Tuesday, March 02, 2010

reason 493.


Every year around Mother's Day, I'd stand in front of the card section at the local grocery store or Target and get a knot in my stomach. All those gushy, mushy cards, expressing such love and gratitude to the women who bore us. I never wanted to buy one of those cards. I never wanted to celebrate Mother's Day. I felt so alone, so left out. Watching young women my age picking out cards for their mothers, smiling and clutching that perfect folded gift as soon as they found it. Reading all of the cards that never said anything I could actually say to my mom, let alone feel about her. What kind of card do you get for a mother who suffers from schizophrenia? Who was never really there for you because she couldn't be? Who was too sick to even carry on a lucid conversation with you? What does that kind of card say?

To Mom, on Mother's Day
Thank you for not being in the psych ward this year.

To a Wonderful Mother
Well, at least when she's on her meds.

Dear Mom...
You've been the best psychotic mother a kid could ever have.

I say these now in a semi-joking way because there's been a lot of healing in the past year or two. Prior to this healing, I don't think I could even write a blog post about my mom without crying my eyes out. But now. Oh, but now.

My dad is currently in Russia on business. My mom sent me an email telling me how much she misses talking to him. My parents have been married for more than three decades, despite my mother's illness. My father, my hero. My role model for what it means to truly love. To truly be married to someone. In sickness and in health. And that part of the email that said she misses talking to him? What a blessing that she can say that! She never could've have said that, expressed that emotion. Her illness was too strong, too controlling. But now. Oh, but now.

I'm going over to my parents' house tomorrow after work to make dinner for my mom. I wish it was Mother's Day, because I'd bring eleventy-seven of those cards with me. Just to tell her how much I love her. And how I've missed talking to her all these years.


Now. Oh, now. How thankful I am for now.

with love from Pittsburgh,
Laura
{I love LOT 9 PRESS. I want the print above.}

7 lovely bits o' feedback.:

Duel Living said...

I cried my eyes out for you just now. So powerful. I am so proud of you that you can connect to those feelings and know and say out loud....hey....my mom is sick...but she let me down.
My own mother is not sick. She moved 3000 miles away from me and my sister when I was 4...and I have had her on a pedestal ever since. Growing up...all my mental and phyical complications, anxiety, depression...I know have been routed around that subject. But I have never...never...never...been able to say out loud...
MOM, you let me down.
Bravo...that you can, and you forgive, and you are healing. And triple bravo to your dad (mine is also my hero) for sticking around with your mom in sickness...and through YOUR health.

Love ya girlie,
xoxo,
Brandi

Eileen, Founder, Organizer, Mayor and Chief Cook And Bottle Washer of the Anger Management Girls. said...

You honor your mother every day of your life just by being the amazing person you've become.(sorry if that isn't grammatically correct, but you get what I'm saying!)
And meds or not, I'm thinking she knows what an amazing daughter she has.
This year when looking for mother's day cards, remember this post.

goodniteirene said...

holding your sweet, beautiful head in my hands so i can kiss the top of it.
that was a beautiful mother's day card you just wrote.....
love to you.
katie

goodniteirene said...

holding your sweet, beautiful head in my hands so i can kiss the top of it.
that was a beautiful mother's day card you just wrote.....
love to you.
katie

Lynnetta said...

It is never to late <3

laureen said...

well girlie, i always learn from you. sitting here abashed, wondering how much mending & healing can happen in such a broken history. but you show hope, and i thank you.

krista said...

that is love.
yes.