The Key to Purgatory

Arizona has been a good move for me, difficult though it was.  Ohio did not have a future for me, and I felt it, but moving was unthinkable!  My entire life has been lived in Ohio; it is hard to leave what you know.  Especially when you are heading toward something you have no clue about.  I think I cried the entire first week!  Although I only had what I could carry in my car, it took me more than a month to unpack.  Every box I unpacked sent my move closer to a reality I wasn’t ready to face.  I would wake up in the morning and think “I’ll go to Belden Village Mall today” (in Canton, OH.)  Then I would remember where I am and what a long drive it would be.  I ignored the feeling that followed. 

One preplanned event after the next did not emerge as I envisioned, so fear, panic and depression set in.  I honestly did not know if I could build a life that did not include caring for someone else.  I only had Angel and me to care for, and I wasn’t sure I could do it.  Raising children is an incredible responsibility, and I did what I had to do to give them the best life I could. I couldn’t love myself, but I loved them.  Could I do the same thing for myself?  I didn’t know.  I thought I would probably wind up homeless, unable to think enough of myself to do what I had done for my girls.  I have faced a lot of demons in my life, and sometimes I get tired of fighting them all the time.  I am predisposed toward depression, which can spiral downward from feeling a little sad or blue into depths of darkness few have experienced.  It doesn’t take much to go down that far, and I don’t always know I signed up for the ride.  Getting back out of that place is a long, arduous and frightening climb.  For every notch up I travel, I slide back a little bit.  Sometimes, I slide back a lot. 

I had a great deal to think about.  I was still coming to terms with my childhood, and how I was going to let go of the past when the past lives with me every day.  This type of healing happens in many stages, and I am sure I will revisit this on another day.  I can honestly say I did not love my father, and had not loved him for many years.  Any love I had for him, any need for his acceptance and approval died when the full memory returned of what he had done to me.  I hold my breath sometimes, waiting for the next horrific memory to emerge, but I don’t think any more will.  I don’t have any more dark spots on my heart, there is no emptiness left in my soul.  There is no sadness lingering in my spirit.  I am clean, light and free at last.  I am free.

The final piece of my torment was my mother, and coming to terms with her.  I think it was easier with my father because he alienated the love a daughter has for her father.  Hands down, without a doubt, he was a monster in a man’s body.  He was a sexual predator.  Whatever his childhood may have been, he knew what he was doing to me was wrong.  Incest is taboo in every culture I am aware of.   I had to rise above the man he was, to treat him in a manner consistent with who I was as a person, and what my values were.  But it wasn’t because I loved him; it was because I pitied him.  My father was the kind of man who would have been insulted by my pity if he had known.  That is OK, I was true to myself. 

My mother, however, was a much different story.  She was hard to come to terms with.  In the first place, I didn’t want to come to terms with her.  I had successfully avoided that subject for a long time, but it was now at the top of my list.  I still loved my mother, though I would not have admitted to it even a few months ago.  What my father did was unspeakable, and though the initial betrayal crumbled me, the betrayal did not run as deep once the love was gone.  Think of it this way, if a stranger steals the last $5.00 you needed to buy food for your children, how would you feel?  What if it was your best friend who stole that last $5.00?  The betrayal runs deeper and hurts far worse when you love someone.  Though my mother had not harmed me to the depths my father had, she was harder to forgive because I loved her.  It was a double edged sword, though.  Because I loved her, I needed to forgive her. 

So I went through that process.  Spirit is omnipotent and wise.  Spirit provided me with means to provide for myself (unemployment income) while I tackled the tough stuff.  Spirit is also infinitely patient, but when it is time to move to the next level, those provisions were removed.  That is how it has been my entire life.  What I needed was always provided for me.  How I utilized these gifts was always up to me.  If I wasn’t ready, then I got another chance to nurture my spirit at a later date.  The first contact I had with my mother happened while my life was still very transitory.  I didn’t know where it might lead, what direction I needed to go.  Citi began shortly after that first phone call. 

I had just been given a grasp on my life.  I realized I could take care of myself without having a pressing responsibility to answer to.  There was no one for me to care for, but my life suddenly had direction.  I had a future with goals in it again!  I am not out of the woods yet, I am still sleeping on an air mattress on the floor and I live in my “cave.”  It doesn’t matter, my life has a future it didn’t have a few months ago.  Any doubts I had about not being able to care for myself are gone.  I am a person separate from my girls!  Of course, I always have been, but I have faced challenges with my children that could be a book by itself.  Those stories may never be told, it really depends on the potential effect it could have on my daughters should those stories become public domain.  But experiences that intense tend to form a bond where individuals can easily lose their own separate identity.  I was able to ensure that loss did not happen to my girls, but I got lost in it.  I didn’t know how to function if I wasn’t protecting them. 

By moving away from my children, I was able to find my identity.  I was able to explore my capabilities, my strengths and forge a life for myself.  It is almost as if my life is truly just beginning.  This is the first time in my life I can live it for no one but myself!  I have secured an apartment, a job, and will be able to be who I am.  I can stand or fall on my own two feet.  That is so very empowering!  Some things are still the same; I have to force myself to socialize, and to be social.  At work I would much rather be alone than in the company of my co-workers.  Citi is not a company that permits a lot of isolation.  They are a very involved company with significant volunteer opportunities and they have an impressive employee support system.  The company culture is geared toward making Citi a place people want to work at, a place they look forward to attending.  The break room is bright and airy, well-kept and maintained.  Coffee and accompaniments are provided at no cost.  There are opportunities for socialization and fun nearly every week.  Pot luck lunches are quite common, which is organized at the individual team levels, but the company also sponsors celebrations like the upcoming visit from Santa Claus.  Members with children are welcome to bring their children to visit with Santa.  Maybe I will learn to be more social as time goes by.  I’m not sure working for this company will give me much of a choice! 

Nursing was almost autonomous.  We were really too busy most of the time to socialize, the break rooms were often poorly lit, in disrepair, dull and dismal.  You rarely were able to take breaks in tangent with another nurse, we all had our teams to run and each team had its own set of priorities.  Nursing at most facilities is not a supportive environment.  You may have your individual supporters, but from a management perspective, we were often in a position of disrespect.  Our needs as human beings were not often met, we were the brunt of anything that went wrong, and being written up for minor infractions was common.  We were treated as if we were disposable, and the stress of the job was not addressed from a supportive mode, we just were expected to buck up and take whatever was thrown at us.  We were disrespected by our peers, doctors, patients and their families but most of all, management.  There were no opportunities to form a connection with each other because you always had to be watching your back.  If you were lucky, one of your co-workers would help you out, but in the end you knew you were all alone.  The company culture at Citi is completely opposite from what I am used to. 

I reveled in my new life, and am excited at what my future might become.  My new freedom may be short lived, however, and this time it is by my choice.  I know I can care for myself now.  I know I can be independent.  I know I do not need someone to care for, or someone to depend on my in order for me to get up each morning.  Each step I take to grow my soul is more rewarding than the last.  Some people take for granted the lessons I had to work hard to learn.  What you do not learn in childhood, is much more difficult to learn as an adult.  I thought long and hard before I made the offer for my mother to come live with me.  It will require a significant sacrifice on so many levels on my part, with very little return for my efforts.  I don’t need my mother to live with me; I don’t need to care for her because my children are grown.  I do need to act on my convictions, and remain true to myself and what I value.  To do nothing is not an option.

My mother has not responded to my offer, I am guessing it probably knocked her off her feet!  I am certain it was the last thing she ever expected me to say.  Truthfully, if you had told me a month ago I would be comfortable with this idea I would have offered to drive you to the psych ward myself.  She needs time to process what I have offered, and is probably thinking of the details to get this done.  Forgiveness can sometimes be a private accomplishment, not requiring any action.  I could have ended my torment at just forgiving her, but I didn’t feel it was enough just to forgive.  This woman is my mother, a mother I love.  We both got shafted from any relationship we might have had.  I do not want the damage my grandfather did to my mother to be a life sentence without parole.  He already murdered the mother I might have had.  Without action on my part, that is what my grandfather sentenced my mother to.  He left her incapable of maturing beyond childhood, so badly hurt she could not express love or emotion, and so damaged, she would sabotage any relationship that had the possibility for her to be loved.  At some point, the power needs to be taken from my grandfather.  My mother was unable to fight for herself, she was unable to fight for me, so now there is no battle to fight, and it is my duty to fight for the both of us.  We both deserved better than what we got, but it does not have to end the way it began.

I am sure my mother gave up hope anyone would ever love her a very long time ago.  When I think of that, not only am I deeply saddened she had to live her life that way, but I am also impressed at her remarkable will to survive!  How many of us could function each day without a single person loving us?  I’m not sure I could.  My mother is a very strong woman.  There may have been more loving, easier ways for her to go about it, but she taught me to survive as well.  I am here today as a testament to her strength.  I’ll never know her motives behind her actions, if she treated me the way she did so I would be tough, and I would survive no matter what was thrown my way, but I do know I need to reach out the olive branch to her.  My mother does not need to come to the end of her life as she has lived her life….alone and without love. 

If my mother accepts my offer, I am not anticipating an easy time of it.  My best friend has offered all of her support in any way she can, including doing the phone calls to find social service agencies to help me obtain furniture or anything else I might need for my mother to live here.  I’m sure I will be calling her often when I am ready to tear my hair out at something my mother has said or done that is driving me up a wall.  There might not be enough Xanax to preserve my sanity!  But this much I do know.  If my mother accepts my offer and she can transition back to Spirit with one person beside her who loves her, my grandfather loses.  I have knocked the power out of my grandfather’s hand.  It is up to my mother to pick it up.  If she does, my grandfather will enter a deeper level of hell as we act in unity to destroy some of the demons he unleashed, and together we will wash away the evil they perpetrated and replace it with white light.  My mother will finally be released from purgatory.  It is long overdue.