My Mothers Mess

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Just someone trying to work through the mess my mother left behind in my mind.

  • Still Figuring Out My Process

    I am still trying to figure out how to sort all this out. Exactly how to process the first 40 years of my life.

    Do I work it out in chapters, like: Year one…. Or do I sort it out by charters in my life… My mom… My dad… Or by events?

    I am not sure what I have committed myself to, by deciding to heal myself. It sure would be easier to just curl up into a ball and avoid everything… But I will continue to go to therapy each week, and I will write everything down and just try and process it and let it all go.

    I just want to be free of that hold my mother has on me.

    So if you have any tips…

     

  • The Journey Begins

    The Journey Begins

    Thanks for joining me as I stumble around trying to clean up the emotions and confusion my mothers dysfunction has left in my life.

    I know what and who I am NOT, but it is time for me to figure out what and who I AM.

    I am not a professional blogger, I am literally a regular (if there is such a thing) person, who is just trying to sort though my life up to now, and undo and fix the mess my mother has left behind. There may be spelling errors, or things that don’t make sense right now. This is a process, and I am going to do my best to make sure the last half of my life, is not like the first. Its accountability time, and from this moment forward I can blame no one but myself for how my life goes. I will not be my mothers victim, I will not be her fathers victim by default, and not let her remain in any kind of control of my life.

    My “family” may not agree with my method of healing, but quite frankly…

    Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton

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  • 30 Years of Love: My Grandmother, My Constant, and The Peace I Found

    30 Years of Love: My Grandmother, My Constant, and The Peace I Found

    For three decades, my life has been interwoven with the care of my grandmother. It’s been a marathon of love, commitment, and a bond that runs deeper than I can easily put into words.

    When I was a kid, she was my safe person. My constant. She was the stable, loving grown-up who made the world feel okay. She gave me the unwavering love that formed the foundation of who I am today.

    As I grew into an adult, her role in my life didn’t shrink; it shifted, remaining just as vital. When I was gripped by panic, she’d walk right up to me and simply be there. When I was exhausted, she cared for my own children so I could finally rest. And in one of my darkest times—a nervous breakdown that left me immobile on my couch for seven days—she was the one who called the ambulance and got me the help I desperately needed. She was, in every sense of the word, my ultimate support system.

    A Promise Kept

    It’s true that the burden of her care has, for the most part, fallen on my shoulders. While her own daughters have stepped in for a few months here and there, the vast majority of the time has been mine. And honestly, I’m okay with that.

    I believe in the old idea of reciprocity: our parents pour into us, and in their final years, we return that care and devotion. For all intents and purposes, she was my parent. She gave me stability, comfort, and unconditional love. Now, as she navigates her final chapter, it is my privilege to be her rock, just as she was mine.

    The Intensifying Challenges

    Today, at a very old , life can be challenging for her. She is dealing with numerous physical and neurological conditions that bring their own difficulties, both for her and for me as her primary caregiver. Her needs have gotten greater and her patience leaner.

    Just the other day, she told the physical therapist to leave and demanded my -year-old daughter (a CNA) put her back to bed and leave. Later, she called my estranged mother to complain about some boxes that hadn’t been dealt with—mind you, she had just thrown a fit and made everyone who was there to help leave.

    My mother, seizing the chance to interfere, sent my stepfather down to “help.” When I realized what had happened, I knew I had to call her. I didn’t want to, but I needed her to understand that we are in a process—an assessment to see if Granny can handle living alone or if she needs to move to assisted living—and they could not interfere.

    The Shocking Gift of Truth

    Her response SHOCKED me. It shouldn’t have, but hearing the words come out of her mouth was both insane and something I didn’t realize I desperately needed to hear.

    She said she had “honestly” figured I was just leaving my granny to live in filth and piss and didn’t care.

    Are you kidding me?

    To hear how she really feels about me, without the usual “oh, I would never think you would do that” bullshit, was WILD. I have been trying to “impress” my mother and “earn” her love and respect my whole life, and this is what you think of me?

    That I would ignore another human’s needs, especially the human who picked up the broken pieces of me that my mother created, every single time she saw me healing?

    Eff you.

    In that one awful, truthful statement, she gave me a gift. The illusion was shattered. I no longer have to try. I am now so content to leave that relationship in the past. The peace I feel is amazing.

    My loyalty remains with the woman who truly parented me. My focus is entirely on her care, her needs, and the love we share. Everything else is simply noise.

    If you’ve navigated a similar situation, where your caregiving journey led to a moment of clarity about another relationship, I’d love to hear your story in the comments.

  • More Than Just Bulk Buys: The Emotional Weight of My Own Costco Card

    I finally did it. After years of riding on the coattails (or rather, the membership) of my mother’s Costco card, I made the executive decision: it was time for my own. This might sound like a trivial adulting milestone for most, but for me, it felt monumental. It felt like the final, tangible snip of an invisible cord connecting us.

    As I walked the familiar aisles of the Bellingham Costco with my husband, my new, shiny card clutched in my hand, I confessed to him, “This almost feels like a divorce.” There was a strange duality to the feeling: a sense of newfound independence and a quiet pride in taking this step. But beneath that, a gnawing anxiety. A fear that once my mother discovered I’d removed myself from her membership, it would be the final nail in the coffin of our already strained relationship. That perhaps, we would never speak again.

    And then, as if summoned by my very thoughts, just three aisles down amidst towering pallets of paper towels and oversized snacks, there they were: my mother and my aunt. The air instantly thickened. It was, without exaggeration, one of the most awkward and uncomfortable encounters of my life. The unspoken words hung heavy between us, a stark contrast to the bustling energy of the store.

    The sadness that washed over me was profound. I couldn’t help but reflect on what that moment should have been. If I, as a mother, were to unexpectedly run into my own daughter after two months of silence, my instinct would be to embrace her tightly. I would ask what was wrong, what hurt, and how we could fix it. My heart would ache to mend the rift.

    But with my mother, it’s different. She’s simply not capable—at least not outwardly—of showing that kind of care or acknowledging the emotional impact of her actions on me. In that moment, surrounded by the abundance of Costco, I felt utterly alone and profoundly lonely.

    It’s a really hard feeling to articulate, this deep yearning for connection. To come from a large family, yet constantly feel this void, this absence of true familial embrace. You spend a lifetime wanting to be part of something, to feel that inherent warmth and belonging that seems to come so easily to others. But when the connection simply isn’t there, even the simplest acts, like getting your own membership card, can become loaded with unexpected emotional weight.

    That day at Costco was more than just a shopping trip. It was a stark reminder of the complex, often painful, landscape of family dynamics, and the quiet strength it takes to navigate independence when it means severing threads you never truly wanted to let go of.

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  • Just another day with no real update.

    I always have the intent to update this regularly, I don’t know if it is laziness, business, or fear of hurting someone’s or myself, feelings.

    Maybe I will start my days with a diary type update? or ends my days with one.. Who knows. I am in such a funk right now.. Trust issues arising, self worth issues, I don’t even know.

    The last 2 weeks has been hard and sucks!!

  • 10/26/2020

    I haven’t been very good at posting. It’s not that I’m not still healing, but maybe just still so overwhelmed and cautious to do or say the wrong thing.

    Life is just so different then it was when I started this blog/ healing journey.

    Covid. Work. Homeschool. Preschool. Errands. Family. Friends. Doctors. Therapy. Nothing is the same. – maybe that’ll be a good start. I can get into each one of those…

    ….. After my grandmother’s mammogram tho!

    Happy Monday! – whos making dinner tonight?

  • The hurt never changes

    I Always seem to fall right back into the patterns that destroy me.

    One day I will learn.

    One day the longing for that relationship will subside and I will feel like I am enough, without the need for parental acceptance.

    I was so close.

  • Social Isolation .. Day 6’ish

    Man life has seemed to change so rapidly. Where do I even start?

    In the last 2 weeks, I have started back a relationship with my mother, started an anti-anxiety medication, and our whole world seems to have gone to shit.

    I had been hearing about the carnivorous here and there, didn’t think to much of it, honestly, just thought it was something that was happening some where else.
    Then last Thursday I looked at the kids school web site, it said ” there will be a regular school day on Friday” Huh??? Of course there would be.. why wouldn’t there be?? The answer.. Covid-19 !

    I had been mostly distancing myself for the week before, I hear it was a couple counties away. But Friday.. .Life for all of us changed.  It was announced that the kids would be out of school until April 24th. thats 6 weeks.. SIX WEEKS.. This must be serious. We are supposed to social distance until then. Only go out for essentials, and keep 6 feet from others. People are not listening, and I feel its to late. I am concerned how this is going to turn out.

    Then we had confirmed cases in our town, then 4, then 7, then 10, 14, and on. One death.. two deaths.. Shit got really fricking real.

    So many conflicting things to look for.. cough and fever.. No runny nose.. No sore throat… I have no idea what I am supposed to be watching for. Is it just elderly? No, its everyone.. I still dont know. Its people with compromised immune systems… Do I have an underlying condition I dont know about?

    My nose is stuffy, runny, I have a lump in my throat, I am watching my breaths. Should I be panicking? T keeps coughing… I cant panic, I started taking medication to keep me from panicking, before I even knew about this. Was it a sign? Was the lord trying to prepare me for this situation,  to help keep me from loosing my mind?

    I think that the kids and I are going to start making a nightly video vlog each night of the social shutdown..

    Today I am more nervous then I have been this whole time… I dont know why today seems so more real. Maybe because everything in town is shutting down. My normal Starbucks wasnt even open this morning, only 3 are left open. Its insane… Macy’s, kohl s, JCPennys, Dicks, Micheal’s, Joann’s, Everything… Is.. .Closed !!!

     

  • Is healing myself, hurting someone else?

    I never really thought about the negative type impact my healing would have on my kids.

    Yesterday my son turned 12. We did a  combined family dinner for him, my son in law and my daughter in law, on Sunday.

    It was a day of first. First shared birthday. First birthday in our new place. First birthday his grandma, grandpa K, Grandpa T, uncle, aunts, cousins and his extended family missed. (Not because they weren’t invited)

    He cried himself first into an asthma attack then to sleep. My heart was breaking.
    He seemed fine when he woke up. I woke up with hate in my heart.

    This journey has brought so much change, and for me its been a pretty good change.
    For my kids it has created loneliness, and for that, I am sorry.

    Our house used to always be loud, there was always extra people in it, visiting, eating,  baking, watching movies or sports, playing games, hanging out in the back yard. The kids saw the house full of love. They never saw the price of those days.
    I don’t mean the financial price, I mean the bruises it was leave on my heart and mental health.

    When our old place sold, and we were faced with having to move, everything in life shifted. I needed those people, my family/friends, the ones who I had always accommodated. The ones I had lent money to, did errands, babysat, packed, moved, cleaned for.  The ones I listened to, helped with whatever they needed.
    They were no where to be found – and I, for the first time noticed, what my husband had noticed a long time ago. These people, would come over, have a good time, dump all their burdens, and fears, their needs and wants in my lap, walk away feeling relieved.
    Then, I would go to therapy once a week and try and piece myself back together.

    I first, asked for help with sorting and packing. We did live (and i mean live) in our place for 8 years. Two of our kids graduated and moved out from that house, one started school there, two moved in a few years into it, and one was born there. That house had lots of memories AND lots of stuff ! This move was the hardest I had ever faced. None of us wanting to move, made it even harder.
    Then, it was finding someone to watch the baby, that crazy little tornado who loved flying around that house, and could freely run in and out the back door, into our fantastic fully fenced back yard.
    Finally it was the move itself.
    I was so surprised at who actually showed up for us. It wasn’t my parents, it wasn’t my siblings, it wasn’t the friend who we had just helped move. It actually wasn’t one single person who was in our home on a regular basis.

    This shifted my life, I started to weed out the people who only talked to me when they needed something, I started waiting for responses, not messaging more then once to check on people. Basically I quit begging for time, first from family, then from friends.
    It has created a quieter life, I can handle that. But I didn’t realize how bad the quiet was hurting my child.
    See, he never saw the tears, from the vocal jabs, my mother or brother would through at me. He didn’t hear me shifting times or menu to make sure my dad or sister would come. He would never be burdened with trying to make sure the house looked perfect so there was no judgment about a mess.
    I was doing my job, I was shielding my kids from grownup struggles, or hardships. But I was also creating this life, that was fake, and would eventually be cracked and torn down, and I didn’t even realize it.

    I just wanted my kids to grow up with family around, even if that came at a heavy price for me. — Until I didn’t.
    One morning, I realized, that all the family that I was forced on as a child, was no where to be found. Those aunts, my uncles, cousins, brothers, sisters, where were they? Once my grandmothers on both my dads sides had passed the family dissolved. I was trying my best to create those kind of memories for my kids. But for what? So that as an adult they would be hurting, from relationships that were no more?

    I was done. I am done.

    How do I help my child get through these feelings of abandonment, when I feel them myself.
    Do I apologize to him for trying to create something, build on a fantasy I once held.

    How do I navigate these feelings myself? How I do not feel the guilt because my “family”didn’t show up for him, or even didn’t call him on his birthday. How do I not blame myself, and slide back into old hurtful patterns, just to give my son a false sense of togetherness?

     

     

  • November….

    November has been a hell of a month.

    Update this weekend!

    How did it go from Halloween to Christmas? Where did November go?

    I spend my November between a 75 hour HCA class and working at my girlfriends new store, I think we started basketball in November, and I did host an incredibly lame Thanksgiving dinner ( I’ll make a separate post about that). I haven’t been able to shift into December, no presents have been bought for the children in my house, and we are about 8 days till Christmas.

  • Waiting

    One of the crappiest things about rejection, is becoming afraid to ever be vulnerable for fear of it.

    As I sit here in the E.R. waiting to find out if I have another bloodclot, I’m finding myself not even wanting to tell anyone. If I don’t tell anyone, then it won’t hurt when they don’t care.

    At least my partner is with me this time.

    So many emotions right now.

  • My effing house is ALWAYS a mess!! I don’t care.. do you?

    Something happens when you’re not good enough for your mother. It’s like this deep insecurity that, no matter what, you just can’t move past.

    I mean, if your own mother can’t love you, can anyone really love you?

    I’ve struggled with this for, about as long as I can remember. Normally I can push past it. Fortunately, I’m in a very secure and healthy relationship, and my partner can help me navigate my feelings pretty well along with many years with a great counselor.

    But this week has been rough. We moved about 6 months ago, and I’ve yet to find my footing. The last time I had a conversation with my mom was around the same time. Life has been every changing since.

    My sister is coming to visit, and my house is a mess. Tho if I’m being honest, my house is always a mess, I have 4 Young boys at home, and I’ve never been much of as cleaner. Anyways, my sister is coming over, she’s never been to my house, we are just establishing a relationship after all this biological father news. My anxiety and my insecurities are so full blown right now, it’s actually making me physically ill. I’m having symptoms from anxiety, that in 24 yrs I’ve never experienced.

    Because….. If your own mother can’t love and accept you…. right?

    Will she decide she in fact does not want a relationship with me because I have a pile of dirty laundry in the corner, clean clothes on the couch, or a cluttered counter top? Just typing this is taking my breath away. I mean, do I bathe the baby, or wash the dishes? The baby wins of course, but does that cost me having a relationship with a blood sister that I’ve always longed for?

    Last night I contemplated just telling her I wasn’t up to it right now, because if she doesn’t really know me, she can’t reject me, right? But after taking to my partner, who insures me, she’ll love me no matter what my house looks like, I’ve decided to try to just stop the worrying pick up as I go through the day and let be what will be.