It's hard to believe that it's been three years today. I read the post I wrote a few days after her passing and realized that not many things have changed. I still feel like she broke me. I thought that there was a part of me that somehow was going to forget the hurt and the pain because she was my mom. Three years later, I think that that hurt is even more intense now than it was then. This year is hitting differently; it seems there is a deeper sense of loss, a different sadness that she disliked me so much. This is the first year that Everything Christmas is going up, and it feels really good. I am doing all the things that make me happy and highlight the season's spirit. With that comes looking through boxes of things that used to be hers and deciding what to do with them. Do I keep them, toss them, and ask the kids if it's something they want? I find it feels rather liberating to throw things away that are not me. I have filled the trash with broken things, things that we got together, and things that used to be ours. It feels good and gives me the energy to clean out things that no longer suit me or who I am.
I struggle to understand the depth of her hate for me. I wonder what that exact moment was when she decided I was no longer worthy of her love or being included in her life insurance. It felt like I was no longer her daughter, and that hurt the most. What moment was that in her mind to make my brother the sole beneficiary. Goodness, I couldn't care less about the money; it wasn't anything life-changing. For me, it was just reinforcement that I meant so little to her. Months before she passed away, she pretended like it was this huge secret. So after she passed, Chris mentioned it, and I said I already knew, and the look of shock on his face was something astonishing. In true mom fashion, it was about being between us and keeping secrets, trying to play us against each other. Amazing that even in her passing, there are times when I feel like she is still doing that. Not from my end but from my brother's and his inability to see things from anyone's viewpoint besides his own.
After her passing, my brother was very vocal, telling me to be careful with what I said and who was around. I wasn't allowed to share my feelings of relief, hurt, and alienation. Everyone was allowed their feeling, but since mine were different, my experiences were too intense and real for anyone to be able to hear them.
Even when I found the letter saying that my brother had been noted as the sole beneficiary, he could not understand the pain that that caused. I called him and left a message crying and received no response. He said he didn't know, but by connecting some of the dots, I believe he knew. Not to any fault of his own, but he knew. Even after he knew he could not see the other side of the coin. He talked about everyone who surrounded him, brought dinner, and gave him money. He talked about all those things, and I was on my own. He connected with all of her friends like he was once again the big hero. Such a crazy place to be and an incredibly difficult spot to be in. So much for me was reinforcement that I was worth little to her. And even though he had power of attorney, it was I who had to make the decision to stop the medicine that was keeping her alive. I was the one who had to stand there and see the line go flat and hold my children as she passed.
The other day, I realized all her messages had disappeared from my phone. During those last few days, I never got a response to the messages I sent her. Maybe she was too sick; I will never know. She was worried about some food subscriptions that she got. And I was pretty matter-of-fact and cold. When someone is sick and complaining all the time, it's hard to take things seriously. This, like all the rest, I did not take seriously. The text said that she was going to the emergency room and that she was going by ambulance. Then she didn't even tell me what hospital she was in; I was in a panic calling around. She was able to text and tell Vincent where she was. Since it was COVID, we were not allowed to see her, so all we had were texts. All I had was nothing, really. I can remember speaking to her Dr and he said her lungs looked like a snow storm, and I knew it was serious. The prior few days were conversations about how she couldn't wait to come home and be with the three of us. She didn't have nice things to say about my brother and said how she just wanted to be home. At this point, looking back, it is unbelievably sad just how many faces she had. It depended on who you were and what face you would get. I talked about it last week, and it's like looking at that picture with your nose to the painting. You are not going to get a clear view of all these things. As I step back, more and more things become clear, and I am able to see so much more of the picture. Maybe that is the part that affects me so much. When I am able to step back and see things as they were, it breaks my heart even more.
So today, it has been three years, and my heart is still broken. For the mom I didn't have, for the support I never received, and that I was made to be the villain in her story. But at the same time, I am clearing out and making room for things that make my heart happy. My brother still refuses to speak to me because of a conversation with my cousin. He chose to listen to someone else rather than speak to me and hear my heart. I talked about my thoughts and feelings. The cousin thought it was his job to tell my brother how not ok things were, and in the process, my brother decided I wasn't worth speaking to either. Anyway, you look at it; I am the one who was left hurt. I even tried telling my brother those were his opinions. I didn't and don't care about the money. The entire issue was the hurtfulness of not being included, and he could never understand that. I still don't know what my cousin said, but the damage that his words caused was great. I sent messages and tried to reach out for over a year, but with no response, I was tired of getting nothing in return, and I just stopped sending messages. I spent so much energy and then wondered if I would get a response. I was no longer willing to do that anymore. The ball is in his court. He had to figure things out; he didn't really like the person that I was and thought he knew all about me, but really, he didn't have a clue about the person I was. He constantly commented about who he thought I was, and I would remind him that wasn't who I was at all. What he knew of me were things my mother told him; he chose to believe. We live on two totally different planets in different universes, and for now, that has to be.
So that leaves me. 1095 days ago, my world changed. my mother passed away, and it was the biggest relief I could have ever had. Many people don't understand that, and many never will. This is my story and my truth, and they don't have to. My mother hurt me more than words and failed to protect me in so many ways. She made me the villain of her story because she didn't understand who I was or how I got that way. She never listened to my heart or heard what I could not say. There is that saying that basically says you don't get to treat me like shit and then complain about how I respond. The quote I am thinking of says it so much better, but it means the same thing. There is another quote: Nobody apologized for how they treated me; they just blamed me for how I reacted. I was never understood. I am not the bad guy. I am a terribly hurt daughter who was treated in many unkind ways and who is finally finding her way in this world. I can not make this day anything other than what it is, I can not change the facts. All there is to do now is move on and become the person I have so desperately wanted to become. All there is for me is to hold my head high and make all my dreams come true in spite of everything. I don't have a mom, but I didn't have a mom even when she was here. The sad thing that I face is all the things that were missed out on because she was unable to be present for me. It was a few weeks before she passed, and she came into my room wanting to take a trip with me. The kids' senior year of high school, and she didn't see an issue leaving them home alone. I had no desire at all to go anywhere with her and wondered where this came from. Her presence in my room was not welcomed, and it felt like she was an intruder in my space. Just as she would always look at me, there was this stare, this blank look of disapproval, no matter what I was doing.
I have to believe that there was a time when she loved me just because I was hers. I have to believe that there was a time when I meant everything I have always dreamed of to her. Maybe someday, all that she did or didn't do won't hurt so much. This year, this day, it does hurt, and my heart is tender. I don't have a mom, and I don't have someone who loves me unconditionally, no matter what. I will make it through, strong and brave, because that is what I do. I will make it through this day knowing that I am moving in the right direction because I am the person that I have chosen to become. Wherever she is, I hope she knows how she was loved and how hard I tried to make things work and to make her happy. She will always be my mom, and I loved her so much. But I was unwilling to lessen myself to stay who she thought I should be.
I heart your heart.
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