Last night, I was talking to my mom. My father had been in a minor fender bender while in a taxi, which is bad, yes, but he didn’t even need to go to the hospital. Still, I was properly sympathetic because it’s scary to be in any kind of car accident for most people. Me, I ended up comforting the young woman who ran into the driver side of the front of my car, but I’m a weirdo. Plus, I am really fucking good in a crisis because I’m always prepared for something disastrous.
After she talked about that to her heart’s content with me ‘uh-huh’ing and ‘oh, that’s scary’ing, we turned to the topic of how hard the last three years have been in general. She said that the pandemic had been the worst thing. I immediately said, “I died last year. That was pretty bad for me!” Twice, by the way, as I never tire of saying. I died twice.
My mother immediately glossed it over by saying how grateful they were that I had survived (presuming she meant herself and my father), but that did not redeem the statement to me. When I messaged Ian about it later, he responded by asking if they did not realize that it had been a traumatic experience for me?
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. My parents realizing that something may have affected someone who wasn’t them? Ha! Surely, you jest. Even in that statement, it was about her and not really about me. It’s hard to explain the difference, but trust me, she was talking about how it had affected her and not me.
It’s similar to how the second day I was home, my father and I got into an argument about me having someone live with me. He was pushing it, and I was saying I didn’t want it. He raised his voice and yelled, “You don’t know how hard it was for your mother and me!”
Excuse me? I don’t know how hard me dying twice and having walking non-COVID-related pneumonia that triggered two cardiac arrests and an ischemic stroke was on YOU????? When I said, “How hard it was on YOU?”, he started blustering and attacking me for daring to question him.
That is how my parents roll so my mother glossing over me dying last year was not a surprise. I thought it was funny in a bitter way, and I tried to explain it to Ian. My mother is a very unreliable narrator and her way of dealing with things she doesn’t like is to forget they happen. I don’t think she’s pretending, either. When they were here, we had a huge, flaming row. It started with my father shouting at my mother, and she ran into the living room where I was (probably because she wanted me to take the heat instead). It was an ugly and terrible fight. It was really scraping the bottom of the barrel when it came to ugly. Later, my father wanted to tell my brother what happened. I didn’t want him to because I knew that he would lie about it and I did not want to hear it.
My father insisted and, yup. He lied about it. Later, my mother told me he was upset because I had tried to shut him up (which I had). She said I should apologize to him and I looked at her like she had lost heer head.
The next day, she sent me an email saying I should apologize. When I confronted her about it, she said she knew I would be upset. Then why the fuck send it? She said I shouted at my father. I reminded her sharply that he yelled first. And that he accused her of stealing his money (he has dementia in addition to being an all-around asshole). She admitted that she had forgotten about that and it had just happened the day before.
So both my parents pretty much just make up shit without compunction. I do believe that they both think it’s what is actually real, but that makes it worse–not better. At least if I felt that they were lying to me, but not to themselves, theoretically, we could get on the same page. Because I don’t think that’s the case, there’s no reason to try to talk to them about it.
Back to me dying. I think it was too uncomfortable for my mother to think about–that’s why she glossed right over it. In addition, she wasn’t here for the first week so she didn’t see that part of it. Yes, my brother Zoomed her and my father into my hospital room, but she didn’t see me in person until I woke up. I can understand why that would make it seem less real than if she had been here since day one.
Thank god she wasn’t, by the way. She would have made things so much worse with her weeping and wailing. I’m profoundly grateful that my brother was the one who took charge because he’s a capable person who just got things done. He and I once talked about what would have happened if my mother had been here and in charge, and it made us both laugh ruefully.
She would have pesteered the doctors until they got irritated with her and tried to fob her off. Plus, she would have been keening at my bedside (which she did when I was awake) and clutching at me in a clausterphobic way (which she also did while I was awake. She kept stroking my face and freaking me the fuck out. She believes touch heals. I–do not. At least when it’s not wanted or asked for).
By the way, that last parenthetical was horrifying. I was drugged out of my mind, and my mother wouldn’t stop caressing me. I wanted to tell her to stop, but I couldn’t make myself do it. I hated it. I hated it so much. I wanted to crawl out of my skin and flee. I will always be grateful to the nurse for making her back up and telling her that COVID rules were she had to be at least six feet away from me. I’m pretty sure he was just reacting to the sheer panic he saw on my face and it did get her off me.
He looked at me and told me thtat family did not HAVE to be allowed to visit. I silently thanked him for looking out for me. I didn’t have the nerve to bar my parents, but he made it more bearable. Would I if I felt empowered to do so? Yes. In a heartbeat.
So, honestly, my mother forgetting that I had died last year did not surprise me in the least. It’s so on brand for her, I would have been more surprised if she had mentioned it. And when I mentioned it, the fact that she brought it back to her was not surprising, eeither. The family dysfunction is deep, and it’s difficult to explain without sounding crazy. I’m done for now, but I’ll certainly return to the subject in future posts. I can’t seem to help myself.