Monday, November 21, 2011

Nightmares, part 1

Last night I had nightmares. Everything was good. I was perfectly happy to get woken up by boy2 to say goodnight. (seriously, I love that) I fell back to sleep almost immediately.

I woke up 30 minutes later because I had a nightmare about seeing my Dad for the last time. Update: My Dad died about 3 years ago.

I remembered how horrified I was that he was so fragile. My strong, stoic father, who barely touched us, much less told us he loved us. Telling me he loved me and he was proud of me from a hospital bed hooked up to all kinds of tubes. My father, who I wanted so much to be like, smart, proud and in-charge. Reduced to a broken hip and twitchy muscles so he couldn't even focus his eyes. All because of the randomness of kidney disease and a virus caught because his immune system was being suppressed to save that new kidney he had just gotten the year before, that they couldn't cure in time.

I was so angry... still am I guess, when my mother kept pressuring him for a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate). I wanted to scream, he's 58! Why won't you give him a chance to fight!? He didn't want to sign at first and she kept pressuring him.

I don't think my mother killed my father, but I don't think she gave him much of a chance either. I think she killed his will to live. Who wants to live when your spouse is basically saying you're not worth taking care of? And she wondered why, after my father died, I couldn't talk to her about missing him. She wanted to sob to me on the phone about how lonely and sad she was that he was gone, and I was suppressing not yelling at her. Maybe if she hadn't pressured him for the DNR he'd still be here today! I couldn't tell my mother that, but I couldn't stand talking to her either.

She kept pointing out how much I was like him, that I didn't want to talk about my emotions. All I wanted was to not talk about them with her or anyone else. It's horrible to be so angry at your own mother. Especially for something you know it's not completely logical to blame her for. I didn't want to talk to her about it and I didn't want to admit it out-loud to anyone I knew, for fear of being told all the logical reasons why I shouldn't blame her. I know! I've gone over them in my head a million times.

I used to try and talk with her. Comfort her, offer suggestions to make her happy. She would complain about how lonely she was, I would suggest taking a community college class, or volunteering, or joining a book club. All of which she would hem-and-haw about and in the end still not venture outside the house. I suggested therapy, she said it was too expensive. My grandparents, her parents died a year after my dad died. Things got worse. Her dog died. She said she wanted to be near me, but wouldn't come for a visit much less contemplate a move. Her and my brother (who is an alcoholic and drug addict), clung to each other, while she complained about how terrible he was and he called her a b*tch.

Everything was about her, but there was never anything new. She was stuck in a rut and refused to move on with life. I became more angry that I was being clung to. Depended on for her happiness. I tried to be the "good daughter", but I wanted to have my own life too. And talking to her all the time meant that there was no longer anything to talk about. No more safe topics.

She finally agreed on a visit, at Christmas last year. I practically had a nervous break-down before she came because I knew her history of causing drama to get attention, and my Ex's mother and sister and their family were coming too. In fact, I drank so much the week before that I probably had alcohol poisoning.

My mother stayed for 3 days and then left before Christmas because I wasn't paying enough attention to her. She then proceeded to leave me nasty voice mails, emails, and even sent a letter snail mail telling me all sorts of things that were meant to hurt. I stopped talking to her.

In the last 11 months I've talked to my mother once, to tell her I was getting a divorce. When I told her I was getting a divorce, she said to me: "I never wanted this for you..."

Last night is the first time I've ever dreamed of my father in that hospital bed. I never want to ever again.

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