My Mom said that about me. The year before she died she spent a lot of time living with us. Three adults, a preschooler, a big dog and eventually a newborn. 860 square feet. It was close quarters. One day I came down the steps from our bedroom ( where everyone except my Mom slept) to hear her on the phone. She was talking to one of the many people that my Granny had fostered. Someone who had been a part of my family for as long as I could remember. She was telling this trusted much loved person that I was awful. It took my breath away, it made me nauseous. I sucked in my horror and walked by pretending I hadn't heard. She was right.
I don't recall the exact date. I was either newly pregnant, very pregnant or I had a sick newborn. It was stressful. Living with my dying mother was stressful. I was not managing things very well. She wanted to go to lunch, or go shopping and I just wanted to go home and hide. I was doing my level best to be pleasant and not give in to the intense desire to scream or cry. But of course she couldn't see that. She could only see that I wasn't any fun. That my tone was unkind. I was doing my best, but it was not good enough. She didn't see the number of times I bit my lip to not say something mean. The number of times I hid in the bedroom so that I didn't just demand that everyone get out of my house. She was dying and she couldn't see me. She could only see that I was awful.
I am sure I was hard to live with. We were all living under an extreme amount of strain from all directions. And I think, we were all trying to be good, trying to make the last days and the first days and all the days in between bearable. Possibly even fun, sometimes.
It breaks my heart to think that my Mom's last impressions of me were awful. I am beyond sorry that I could not have been a better person, but the real honest truth is that I couldn't. I was doing everything in my power to keep my family alive and afloat. I did not have any more to give. I don't feel guilty about it anymore. I have limits, like everyone. I don't have to be superhuman. Just human. Sometimes human isn't good enough, and that is ok too.
4 comments:
I love your honesty in this piece, Carmen. So often we try to pretty it all up and make ourselves out to be the shero. Your expressed humanity, in your hurt at hearing your mother's opinion of you and that you did the best you could at that time, is so refreshing. Not to mention, well written. ( which always gets extra points in my estimation!) Thanks for this beautiful piece. xo
Shirley S heart emoticon we all have our times. I know for certain that you are not awful.
Heidi G Thank you Carmen! I really, really needed this today. I'm feeling like an awful daughter. You are not awful - you are human, and that is always, always good enough. I am glad you don't feel guilty about it any more. Those were dark, difficult, painful, and frightening days. heart emoticon
Carolyn C I was church friends with a very special retired bishop who shared with me his opinion about love particularly in a marriage--he was married for more than 50 years. I found it interesting because he did not make love out to be saccharine sweet, instead he emphasized that it is a commitment and not always an easy journey with things we have to go through. In sickness and dying--I'm sure your mom knew she was getting good care and I'm sure she appreciated it too. She probably was just venting frustration, which can happen to anyone...
Sally V You were not and are not awful in any way. Her situation was awful and those were the only eyes she could look through at the time. You are amazing and I have a feeling you always have been.
Katherine S All any of us can do is handle what we're given as best we can. Sounds like you were being there for a lot of people at that time, while not feeling your best. I've been there too, and had some terrible moments with both parents during their illnesses. I have hope that connecting with others who have felt these things can help all us humans be kind to ourselves when we look back.
Martie J Thank you
LeAnn O heart emoticon heart emoticon heart emoticon
Jamia H Huge hugs to one of the most honest and beautiful women I know.
Melanie H It's not about the moments, though. It's about the lifetime. Sure, she was annoyed, but that's not what she takes with her to the next place. heart emoticon
Kerry M I want to be you when I grow up.
Seumas G You know people have tried to convince me that I'm allowed to be imperfect. I think it's a trick. Also: Thirteen electrum stars for telling hard truths.
Nan P You are not awful. The time was awful. When I was in my last two years of college and having bipolar cycles (didn't know this at the time, though), housemates and I had what we called "finals forgiveness"--during finals, we agreed that we were going to be difficult and to overlook it in each other. It helped.
Vickie K Those were days of pure frustration for all of you, except maybe for Ringo. With all the conversations that I had with Susan, you were always the highlight of her life. She was extremely proud of you and respected your thoughts and ideas for life. You gave her a reason to want to live. She was truly happiest and always looked forward to seeing you. Now this is after college Carmen, I don't know what it was like when your father was alive. Yet in her ending days you made her extremely happy and proud. You did all the right things, through the tiny house, being pregnant, a big dog and a husband. No matter what you were there, being a care taker. Not all days are perfect or pretty. There should be no regrets. She loved you. You love her. No regrets.
Carmen, beautiful writing, as always. On this the first day of my 70th year, I will tell you something that I have learned the hard way -- to practice forgiveness. First and foremost, to forgive myself for my own imperfections. Second to forgive others for theirs. It doesn't mean that you become a patsy nor that you don't try to hold yourself to a high standard. True perfection is reserved for beings not of this world. In my belief system, there has been only one and he forgave to the very end.
Blessings on you for your honesty. Love, Mary
I was going to say "that must have really sucked" but ended up liking Mary F's (above) comment better: it's time to forgive yourself.
Hugs and warmth to you,
Laura
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