Of Endings and Beginnings, part 2

Hello My Friend,

It is nearly here.  The end of this particular cycle with my mother and the beginning of a new one with her.

She will be driving away, much like always, in the morning, with a few possessions, a dog, a new pillow, and a belief that she is engaging in another grand adventure, following her passions, embarking on a spiritual journey, having made peace with the fact that "she has done nothing wrong," to a place where she will be "needed."

And as much as I have dreamed of this day, this freedom, this release, and relief for myself, I am disheartened, I am saddened, that I am still not a "need."

To be absolutely clear, I do not want her to stay here.  

I do not want the actual person that she is as a part of my life, and I am truly hopeful for a future without her here that continues to trigger my oldest wounds and traumas.

And still, today is a bittersweet day for me.  There is little comfort that I feel as she prepares to abandon the fantasy me that exists in the recesses of my atypically wired mind.  It is a day of mourning, as the woman who was charged with loving me unconditionally and shaping my infant self into a secure and loved individual proves once again her inability and unwillingness to sacrifice the parts of herself that could have done this.  There is a tremendous grief and a grieving in my soul.  

She is running away from this place where she once again did not find fulfillment, and once again, I am a part of that place.

She has been running as long as I can remember.

And I have been chasing for just as long.

This time however, has been and continues to be different.  I have unconditionally offered sound financial advice and options, and she has not listened to a word I have said.  I have chosen not to impose my beliefs on her, straining and struggling to muscle her into doing things my way, because there is no gain in that for either of us.  There is only a diminishment of my own inner strength and resilience.

For my own health and wellbeing I am not pursuing someone who was never there in the first place.  

There is a telling memory that has been with me as I think of how I have chosen to deal with this situation.  It was an oft repeated tale, told by my mother and in fact verified by her mother, more than 25 years ago when my Grama was still alive.  

It was an early, yet apparently frequent event in my mother's childhood, beginning from the age of 4 or 5, that as a little girl my mother would threaten to "run away from home."  
My grandmother's response was always the same.  "Ok," she would reply, "I'll make you a sandwich to take with you.  Have you got everything you need?"  This would most often cause my mother to grumble, feel defeated, and give up her quest within a few minutes time.  Though she was given freedoms no 4 or 5 year old would be given today, her need to run was evidently already in place.

If I were to go into a psychoanalysis of this drama, I could pull multiple levels of power, control, autonomy, etc. and then layer those with mental illness, societal and cultural normatives, and an historical reference.  Likewise, I could do the same with the future events of her life that now constitute the past of my own childhood and create many scenarios that place guilt, blame, and explanations real or imagined onto them.  And perhaps this might explain my perseverance in chasing after her.  Perhaps, this might give insight into the decisions I have made over the years.  Perhaps, it might even cause me to have a compassion that I did not have before.

Yet, for whatever reason, all the answers in the world that I could extricate and extrapolate from this, will never be enough.  The reality of what was, and what is, and what will be have no true bonds with answers, or logic, or analyses that bring understanding or compassion at this time.

When mental illness is the root of someone's core, when it is left unchecked, untreated, and unaccountable, then that beast will consume what it must in order to survive.  I have lived with that beast within myself for decades and it has fought brutally with my mother's beast.  Her beast continues to scream and terrorize and destroy as it tears its way through this world.

Mine, well mine, has been given compassion, therapy, a host of medications, and a family that loves the man who has been asked to bring it along for the ride.

Sadly, that was not then nor has it ever been, truly done for her or her mental illness.

So, tomorrow, my mother's beast will be driving halfway across the country, snarling and snapping its ever hungry jaws, ready to devour and fill the helplessness and hopelessness it cannot satisfy.

And tomorrow, my beast, will be as at peace as it can be.  It will be sleeping.  And it will be forgiven.  

I will be at work, journeying with others whose beasts have yet to be understood or given what they need.  To be acknowledged for their passion, creativity, and genius.  To be cradled and comforted.  To be treated with compassion, medications, and a willingness to let go.

Tonight, I will let G-d take over watch of my beast, my mental illness, my gift and my curse, and forgive it and me for all the damage we have done together.

Tomorrow, with the grace of G-d, I will ask G-d do this for my mother and her beast as well, and have the hope that it could truly happen.


And I will say goodbye to the mother I never had, the mother that I did, and the beast she could not tame.  

It will be a time of mourning.  

It will be a time of release.

And I may sit Shivah, or I may roll the stone away, or I may do nothing at all.

But I will remember my own words.

Be well, love your neighbor as you love yourself, and remember to actually love yourself.

-Ari