The story is my truth, but it may resonate for others as well.
My mother is now dead. Sounds cold and callous, I know – but I feel like a book has closed. She passed away on Monday morning, with family in attendance – by all accounts it was peaceful. I do wish her well on her journey – she didn’t ask for, or want, what this life provided her – and I forgive her based on that. I hold no malice toward her or her spirit. She did what she was capable of – she just wasn’t capable of what she was called upon to do.
My oldest memory is standing in the kitchen with my father – I couldn’t have been more than three years old – when he said to me “you’re mother is coming home from the hospital tomorrow, now we have to be good so she doesn’t get sick again”. My dad was looking for an ally – I know that – but my brain at the time crafted the scenario where aberrations in my behavior could send my mother away. This was when I still believed that there could be care, love, and nurturing found there. It was all up to me – I had to be “good”, to go along, to not make waves.
This informed every relationship I had up until four years ago. I fully admit that I was the one who’d held myself hostage with this emotional blackmail for almost all of my life. I subjugated any needs or wants I had in favor of either keeping my mother or her surrogate (whoever I was in a relationship with) happy. Naturally, I gravitated toward the worst kind of co-dependent relationships. I wasn’t allowed to have my needs met, so why not lock myself into a situation where it was impossible anyway. I lived my life governed by a fear of abandonment. To this day I’ll occasionally still find myself in that same, comfortable, apologetic mode. There’s nothing wrong with being contrite for something you might have done to offend someone – but when you end up with a nickname of “Sorry” because you say it all the time – that’s the sign of an unhealthy relationship.
Thankfully, for the most part, I’d broken that pattern after the last conscious time I’d seen my mother – in 2011. We still kept in touch for two more years – but in 2013, I walked away for good. The catalyst was trivial, but it was enough. Since then, I have tried to find myself in whole, compatible, nurturing, and non-destructive relationships with people who are genuinely self-aware, or at least on that path. Much like a substance abuser not associating with the “old crowd”, the new souls that tend to populate my life help me affirm that this is the way I want to live.
My spirituality gives me occasion to make a monthly vow to myself. This month I had chosen “Self-Determination” – and now during this time, my mother passes away. I feel as though a weight has been lifted, curtains opened, and skies clearing. I have made more choices in the past few days based on what “I” need than I can remember. It’s getting reflexive, and I think I’m on the right track.
There are going to be a lot of changes – some profound, some subtle, but I’m anxious to know what this life can be like lived on my own terms.
