Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Something she can't take away

These days I’m so tired that I don’t even feel like writing, what’s the point of writing when I feel so tired I mean usually I push through the exhaustion because the writing feels so important, even or maybe especially the writing about exhaustion, but right now I just don’t feel like it and so I’m wondering about the difference. Maybe I’m more tired or less inspired or less inspired because I’m more tired, but the good news is that I just listened to this feldenkrais CD about the nose or equalizing the breathing and now everything seems brighter, the text on the screen is sharper and maybe I even have more energy. Although I don’t know what to do with this energy, and I guess that means I’m depressed. Maybe I want to write about my mother, I mean I’m still trying to get her to create this account for me, and she’s still trying to tell me she’s not going to do it. The latest idea is that it’ll make her bankrupt by the time she’s 78,supposedly her financial planners said that and she’s not sure why but it’s what they said, right?

Here we are on the phone, and suddenly she’s asking me when we’re going to talk again. I thought we were talking now, didn’t we arrange this time to talk? She says I’m distracted because I’m watching the entertainment for the inauguration, so when can we talk again?

It seems like it was a longtime ago when I didn’t want anything from my mother, I mean when I didn’t want anything from my parents at all, or at least nothing that tied me to them. That was before all of this pain and exhaustion, or before all of this pain and exhaustion became so overwhelming, or before all of this pain and exhaustion became so overwhelming that I didn’t know how I could function. I mean I don’t know. And so, in knowing this, knowing that I don’t know how I can function on a daily basis, knowing that my father’s dead and my mother inherited all of his money, knowing all this I’ve asked my mother to create this account to pay my basic expenses. I guess it’s been two years since we started having these discussions, since my mother started saying yes and then no and then maybe and then yes and then no. Of course there’s a part of me that wants to give up, to go back to things that might be familiar or find other options, and there’s another part of me that doesn’t want to give up until I get something, something substantial, something substantial and permanent, something permanent from my mother who never gave me anything that felt like safety.

Of course there’s a part of me that thinks it’s crazy to imagine that my mother might give me something that helps me to dream, crazy because she’s the problem the root and who am I kidding when I act like the problem can be part of the solution? Except that still I want something, even if I get just a part of what I want maybe it feels worth it, even if meanwhile she’s waiting for my grandmother to die she brings it up in our conversation cut short by the inauguration entertainment, remember my mother is in DC she says she thought of going out but it’s too crowded to drive, she went to the subway but it was overwhelming so she came home. On the radio, it says there’s a celebration at 14th and U, a historic black neighborhood the site of tensions during the riots in 1968. My mother lives at 14th and P, formerly a black neighborhood now a white yuppie enclave like 14th and U but anyway she’s waiting for my grandmother to die. But she’s not going to die anytime soon, my mother says—there’s nothing seriously wrong with her -- and no one’s going to get any money from her until she dies.

Meanwhile, it’s my mother who has the money -- my mother who I’m still waiting for -- I’m pretty sure she’ll never be accountable for sexually abusing me, she’ll probably never acknowledge the full range of her or my father’s abuse, but at least if she creates this account then she’s given me something other than violence that she can’t take away.


Anonymous said...

I can totally relate to how you feel. Therapists sometimes use the metaphor of "trying to tap a dry well" to refer to efforts to get something from parents like your mom. What sucks is that in your case the well isn't's just cold-hearted, narcissistic, and STINGY. I am so sorry that your mother treats you like that. It must be so incredibly demoralizing. I hope you end up getting what you deserve from her. It's the least (the VERY least) she could do.

mattilda bernstein sycamore said...

Pink Panther, thank you thank you thank you for so much understanding and insight and support, sometimes when I write things about my mother and what I want I just feel so lost...

Love --