’t earn me any love or brownie points, but I won’t be able to just sit back and watch her demise either. If that what she expects, than I don’t need to be in Germany.
I have tried letters before, pleating my case while leaving my heart on my sleeve. I opened up and shared things with her, it only came back to haunt me later on as she would use this information against me. To the letters itself, an answer never came, nor did an acknowledgement. Nothing, even after I asked if she received the letters, she simply said yes and that was the end. There was no input and nothing to say at all on her part. If I persisted to talk, and my opinions were different than hers, she couldn’t accept it and it resulted in more resentment towards me. All talking would cease and I was non existent until she finally would declare it time to lower the guards and let me back in to tip toe around her in an effort to not offend her again.
I want to go home and try to help her, to respect her wishes and treat her as a responsible adult, but I don’t have the time for those kind of games and acting as if you are some spoiled brat. How old are we to behave like this? I’m not sure how I will get her passed it, but she is not making good decisions right now. I understand that she wants to stay at home, in her house, but she needs 24 hours care and even when I get home, I don’t feel like I can provide the care she needs in order to be well. Somehow I know that it will come down to one question, and that is whether she wants to live or not. It will be the last nail in the coffin and she might as well throw me out or disown me again. It’s always a last attempt, a last resort and threat that sadly has no leverage over me, other than to break my heart. I just can’t see that being right and having it all her way is more important than a relationship with her daughter. I don’t understand how this could ever mean more and how it is even possible. I challenge what feeling there are, if she has any and at 50+ years, I can’t help but wonder if I was a wanted child. Mom says it’s my turn to take care of her since she cared for me as a child. Isn’t that what you do when you want and have children? I felt like an accident over the past few weeks, someone who wasn’t wanted and perhaps it would justify the resentment. Mom even said before that she wouldn’t have had a child had she known that my Dad would pass so soon. It hurt then and it still hurts now. It makes me feel like I was a mistake, but it also motivates me to prove that I wasn’t, that I achieved much in my life, that there is purpose and that there are people who do care for me through beautiful friendships and love. Even if she will never admit to it, I will always know that she knows and that will have to do. I know what lies ahead will require many tough talks and I don’t have a good feeling about any of them.
The other day I caught myself talking in the car, aloud, and I have done it several times by now. Mom has been on my mind non stop in my mental preparations of going to Germany. Easily a thought of what surely is to come pops into my head out of the blue. What follows is a dialogue, spoken out words on my part, words directed at Mom as if I’m in conversation with her. I’m pleading and defending my character. I frantically try to justify and explain myself, but I never win. There will be no winners in this case and all always ends with her getting upset, telling me to pack up and leave again while nothing is ever resolved. The past replays in my mind as I drive along the highway, begging Mom to understand my side. I hold on to the hopes that some word can shine through to let her know that I’m not the enemy. I only mean well for her and I want to help. Why can’t she allow me? She might realize that it would bring me satisfaction, perhaps some closure if I could help. I’m not granted the opportunity and instead her focus is on the action of me who left her behind and alone. I shall suffer for it alone in the darkness of a nights cold. This is so powerful that it has robbed her of any loving feelings she might have had for me at one point. It’s stronger than me and it requires her want to change this. I don’t think that I can ever turn this around or make it undone, but I will have to find the courage to speak and respect her wishes thereof. Maybe none of this is true, but how would I ever know if all remains unspoken.