as the weight of the situation comes to settle, my emotions begin searching for anything to connect something to.
my mother, 63 just recently, a product of hate and malice, one only experiences through a germanic tongue. denial, abuse, chaos
she was a gift from the turmoil, or a gift to the turmoil
i still cant tell.
after being abused as a child in a myriad of ways, she found alcohol, drugs and release. sad thing is 12 is not the age to be seeking such comforts.
fast forward the sadness and she is living with a boyfriend, who in the long run decides to blow his brains out in front of her, painting her in brain fragment and even more misery the likes of which most of us will never know...
maybe she pulled the trigger, who knows, another deposit for the drug booze bank and trust. and the children in her future.
along comes my dad, wet behind the ears, and chasing delusion. a willing candidate to be shown the dark side.
life seems to take a pleasant break from the brain fragments, vomit routine, and hung over guarantees.
a child comes along named anthony, innocent and capable as we all begin.
yet with one gift comes another,
the abuse lynne faced as a child became the story to which anthony would begin his life narration.
tender moments between wooden spoon beatings and slurred incoherent parenting advice. the mind of an infant will always remember what you said, or what you caused to feel
3 years of what i dont know....because here comes the nail in the coffin
the second child, this one a less planned, 'more gifted' surprise....me....
the product of a deadly womb, a steady diet of cocaine, negative thoughts, and alcohol poisoning.
maybe she was already down the tunnel of post partum depression, but something in the world changed when i came along..
i was simply the oil on the slope, or the wind that took away balance.
after emerging from essentially attempted murder i began my diagnosis of just what the fuck i had no choice in entering...
ugh, do we have to go through this again, wasnt the first time enough?? 'FUCK I WANT TO SLEEP, CHILD STOP CRYING BE LIKE YOUR BROTHER AND HERE IS SOME VODKA MILK THAT YOUR DAD DOESNT KNOW ABOUT'
i was in her care for merely 9 months before the walls of realization came crashing down around my father....his partner, his spouse, the mother to his 2 NEW children is more than unfit for duty, she threatens the very existence of the whole family...
i do remember a day in preschool, wondering why i was the only one left waiting for my parent. then swerving up the hill comes my dads car driven by my mom four sheets to the wind, nearly crashing into other cars. gleefully ready to pick up her incredible gift of a son.
i remember the look of horror on my teachers faces as they let me get into the car with my mother, barely coherent, slightly operating and very much behind the wheel. a couple of them decided to follow us home, maybe they wanted to see a drunk driver create a mess... somehow we made it.
or the time i dont remember, stuck in my high chair, screaming for hours, probably sitting in my own shit, hungry and possibly wanting out of this fucked arrangement. family to the rescue, anthony calls grandma who hears me wailing in the background, and tells her that 'mom is asleep on the floor and wont wake up'
my grandmother was trying to explain to my dad for years that this woman was not diabetic, she was a professional alcoholic.
the rest of my life is a series or reactions to the situation that was unfolding in front of my adolescent eyes.. the memories i would swallow and never allow to return, the feelings of hatred of self that would categorize all of my relationships, all of my experiences, and any future, i was 'given'
my youth years were spent exploring the feelings of anger and rage that were so readily available to me in endless supply.
sure i had good moments, but those always were a result of someone elses mis- fortune, or my own.
it feels good to watch the self that you hate, struggle, and never escape the cage it was grown in.
i was raised in alcoholics anonymous, my single grandmother, who pregnant at 20 after first time having sex, was as much as she could provide. it could be said, my grandmothers whole life was a balancing act to block out the actions of lynne. she did a good job
fast forward to mid twenties. i need to meet her, this engimatic figure who controls my life through no choice of my own...i wanted to live, i wanted to love, i wanted to be free.
long story short, i go to tucson, shes in the hospital with her mother and thats the scene to which i reunite with my biological mom, just like two friends who hadnt seen each other for a few years, ready to pick up with the small talk.
yet, decades of killing your memories, does not serve those which you may WANT to create. my mothers brain was an open window of information. you're doing what? you love whom? you've been where? stories ceased to have finality due to the guarantee that they would be news the next day.
this was the second time i lost my mom. my idealist young libertine mind did not want to accept that after all this struggle the answer was simply, 'theres nothing here for you'
sooo fast forward to recent times. once again, the restless feeling of, 'i need my mom to be something to me more than just a mistake' re-emerges and i begin to throw around ideas of a second unannounced, unplanned visit to her door step.
but the world always provides what you need when you need it.
a couple weeks back after going through the anguish of realizing my family is in no mind to allow me to help them, i am contemplating suicide. absolutely lining up my pills, writing my notes, and listening to other stories of people who had the bravery i so craved. at one point i experienced the warrior's fearlessness and managed to swallow 18 muscle relaxers, only my heart, and stomach had other plans.
i threw them up into my toilet, dizzy, fucked up from the pills and pretty pissed off that i would have to live another day
i cried myself to sleep curled up in front of the toilet, vomit and pharmaceutical residue all over me. no one home to find me, and putting every ounce of thought i had to eternal sleep.
but i woke up,
i didnt only wake up, something inside of me had lifted. at the time i couldnt experience it, as i was pretty hazy for 4-5 days after my suicide attempt. but things were different.
close friends of mine offered a chance to get outside of myself by going on an ego death trip.
basically eating enough mushrooms so that your brain MUST rebuild it's perception of who you are based on who you are. no pretenses, no self deprecating labels, ONLY who i am, the love, the light, the laughter.
during this trip i went to places i cant explain, even a prolonged experience of psychotic loop, keeping me caught in a never ending loop of bad memories, and pain...essentially unable to escape.
this was my glimpse into my brain, not my soul. and i promised myself, if i make it out of this, i will help those who are stuck here.
upon returning to reality, i was showered with a strange understanding. my mother's spirit was no longer with me, she was dead, and upon returning to my friends through sobbing eyes, and stuttered speech i said 'my mom is dead'
i couldnt explain it, but on august 17th i was proven to be aware of something which i hadnt been able to put stock into experiencing.
my mother came to me, and apologized for everything she couldnt keep from happening. and the details of her passing have solidified this for me
NOW FOR THE PART YOU MAY NOT WANT TO READ:
i received a message on facebook from a distant cousin mentioning that my uncle wanted to speak with me......this could only mean one thing, and that premonition i had nearly floored me, causing me to look for the closest seat, or soft place to collapse.
i spoke with maureen, the wife of my uncle and she explained to me what had occurred.
steven got a phone call from a neighbor saying that lynne had not been seen in some time..
naturally he went over to the house and was gifted the most unforgettable, terrible, no one should ever experience this moment. his sister, my mom was laying on the kitchen floor after about 5-6 weeks in the tucson heat, her body had been mutilated by the two cats she owned. other animals had forced entry into the house and also joined the feast.
millions of flies began to reside in the house, slowly spreading my mothers biomass all over the walls. the smell of the place must have been nearly deadly.
seeing the decomposed corpse of your sister, minus what nature felt it was owed. i can not imagine.
vodka bottles inhabited every corner of the house, and the mess took on many different moods...the feeling of death almost had it's own set of feelings.
here is the back story to which i can create to my own liking
my mothers mom, jessie was quite nearly a spawn of satan. through speaking with distant, and close family members, she did everything she could to cultivate spite, sadness and anger among herself and those forced to be close to her.
jessie did not want my brother or i to have ANYTHING, not a penny, it was my fathers fault we left, and her daughter could do nothing so horrible as to leave her children due to addiction.
so heres how i need to see this...
my mother did EVERYTHING she could to outlive her mother. jessie passed in january from bleeding to death....yeah you read that right, she bled to death, not internally, but out through her body...
the evil finally drained out of her, and ended her awful reign on this earth over those who she created
my mother knew she must pay for what she had done, and i can not think of a more punishing way to die.
as i am writing this tears are streaming down my face. tears of sadness, and regret, tears of joy and elation. my mother did her best, and was only a product of a bad equation.
she never wanted to hurt anyone, but was shown no other lense through which life could/should be lived.
she left me a house in tucson, granted an energetically soaked house, but an asset i suppose.
thank you lynn, im sorry we never had a true relationship and i hope to anything that you can live again in a less painful manner. your life had value and your struggles will not go in vain. rest in peace, because i already know you're resting in pieces.
my mother, 63 just recently, a product of hate and malice, one only experiences through a germanic tongue. denial, abuse, chaos
she was a gift from the turmoil, or a gift to the turmoil
i still cant tell.
after being abused as a child in a myriad of ways, she found alcohol, drugs and release. sad thing is 12 is not the age to be seeking such comforts.
fast forward the sadness and she is living with a boyfriend, who in the long run decides to blow his brains out in front of her, painting her in brain fragment and even more misery the likes of which most of us will never know...
maybe she pulled the trigger, who knows, another deposit for the drug booze bank and trust. and the children in her future.
along comes my dad, wet behind the ears, and chasing delusion. a willing candidate to be shown the dark side.
life seems to take a pleasant break from the brain fragments, vomit routine, and hung over guarantees.
a child comes along named anthony, innocent and capable as we all begin.
yet with one gift comes another,
the abuse lynne faced as a child became the story to which anthony would begin his life narration.
tender moments between wooden spoon beatings and slurred incoherent parenting advice. the mind of an infant will always remember what you said, or what you caused to feel
3 years of what i dont know....because here comes the nail in the coffin
the second child, this one a less planned, 'more gifted' surprise....me....
the product of a deadly womb, a steady diet of cocaine, negative thoughts, and alcohol poisoning.
maybe she was already down the tunnel of post partum depression, but something in the world changed when i came along..
i was simply the oil on the slope, or the wind that took away balance.
after emerging from essentially attempted murder i began my diagnosis of just what the fuck i had no choice in entering...
ugh, do we have to go through this again, wasnt the first time enough?? 'FUCK I WANT TO SLEEP, CHILD STOP CRYING BE LIKE YOUR BROTHER AND HERE IS SOME VODKA MILK THAT YOUR DAD DOESNT KNOW ABOUT'
i was in her care for merely 9 months before the walls of realization came crashing down around my father....his partner, his spouse, the mother to his 2 NEW children is more than unfit for duty, she threatens the very existence of the whole family...
i do remember a day in preschool, wondering why i was the only one left waiting for my parent. then swerving up the hill comes my dads car driven by my mom four sheets to the wind, nearly crashing into other cars. gleefully ready to pick up her incredible gift of a son.
i remember the look of horror on my teachers faces as they let me get into the car with my mother, barely coherent, slightly operating and very much behind the wheel. a couple of them decided to follow us home, maybe they wanted to see a drunk driver create a mess... somehow we made it.
or the time i dont remember, stuck in my high chair, screaming for hours, probably sitting in my own shit, hungry and possibly wanting out of this fucked arrangement. family to the rescue, anthony calls grandma who hears me wailing in the background, and tells her that 'mom is asleep on the floor and wont wake up'
my grandmother was trying to explain to my dad for years that this woman was not diabetic, she was a professional alcoholic.
the rest of my life is a series or reactions to the situation that was unfolding in front of my adolescent eyes.. the memories i would swallow and never allow to return, the feelings of hatred of self that would categorize all of my relationships, all of my experiences, and any future, i was 'given'
my youth years were spent exploring the feelings of anger and rage that were so readily available to me in endless supply.
sure i had good moments, but those always were a result of someone elses mis- fortune, or my own.
it feels good to watch the self that you hate, struggle, and never escape the cage it was grown in.
i was raised in alcoholics anonymous, my single grandmother, who pregnant at 20 after first time having sex, was as much as she could provide. it could be said, my grandmothers whole life was a balancing act to block out the actions of lynne. she did a good job
fast forward to mid twenties. i need to meet her, this engimatic figure who controls my life through no choice of my own...i wanted to live, i wanted to love, i wanted to be free.
long story short, i go to tucson, shes in the hospital with her mother and thats the scene to which i reunite with my biological mom, just like two friends who hadnt seen each other for a few years, ready to pick up with the small talk.
yet, decades of killing your memories, does not serve those which you may WANT to create. my mothers brain was an open window of information. you're doing what? you love whom? you've been where? stories ceased to have finality due to the guarantee that they would be news the next day.
this was the second time i lost my mom. my idealist young libertine mind did not want to accept that after all this struggle the answer was simply, 'theres nothing here for you'
sooo fast forward to recent times. once again, the restless feeling of, 'i need my mom to be something to me more than just a mistake' re-emerges and i begin to throw around ideas of a second unannounced, unplanned visit to her door step.
but the world always provides what you need when you need it.
a couple weeks back after going through the anguish of realizing my family is in no mind to allow me to help them, i am contemplating suicide. absolutely lining up my pills, writing my notes, and listening to other stories of people who had the bravery i so craved. at one point i experienced the warrior's fearlessness and managed to swallow 18 muscle relaxers, only my heart, and stomach had other plans.
i threw them up into my toilet, dizzy, fucked up from the pills and pretty pissed off that i would have to live another day
i cried myself to sleep curled up in front of the toilet, vomit and pharmaceutical residue all over me. no one home to find me, and putting every ounce of thought i had to eternal sleep.
but i woke up,
i didnt only wake up, something inside of me had lifted. at the time i couldnt experience it, as i was pretty hazy for 4-5 days after my suicide attempt. but things were different.
close friends of mine offered a chance to get outside of myself by going on an ego death trip.
basically eating enough mushrooms so that your brain MUST rebuild it's perception of who you are based on who you are. no pretenses, no self deprecating labels, ONLY who i am, the love, the light, the laughter.
during this trip i went to places i cant explain, even a prolonged experience of psychotic loop, keeping me caught in a never ending loop of bad memories, and pain...essentially unable to escape.
this was my glimpse into my brain, not my soul. and i promised myself, if i make it out of this, i will help those who are stuck here.
upon returning to reality, i was showered with a strange understanding. my mother's spirit was no longer with me, she was dead, and upon returning to my friends through sobbing eyes, and stuttered speech i said 'my mom is dead'
i couldnt explain it, but on august 17th i was proven to be aware of something which i hadnt been able to put stock into experiencing.
my mother came to me, and apologized for everything she couldnt keep from happening. and the details of her passing have solidified this for me
NOW FOR THE PART YOU MAY NOT WANT TO READ:
i received a message on facebook from a distant cousin mentioning that my uncle wanted to speak with me......this could only mean one thing, and that premonition i had nearly floored me, causing me to look for the closest seat, or soft place to collapse.
i spoke with maureen, the wife of my uncle and she explained to me what had occurred.
steven got a phone call from a neighbor saying that lynne had not been seen in some time..
naturally he went over to the house and was gifted the most unforgettable, terrible, no one should ever experience this moment. his sister, my mom was laying on the kitchen floor after about 5-6 weeks in the tucson heat, her body had been mutilated by the two cats she owned. other animals had forced entry into the house and also joined the feast.
millions of flies began to reside in the house, slowly spreading my mothers biomass all over the walls. the smell of the place must have been nearly deadly.
seeing the decomposed corpse of your sister, minus what nature felt it was owed. i can not imagine.
vodka bottles inhabited every corner of the house, and the mess took on many different moods...the feeling of death almost had it's own set of feelings.
here is the back story to which i can create to my own liking
my mothers mom, jessie was quite nearly a spawn of satan. through speaking with distant, and close family members, she did everything she could to cultivate spite, sadness and anger among herself and those forced to be close to her.
jessie did not want my brother or i to have ANYTHING, not a penny, it was my fathers fault we left, and her daughter could do nothing so horrible as to leave her children due to addiction.
so heres how i need to see this...
my mother did EVERYTHING she could to outlive her mother. jessie passed in january from bleeding to death....yeah you read that right, she bled to death, not internally, but out through her body...
the evil finally drained out of her, and ended her awful reign on this earth over those who she created
my mother knew she must pay for what she had done, and i can not think of a more punishing way to die.
as i am writing this tears are streaming down my face. tears of sadness, and regret, tears of joy and elation. my mother did her best, and was only a product of a bad equation.
she never wanted to hurt anyone, but was shown no other lense through which life could/should be lived.
she left me a house in tucson, granted an energetically soaked house, but an asset i suppose.
thank you lynn, im sorry we never had a true relationship and i hope to anything that you can live again in a less painful manner. your life had value and your struggles will not go in vain. rest in peace, because i already know you're resting in pieces.
1 comment:
I believe people are linked. That we can share consciousness with those not present. Know what they are thinking. Know when they have died. Clearly this is something you have directly experienced. Maybe she did somehow know, too, the talented, insightful, observant man she produced. Maybe she knew none of it was to her credit, and by the time she was able to make any direct impact on your adult life she might have known she was not worthy of that contact. These are human assumptions, but now the peace of the universe can enter this situation. We are all veering towards our next incarnations, that next life will be here in the blink of an eye. If she is in a place where she now knows everything, I can only hope that she understands just how special you turned out to be. I'm happy for your new beginning. The world is ready for you.
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