Old stuff

A long time ago I had a web page. On that page I had an on-line journal. I have a link to the page in this post, but I don't know how much longer that link will function.

Old Journal

I read through a few of those entries the other night....and it was painful for me for a few reasons.
I am squeamish about the wording and the spelling..... but, I don't mean that.
I remember writing those entries and I remember what I was going through at the time.
Bluntly, I was in a very bad place because of my Mom. It is not a coincidence that my interest in the page faded off and my entries went cold after she died.
I think I want to go back to them because there was so much I wasn't saying... things I couldn't handle, and secrets that hadn't revealed themselves yet. I need to wrap those things up.
I don't mean to drag this out or be cryptic, I just don't know how to jump into this.
My relationship with my Mom is a big issue for me ... her death, and the way it happened shaped me.... and in a tragic way that I regret, I wasn't able to be an adult and step in to be of any help to her. I was too busy running off and licking my own wounds. .................... so....................... this is my plan... I will spit out a rough explanation and then from time to time I will post one of the old entries that I feel needs to be filled out and go into greater detail.


I Loved my Mom... When reading this try to keep that in your thoughts as a constant.

The first time I remember things seeming unreasonable came on her 40th birthday. My Dad and I decorated the basement with black balloons and streamers and had an over the hill tombstone on her birthday cake. I was very excited about her seeing it... it never occurred to me that she would feel anything but special, we had put a lot of effort into everything, and it seemed right along the lines of her humor... she had never been sensitive about her age... and had laughed at and made comparable jokes.----- When she saw it she started screaming... and accused my Dad and I of wanting her to die, and trying to kill her and then she went into the bed room and cried for a day. Later she came out and apologized.
I would see this play itself out over and over... sometimes because they left onions off of her hamburger ... She saw plots against her everywhere... and random things would send her into depressions that would last for days. Sometimes she would stop eating, sometimes she would sit on the edge of the bed holding her pillow and cry....for hours... later she began injuring herself...pulling out her hair in chunks... digging her nails into her skin...and other things..... and much later she started really lashing out at my Dad and I. My Dad first... then me.... She would say things like... she had written notes and hidden them in the house telling people how we murdered her... and how we wanted her to die. BUT in between she was fine ... she was my wonderful loving Mom.
I was in college before I started to understand that she had problems that she was creating herself. Until that time ... until Joe saw the situation and tried to bring me out of everything... I believed I really was horrible ... I was killing her.... and I was certain that when I grew up I would become just like her. I believed that... I always felt this ticking clock .... always distrusted my judgement..... and worried constantly about keeping control.
I was living in a little apartment on Fratney street when she really got sick.... I noticed, but couldn't tell what the situation was from a distance... and I admit I created some of the distance. When i first moved out I was selfish... I was trying to break out of things that were injuring me, so I won't apologize.... but I will say I wish I (the person I am now) could go back and talk to her.
At the time I wrote these journal entries... I knew how severe things were someplace... It wasn't super conscious... and so it came out in strange ways. I stopped sleeping I had terrible dreams when I did sleep that didn't end when I woke up....I Was cracking apart.
The horrible truth is...as much as I want her here with me alive now... there was a relief that I felt when she died. The person she had become in the last year of her life was tortured ...and ill...
After she died...
three years later...
I got a call from my half sister .... a sister I knew nothing about. Mom had given her up for adoption.... and no one living had known a thing about it.
I've written enough for today... but .... I will write more some other time.