A little girl shouldn't have to hear her momma say that she wants to die. It's confusing. I heard my momma say it many, many times. I was in elementary school the first time that I was afraid that she was going to hurt herself. I didn't understand why my momma asked me what to do about grown up problems. I didn't understand why she hated her life, and I surely didn't understand why I slowly became the adult.
By third grade, I wrote all of the notes to school and read all of the notes from school as well as other "important" things that my mom wanted me to explain. My mom had dyslexia, but I didn't know that or understand it until I was an adult. She, also, suffered from depression. The bottom line is that my momma never really felt like she was loved, she never loved herself, and she never trusted herself.
She had horrible migraines that my step-dad started giving her Valium for. She would be locked in a room for a few days at a time, and I would take care of my little sister and brother. I did most of the chores by myself. It is a point of contention to even discuss this, but I, also, slept on a cot for many years when I wasn't sharing a bed with my little sister. Now, I'm not Cinderella by any stretch, but I think that it is important to understand someone's history so that you can understand his/her present. My momma tried taking her own life when I was in jr high. It was very dark during those years. There was a lot of wrong going on in our home that I couldn't process and struggle to even express.
I moved out when my older step-brother was coming back from the military. It was best for me. I knew that it was not best for my little brother and sister, and I knew that my momma would be losing her right hand girl. I had become her adviser on just about everything. The decision didn't come easy, but I knew that it was my only choice. My step-dad would make sure that my sister was not hurt.
I thought for a while that Mom and my siblings would stay with me at my grandparents, but she ended up going back and taking them with her. I remember the day she left like it was yesterday. She screamed and screamed at me. I just stood there so stoic while she ranted and raved. She said that I was dead to her. She didn't contact me for about a year. It was horrible, and it wasn't if that makes any sense. I began 8th grade living with my Papa and Granny.
The phone calls to the school started my freshman year. She would demand that the office get me, and when I got to the phone she would just rant and rave and tell me how she carried me for nine months and how could I do this to her. By then end of my freshman year, my Papa made me go stay two weeks with her during the summer. That was the second time that she tried to take her own life. I hated leaving my little brother and sister; I just knew that I could not stay in that environment.
She finally left my step-dad when I was a freshman in college. Then, the suicide calls became regular occurrences. My sister would call me crying, and I would have to talk my mom down. At the end of that school year, during finals, the call came that Mom had overdosed and was being hospitalized. I wrapped up at school and moved into her apartment to care for my brother and sister until she was released. I went to my first parent-teacher conference at age 19 to try and help my little brother pass 7th grade.
Throughout my college years, I would work and try to take care of my siblings from a distance. I gave my mom money that I didn't have to spare. She went from one bad relationship to the next looking for that something to fill the whole in her heart. I took enough psychology classes to make me dangerous, but I wanted to figure out what could fix her problems. I did not understand that the only way for her to heal was Christ. My little brother often stayed with me at college. My little sister married way too young just to escape. It is sad, but they have happy endings.
My momma has struggled with prescription medication from the time of the migraines to today. Our roles have, often, been reversed. The one thing that I have never doubted, though, is that my momma loves me. She loves all of us. She has not come to terms with her childhood, her past, or her present. Yet, when I needed her the other night, she was there for me. She has missed my graduations (minus my masters which was a nasty ultimatum that I gave her), missed school plays, missed performances at the Gaslight, missed the birth of my daughter, missed many of my children's events...consumed with her own pain and suffering. Yet, the other night, she didn't miss the opportunity to minister to me.
I have had mixed emotions about some of the things that I have felt the Holy Spirit nudge me to discuss. I didn't understand why I needed to write about my potential foreclosure and repeated debt collector calls, but God had a plan. He worked a miracle, and nobody would have ever believed it had I not been whining and complaining about the calls and possible foreclosure. When my realtor called me with the proposal on Sunday, I just couldn't believe it. I thought, who is going to believe this? God said, write about it.
I am not sure why He kept pushing me to write more about my momma, but I knew that I had to explain more about our history. This blog only scratched the surface. There is so much complexity to the years of her depression, physical pain, and now cancer added to my endeavors to fix her or solve everything for her. I had to reach a point where I admitted that I was not capable of fixing her or her problems. It didn't stop me from trying.
The only scripture that keeps coming at me is Ephesians 6:1-3 "Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right.“Honor your father and mother”—which is the first commandment with a promise—“that it may go well with you and that you may enjoy long life on the earth.”
We all have trials and burdens. No one had the perfect childhood, right? Yet, we still have to honor our parents. It doesn't mean that we enable them or excuse them. We honor, esteem, them . We hold them in regard. My momma is very sensitive about our past. She hurts for things that happened that cannot be changed. It spirals into more of that which she struggles with. I still love her, and she, even in her weakness, is capable of serving and ministering to others. Isn't that part of God's message to us in the trenches? No matter your condition or past, you can still serve and minister.
By third grade, I wrote all of the notes to school and read all of the notes from school as well as other "important" things that my mom wanted me to explain. My mom had dyslexia, but I didn't know that or understand it until I was an adult. She, also, suffered from depression. The bottom line is that my momma never really felt like she was loved, she never loved herself, and she never trusted herself.
She had horrible migraines that my step-dad started giving her Valium for. She would be locked in a room for a few days at a time, and I would take care of my little sister and brother. I did most of the chores by myself. It is a point of contention to even discuss this, but I, also, slept on a cot for many years when I wasn't sharing a bed with my little sister. Now, I'm not Cinderella by any stretch, but I think that it is important to understand someone's history so that you can understand his/her present. My momma tried taking her own life when I was in jr high. It was very dark during those years. There was a lot of wrong going on in our home that I couldn't process and struggle to even express.
I moved out when my older step-brother was coming back from the military. It was best for me. I knew that it was not best for my little brother and sister, and I knew that my momma would be losing her right hand girl. I had become her adviser on just about everything. The decision didn't come easy, but I knew that it was my only choice. My step-dad would make sure that my sister was not hurt.
I thought for a while that Mom and my siblings would stay with me at my grandparents, but she ended up going back and taking them with her. I remember the day she left like it was yesterday. She screamed and screamed at me. I just stood there so stoic while she ranted and raved. She said that I was dead to her. She didn't contact me for about a year. It was horrible, and it wasn't if that makes any sense. I began 8th grade living with my Papa and Granny.
The phone calls to the school started my freshman year. She would demand that the office get me, and when I got to the phone she would just rant and rave and tell me how she carried me for nine months and how could I do this to her. By then end of my freshman year, my Papa made me go stay two weeks with her during the summer. That was the second time that she tried to take her own life. I hated leaving my little brother and sister; I just knew that I could not stay in that environment.
She finally left my step-dad when I was a freshman in college. Then, the suicide calls became regular occurrences. My sister would call me crying, and I would have to talk my mom down. At the end of that school year, during finals, the call came that Mom had overdosed and was being hospitalized. I wrapped up at school and moved into her apartment to care for my brother and sister until she was released. I went to my first parent-teacher conference at age 19 to try and help my little brother pass 7th grade.
Throughout my college years, I would work and try to take care of my siblings from a distance. I gave my mom money that I didn't have to spare. She went from one bad relationship to the next looking for that something to fill the whole in her heart. I took enough psychology classes to make me dangerous, but I wanted to figure out what could fix her problems. I did not understand that the only way for her to heal was Christ. My little brother often stayed with me at college. My little sister married way too young just to escape. It is sad, but they have happy endings.
My momma has struggled with prescription medication from the time of the migraines to today. Our roles have, often, been reversed. The one thing that I have never doubted, though, is that my momma loves me. She loves all of us. She has not come to terms with her childhood, her past, or her present. Yet, when I needed her the other night, she was there for me. She has missed my graduations (minus my masters which was a nasty ultimatum that I gave her), missed school plays, missed performances at the Gaslight, missed the birth of my daughter, missed many of my children's events...consumed with her own pain and suffering. Yet, the other night, she didn't miss the opportunity to minister to me.
I have had mixed emotions about some of the things that I have felt the Holy Spirit nudge me to discuss. I didn't understand why I needed to write about my potential foreclosure and repeated debt collector calls, but God had a plan. He worked a miracle, and nobody would have ever believed it had I not been whining and complaining about the calls and possible foreclosure. When my realtor called me with the proposal on Sunday, I just couldn't believe it. I thought, who is going to believe this? God said, write about it.
I am not sure why He kept pushing me to write more about my momma, but I knew that I had to explain more about our history. This blog only scratched the surface. There is so much complexity to the years of her depression, physical pain, and now cancer added to my endeavors to fix her or solve everything for her. I had to reach a point where I admitted that I was not capable of fixing her or her problems. It didn't stop me from trying.
The only scripture that keeps coming at me is Ephesians 6:1-3 "Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right.“Honor your father and mother”—which is the first commandment with a promise—“that it may go well with you and that you may enjoy long life on the earth.”
We all have trials and burdens. No one had the perfect childhood, right? Yet, we still have to honor our parents. It doesn't mean that we enable them or excuse them. We honor, esteem, them . We hold them in regard. My momma is very sensitive about our past. She hurts for things that happened that cannot be changed. It spirals into more of that which she struggles with. I still love her, and she, even in her weakness, is capable of serving and ministering to others. Isn't that part of God's message to us in the trenches? No matter your condition or past, you can still serve and minister.
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