A few weeks ago, my mom lost her cell phone. However minor it may seem, I knew this one event would become a crisis escalating into a series of events. For context, my mother is 82 years old and currently residing in an assisted living / nursing home community. She has been there for the past 4 years. I think it is safe to say that she will inevitably remain there for the rest of her life. The story I’m about to share could of resulted in a different outcome. However, despite my efforts and best intentions, I’ve resigned myself to the fact that it wasn’t meant to be. That sometimes, when we try so desperately to make something fit, we fail to realize that the best alternative, and sometimes the only alternative is to let it be.
I’ve made two attempts to move my mom closer to me. Both had failed miserably. The last attempt was shortly after her stroke 10 years ago. Her memory had always been an issue but even more so now after the stroke. It became clear that she couldn’t continue to live on her own. So, I took it upon myself and moved her from New York to Texas. Its important to note, that moving someone who has lived all their life in New York to another state, Texas, is like trying to keep a fish alive but out of it’s natural habitat. Of course, I knew of the challenges, but I also thought of the positive. This could be a wonderful opportunity to spend quality time with her three grand children. Especially since they barely knew her being we were so far away. So, I did what I thought was the right thing and began the process of moving her.
I thought this time would be different. Her health was deteriorating and her cancer barely in remission. Shortly before we left for New York, her prognosis was 6months – 1 year. I was devastated and wanted to take advantage of whatever time we had left. I also wanted this to work and was willing to do whatever it took to make it work.
I also thought “she” would be different. Maybe because of her stroke and cancer prognosis, I felt maybe she would be easier, more manageable. I also took into account her not being here for very long and felt that whatever happened, or whatever issues may arise, that all of this would be worth it in the end.
However, once I got her settled, a few months later, I noticed the micro-aggressions coming out. With therapy, I realized these micro aggressions were more, much more than facial expressions. For as long as I can remember since I was a little girl, my mom would distort her face. I can only describe it as “screw face”. She did this every time she was not happy with someone…me. Her lip would curl and her nose would get wrinkled. I remember these facial expressions when I was very young. Whenever I got scolded or hit, these facial expressions would come out even more so. They were so common that I anticipated them whenever we had an interaction. These aggressions were a part of my daily routine with her. I think she knew that her face scared me, because it was distorted all the time. Through therapy I learned that lip curling is a sign of contempt and disgust. I don’t think we realize that through our body language, how much we say, and how much we share of ourselves just by a twitch or curl of the lip.
I hadn’t lived with my mom since high school. Now, I’m shouldering the responsibility of caring for her, plus my 3 children and a husband (who might as well be the 4th child). What was I thinking? I was thinking of doing the right thing. Not for myself but for her. People pleasing 101. And maybe, to a degree, I thought this would be beneficial for me and my children as well. Unfortunately, the best intentions don’t always have the best outcomes.
I was working full time and managing my home and the children. To say I was juggling was an understatement. Initially, I saw my mom as an accent, to help ease some of the pressure I was under. Reading to the children before bedtime or just sitting with them while I was making dinner would of helped. But she wanted none of that. She had no interest in reading to the children or sitting with them while they watch cartoons. Overtime her memory and mobility had improved. And the person I thought I could manage was now becoming unmanageable.
It started with demands not questions. First was the food. When she did not like her meal, I had to make a separate meal for her and another for everyone else. She demanded to go shopping and to go out for dinner and drinks. She obviously was getting better and deep down I was happy for her recovery. But at the same time, realizing her getting better was also reminding me of my childhood and everything I had left behind.
Or, politely telling her to stop talking in a movie theater, you would think I would of told her something inflammatory. In response, she gives me her worse screw face and curled her lip that all I could do was stare. I quickly looked away and tried to shake it off.
With each month that passed, it became harder and harder to manage her. She was not happy in Texas and voiced it regularly. She complained to anyone who would listen, mostly friends and family back in New York. I tried to introduce her to senior centers. Places where she could possibly meet other women, make new friendships and start engaging with people her age. She wanted no part of it. She wanted to be with me all the time. If I went to the store, she had to come. Initially I thought she wanted to get out of the house or maybe help with the groceries but instead it was her opportunity to pick all the junk food she could and place in the cart.
This wasn’t just about me managing her care. But managing her health. She would try to get a glass of wine at 11am, clearly with all her medication that would be a “no-no”. I found myself reprimanding her daily for things she should not be doing. And in return receiving the screw face and curl lip expression in response.
I felt like I was 8 years old. I could feel my frustration grow as well as my anger. This was supposed to be her final years with me and my children. This may not be New York, I get it, its hot here, sometimes unbearably hot but you are with me and your grandchildren. Aren’t we worth it? Isn’t what I’m doing to try and support you worth it?
After 8 months, she was back on a plane visiting her boyfriend in New York. At first, I felt a little awkward letting her go. But she insisted and insisted on leaving. And I honestly felt like we both needed a break from one another. But every time she left it was more difficult to bring her back to reality. She became more demanding and belligerent each time she returned. She also stayed through Christmas and New Year’s, to take advantage of all her activities she felt she was neglecting back in New York. Which also hurt. I wanted and thought her being around me and her grandchildren would be more important, especially around Christmas.
Two years after she left New York, she returned and decided to stay with her boyfriend. I let her go. I gave up trying to make her happy. And honestly didn’t want to force anyone to do something that they clearly didn’t want to do.
Later, she would move in with her boyfriend until he was in no condition to care for himself or her. His son put him in an assisted living facility and she reluctantly followed him. I say reluctantly because she was adamant on not going. Apparently, she got what she wanted from him and now was ready to go to the next thing….me.
This was the turning point in my relationship with my mother. It was the first time where I told her what I thought of her. I said, “You are a user, you use people and you used this man as a means to an end, for a place to stay and transportation. And now that he can no longer do for you, you want nothing more to do with him”.
She had to go with him. She had no other place to stay. And I was “not” entertaining the idea of her moving back to Texas. I felt it was the right decision and the only thing for her to do.
He passed away last year and she is still there…alone.
I have no intentions of moving her or trying to move her back to Texas.
Due to my divorce, and the revelation that I had married my mother. I’m struggling to have a relationship with her. A meaningful relationship. I know who is she is and also know she will never take responsibility for anything that she has said or did to me as a child. Yet, I’m still here managing her care over 1,000 miles away. And feeling very indifferent about it.
It takes time to accept what was not a part of the original plan. It’s hard to plan for uncertainty nor to anticipate the unforeseen outcomes, and everything that goes with it. This is something that I clearly did not want on the onset. Yet, here I am. I have run out of options and puzzle pieces to work with. This is the best and only way I know how to make this puzzle work.
To anyone dealing, or managing a parent who is toxic. If you can, try and find a piece of the puzzle that will work for you. Even if it may not be the best or ideal fit for the situation. Your health, your mental capacity is more important than catering to the needs of someone who will only continue to drain you dry.
Vampires are called vampires for a reason.
