mental

this is one of those posts i feel a little weird about, but one of my sisters urged me to blog about this. sometimes blogging is a way to talk about things that don't come up in everyday conversation. at times being open about my life has created an opportunity for someone else to talk about something similar in their life that they wouldn't normally talk about, or maybe have never talked about.

this is about my mother. not my stepmom that raised me, but the woman that gave birth to me. it's always awkward to talk about her because she's mentally ill, and if people don't know me, or aren't familiar with my background they rarely know what to say or how to respond. most of the time if i talk about her it's because i'm laughing about something she said or did, and i don't think people are quite sure it's okay to laugh, or maybe they think i'm sick to laugh about this stuff. i don't know.

i didn't grow up with my mom. she lost custody of us when i was a few months old, when she and my dad split. we were in foster care for a while, which i don't remember consciously, being less than a year old, and then dad got us. my earliest memory of my mother is her smacking my face when i was about 2½. she was holding me and i think i touched her chest, and that's why. i remember being somehow aware, in a two-year-old way, that she didn't know what she was doing and that she wasn't all there. later on she was committed a few times, which i didn't know about until i was older, and at one point she was homeless for several years.

my later memories of her are of the few times she visited us after we moved to oregon, and once or twice seeing her when we visited family in california. when i was about 10 or 11 her aunt and uncle died and left her a bunch of money. she flew each of us down in turn to visit her, and right about that time she stopped taking her meds. i'm the youngest, so i went down last, maybe a year to a year and a half after my oldest sister went to visit. by the time i got there her behavior was very strange, and she would get irrationally upset and agitated about nothing at all. looking back i see how traumatic that was for me, and after that visit my dad decided we would never visit her without him there. it was not terribly long after that she was homeless. she was really angry with my dad always, and did things like washing our school photos to get his influence off of us.

when my grandpa died she inherited more money and rented two apartments, one for herself and one for us kids, and furnished them both. we never saw the apartment, and the state of california would never have let her care for us, so when i found out about it (years later) i found it deeply disturbing that she let her fantasy so dominate her reality that she actually put resources toward the illusion. needless to say, she didn't have any of the money she inherited for very long.

since becoming an adult, and interacting with her on that level, it has been interesting to realize how much she milks the mentally ill thing. she doesn't like to take meds, so she doctor hops to avoid any diagnosis that requires meds. there's always meds involved, so she goes with whoever will give her the lowest dose. but then she gets really bizarre and eventually put into a care-home or institution. she's gotten to where she'll say whatever she thinks the doctor wants to hear.

she kindof does that with us kids, too. it's hard to talk to her because she likes things to go a certain way, and if they don't she gets really upset. she'll say something completely untrue right to me, and when i gently challenge her on it she'll try to change the subject. i don't have any relationship with her because there's nothing there with which to have the relationship. it's hard to know what to do, how to 'honor my mother' and what that really looks like with her.

but in spite of all that i still find myself amused by some of my interaction with her. i think it's a gift from God that i can laugh. i've always found the humor in even the most serious of scenerios, and mom's stuff is no exception. i know God still needs to heal some things in my heart that are connected to the whole mom thing, and i've had to do quite alot of forgiving to get to this point. i don't know where i'd be without a sense of humor, however warped it may be.

she writes letters that have me in stitches, not because the situation is funny, but because she's so random and yet so predictable. in every letter she talks about how God promised her a financial miracle, not thinking that maybe all the inheritance money she got all those years ago might be it. she always mentions the trials, and she always says something funny about her roommate. and among those things are the random bits that keep me laughing out "what in the world...?" through the entire letter.

at my sister's prompting i've included her latest below. when you get to the end and think i spelled p.s. wrong, i didn't. that's what she wrote. also when you get to the very end remember that her name is kelly and i have no idea what she's talking about with that last line.

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dear sheena,

i'm sorry i missed you at christmas. your sister and i had christmas together with her boyfriend and his daughter. it was at his mother's house and it was so nice. we had prime rib (your sister cooked). i had a bad cold.

it's about birthday time again. january 20th! you were the greatest gift God ever gave me!!!!
i've been having some trials. i've waited all my life to be with you and my money hasn't got here yet but i'm still believing God for a financial miracle. i was so broke i didn't have shoes and socks. i've been so broke for so long i can hardly afford jack-in-the-box. God promised me a financial miracle so i can spend time with you.

my roommate is a wonderful friend and a beautiful black sister. she really is nice and treats me well and is a goodroommatee. she was born in switzerland and lived in nyc. her family is all dead and she's never been married. we have this rug/throw on the floor that says...

dear God be good to me...the sea is so wide and my boat is so very small.

this month i'm doing a drug study (not as bad as it sounds) in the hospital. i go in for 2½ or 3 weeks. they get us pizza, take us to the mall and spend $ on us, give us headphones (sony) to keep. we get phone cards, soda etc. they pay $25 per day and i hear its really fun. they try us on medication very close to what we take. i'm going to take some of the money and start saving so i can come see you this summer.

well i guess its all for now. i have Jesus and He is a wonderful husband to me. i don't want another husband.

guess that's all for now. happy birthday and i'll call you after my study.

love,
mama

p.j. just call me hanna

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