Enough time has passed that I can read my mom's journals without curling up in the fetal position and crying for hours. I consider this to be progress.
I didn't know until recently just how much writing she left behind.
It saddens me to think that there's probably a great deal more that is lost forever.
Mom would've been a great blogger- her journals are good reading, ( my brother and I are the only ones who shall read them, so you'll have to take my word) and they are part of the giant life-puzzle I've been wrestling with for years. Answers and clues. More puzzles.
I've always wondered where my creative energy came from- except for my twin and my surviving maternal uncle ,my entire family is pretty artless and creativity-free. We're not a stupid family, but we are boring as shit in many ways.
Not Mom.
She retreated from the world for decades , living in tiny cabins (and one nice house) in Utah, Montana and Wyoming; working shit jobs and drinking heavily. I can understand why she did that, it's something I can see in myself- but I'll resist that temptation as long as I can. Forever, I hope.
What I didn't know was that she had immersed herself in a world of words during this time- her journals are full of long passages from books, meticulously copied in her perfect handwriting with detailed attributions to the author and book in most cases. A sort of hyperlink to the writer's mind , I suppose. I think it was the only way she could feel connected to a world she no longer felt was hers- the parallels to what she was doing then and what my life was in grave danger of becoming are striking and undeniable. Her voice is my warning.
Mom's guardian angel worked a lot of overtime.
Here's a Mom story that recent Dick Cheney news reminds me of (using my words, not hers) :
When we were little kids (b. 1966), drunk-driving was considered more of a lifestyle choice than a crime and our parents were both enthusiastic hobbyists . One day, Mom found herself in court, hung-over and exhausted no doubt- facing a DUI charge for the umpteenth time. (This was before breathalyzers, so it was easier to beat the rap then)
The Judge asked her how many beers she had consumed before she was pulled over.
"Fifteen or twenty?", said 110 lb. Mom, "I'm not sure exactly."
"You aren't sure?", queried the incredulous judge.
"No, your Honor. I was shit-faced and can't remember a thing."
There was a long silence while the judge pondered this.
"Mrs. C", he finally said, "I've been sitting on this bench for twenty years and every drunk-driver I've ever tried has told me that they only had ONE drink-with a meal. You are the first person who has ever looked me in the eye and told the God's honest truth. Keep yourself out of trouble. Case dismissed."
And that, as they say, was that.
Until much, much later, anyway.
2 comments:
lol I love that court story. It's funny because you would think that's not a good story because of the drunk driving/court/etc but at the same time it sounds like a story that would be a good family story to share with future generations hehe.
The paragraphs you wrote about your mom's feelings of isolation - that really resonated with me. I have a wonderful husband and children, and a few really good friends, but I don't feel a strong sense of community if you know what I mean. Sure I can "get together" with different people for various functions, but it doesn't feel real to me most of the time. I feel like so many are content with that kind of life of unmeaningful connections, but it just saddens me. I do it though because I don't want to become isolationist since I have children. I had very severe depression in my early 20s that of course I didn't seek treatment for. With my autoimmune disorder and the thyroid replacement hormones I have to take daily, I have come to respect the power of hormones. I know I am predisposed to depression, so I monitor it all the time to make sure I don't succumb to it. So sometimes I think my perceptions are just my hormones talking, but I think that is also an excuse I use to try to wrap my mind around how so many human beings interact with one another when we have the potential for so much more.
S, I think there are more people who feel like that than we'll ever know. You don't need to live in a remote wilderness to be isolated. Having a condition that requires constant vigilance makes it harder (to do everything),but you are facing it courageously whether you realize that or not.
Would that more people do the same.
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