It’s Mother’s Day. Another day on the calendar I sort of dread.
My mother passed away something like ten years ago. I would have to go look at the copy of her death certificate I printed out that sits on my desk, buried under some papers. I printed it out after an online search a year or so ago…because I couldn’t remember exactly when she died.
That should tell you something.
I know that as humans, we tend to remember negative things much more vividly than positive.
So…I remember her trying to convince me to get married at 16 years old and get out of her house (spoiler alert–I waited until 17–the first time). I remember the constant criticism, the mood swings, the emotional abuse–I remember all of that far too well. It’s why I have some PTSD.
I also remember some good stuff…it just takes me a minute to push through all the bad to get there. I remember her telling me when I was five years old, to go look in the bird’s nest in our back yard, as she thought the fairies had left me something. And they had…two little fairy dolls. I still have them. I remember her making me doll cakes–a bundt cake with a doll in the middle, the cake as a dress.
She had a sense of humor as well…I remember when I was five years old, I walked home from kindergarten…that was back in the day when a child could walk alone without Children’s Protective Services being called…anyway…I arrived home and walked up to our back door. This woman was standing there, inside the screen door, looking down at me. She said that she was my mother’s sister…she looked like my mom…she had yellow hair…bright pink lipstick…big earrings…I was a bit confused, as again, she looked like my mother, but my mom didn’t have yellow hair, she had dark brown/blackish hair…Finally my mother just burst out laughing..it seems she was a bit bored that day and put on a wig, just to freak me out…which worked….
Ok, now that I’m an adult, with my own children..the joke above seems actually, quite hysterically funny. Maybe this is what pushed me into comedy. WE WILL NEVER KNOW.
And no, my mother did NOT drink.
Ok, not like that–not in a drinking alcoholic way. In an occasional, teensy bit of beer at the bottom of her glass, topped off with 7 Up, kind of way. And then she would act all buzzed. It was crazy man, I’m telling you.
I guess what I’m trying to say, in all of this rambling…is I miss my mom. I miss the mom she could have been…if mental health services had been around then…if she had been given access to the correct services…if she’d had the insight to recognize the madness in herself…maybe she did…maybe she didn’t…
All I can do is sift through my own steamer trunk full of childhood baggage, and try to be a good mother to my own children…and not let them go through what I did. I’m sure that my kids will have some issues…and I’m sure that some of them may be my fault. What can I say–I’m doing the very best I can. I wasn’t built on a very sturdy foundation–my walls are a bit shaky. I’m trying to build my children a bit stronger. And it’s difficult.
So, happy Mother’s Day to all of you out there…those of you with mom’s…those of you with children…those of you that have given up children, or lost them…those of you, like me…that face this day with a mixture of feelings…
I will enjoy some time with my own children.
And then tonight..it’s showtime and comedy.
Mom…if you’re out there in the universe someplace…send me some good vibes. I could use them.