Next week I will continue my friends series with Commando, Torino, Nascar, Towelie, RJ, Frumpy, Tallegdega…and so many more.
Now I kind of want to get something of my chest. My Mother. She called me a dick the other night, and it kind of hurt. I am many things, but a dick I do not think I am.
Let’s start the beginning, My Mother and I were best friends, we’d go shopping together, hang out together, I was her little shadow back in the day. It took a drastic change when she ran out on my father. The reason was over financial stuff. I am an idealist, I think marriage is for better, or for worse. When she ran out it hurt me deeply, Not only that it hurt my father deeply, and I had to watch him go through a deep depression. My family unit was destroyed, and I blamed my mother. In hindsight I know it takes two to tango, and my Dad wasn’t perfect, but that’s what marriages are about you work things out. Probably deep down I never really forgave my Mom for this, and the hate still simmers under the service. Her mercenary tendencies always rubbed me the wrong way, probably why I don’t give a shit about money.
Years later I found out my Mom had cancer, and I put my hate aside, and was by her side when she battled that disease, driving her to radiology treatments, visiting hospitals, trying to toss a doctor out the window. One time my mom was getting a tube down her throat, and the young doctor was doing it wrong, my Mom knew he was cause she was a nurse, she screamed for him to stop, he didn’t, he punctured her lung. I was there when it happened, my brother, and some other family members had to physically stop me from tossing the doctor out a 5 story window.
Ever since then I’ve always been there for my Mom, visiting her, helping her, shopping for her, etc. etc. Then disaster struck my Stepdad had a stroke. He’s a good man, and when he moved back home, My Mother asked me to move back in with her to help her out. I did, and in the beginning it was just me. I changed the diapers, got him into bed, all that fun stuff. No one else was there, not even the guys own daughter. That seems to of slipped my mother’s mind.
Another problem is my Mom’s gambling, she gambles ALOT. Like 2-3 days a week for 8-10 hours. She has a serious problem, she doesn’t see it. Being an old gambling junkee myself I know, I been there. Hell I still crack up now and then and go to the boat. Here’s the difference between me and my mother, I don’t have a paraylzed man to worry about at home. I know my Mom is depressed, she needs real help, but she refuses to listen. I remember telling my Mom, we have to tighten our belts, I told her she didn’t need nurses everyday, I would pick up the slack on Mondays, Tuesdays, even Wendesdays. Told her she needed to stop gambling, and buying stuff she doesn’t need, which she does all the time. She never made those changes. In fact her and me would get into screaming matches over it, and she would tell me I’m not her father.
It all hit a head when I forbade my Mother to go to my Grandmother’s wake, it’s my fathers mother, he had a hard time dealing with it I didn’t want her complicating any thing. My Mother told me to get the fuck out, I said fine I will. Thats when I made steps to get the fuck out. Then she wanted to pay rent, now I wouldn’t mind helping my mother out if she really needed help, but where is my money going…to the boat? Now that I’m moving out, My Mother is still a hard headed person, even now if she said to me she was sorry, and that she really needed my help, please don’t leave. I most assuredly wouldn’t. No not my mother, she villifies me, makes me look like the bad guy.
So be it, say hello to the bad guy. I won’t stop helping my Mom, I will be there to do her shopping, and odd chores around the house. I just can’t live with her anymore. I am profoundly sad at this situation, and now I feel pangs of guilt…but I must do what must be done, perhaps some good will come out of this, perhaps my mother will come to her senses.
I just don’t know anymore.