My Old Twisted Mum

Note from me: There are some very negative and complicated feelings in this post, which I felt at that time. It is now 5 years later, and things have changed. Mum is in a better place, and the burden has been lifted from us significantly. the situation is still complex, but the bitter feelings I felt back then have lessened considerably. It must be borne in mind, that is how I felt then, and not now. 

Rod, March 2023

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It's your birthday tomorrow Mum, you're going to be 69. You're now only about 3½ years away from the age your own Mum, dear Nan, was when she passed away. Following the struggle of what to get you for Christmas, only a couple of weeks ago, we have really struggled to come up with birthday gifts for you. At one time, not so many years ago, you were easy to buy for - heck, you'd give us loads of ideas, and even a list to pick things from. You were still listening to music, watching TV shows and DVDs, and reading books. You were still going out and trying to enjoy life.

But now I feel like the best gift would be a T-Shirt with "I'm really ill, I've given up, and that's all I want to talk about (when I'm not being a bitch)" emblazoned on it. You have become so, so old Mum. You have done it to yourself - let it happen. Your illness is of your own making, and also of your own choosing is the way you still seek to control everything and everyone in some attempt to force us all into your truly messed-up little hell-world. The worst thing of all is that, so powerful are you and your influence, that you are succeeding in making those closest to you miserable. Constantly worried, sleepless, fearing what we will hear you have done next. Attacked Dad again, made him bleed some more..? Used the back garden as a toilet? Screamed obscenities as loud as you can into the street..?

And you're supported by a man who will do anything, even lie through his teeth for you because he knows no other life. What was once admirable, life-long devotion on his behalf is now absurd and foolishness. It is hard to feel sympathy for either of you. This is the life you've led, this is the end result of that life. Well done!

Your Jekyll and Hyde act is good enough to make us feel completely like liars when we meet with the doctors, the psychologists, the community care workers, when you're all smiles and positive with them and they say - yes, just a bit of depression and anxiety, when we all know it's much more than that. We are all so angry and frustrated, but at the same time, feel desperately hopeless... powerless - you hold us in this terrible air-less limbo, you evil woman, you know exactly what you're doing, don't you? It is not dementia, you've been tested. This is a ramping up of how you've been all your life.

I have never felt so utterly hopeless and depressed as I have done these past couple of years... because I have some of the crap you have, inside of me, in my head. It is horrible. I would rather die than turn into what you have become. I struggled with depression much of my life, and I cannot cope with you or the thought of becoming you. I do not have any strength in me these days. I feel like a spent force. It is all I can do to make it through each day. Christmas was a tremendous effort and worry, and I had so many sleepless or disturbed nights worrying, having nightmares, about what you were going to be like during the 'festive' season.

But you do not know me. You have never tried to know me. Neither has Dad. You only know the me you want to know. I must be such a disappointment.

It is hard to feel anything for you anymore, but that pretense must be maintained... for just a bit longer. Keep on smoking the way you are, and who knows..? Careful what you wish for Mum - you're not going to like 'real' illness...

So... we got you old lady presents, and an old lady card for your birthday. You are not fun anymore - you are a black hole - you are misery and oppressive to be around. It did not have to be this way. it is an awful, awful game you are playing with us all. And I wish I had never been born, so your shit hadn't passed to me or my kids, and my sweet wife hadn't had such a broken human being as her husband.