Bye Mom!: Part 2

I told you guys it would be a lot and there is still a lot. I may forget things but I will go back and edit. In all fairness to my Mom, I did talk about my brother in the last blog so it’s not exactly 2 full blogs about her but who knows this blog could end up 10 minutes. Okay so anyway, let me tell you a little bit of the phone call with my Mom last night. She said she would bet me One million dollars that I go manic and end up back in the hospital at some point! The very end of the conversation, I asked her if she wants a relationship with me? I think she did say yes at that point. But fast forward a little and she yelled..maybe you should ask yourself if you want a relationship with me and you need to go see your therapist and have someone else in your life! And I ended with, Fuck you bitch. In that moment, I felt like that is what I needed to say and I don’t regret my last words to my Mom. There is no going back now. I am not apologizing again. After every time I have said I didn’t want my Mom in my life, I always just forgave her for everything she has done to me even though she would never say sorry or take any accountability. I may have never said sorry after being in crisis, because I can’t control my brain and things I say. Something I brought up on the phone again was about a time she took me to the hospital, because I was having flashbacks of being raped in the hospital (when I was 22 years old) and had a manic episode. Yes, she made a point that she came and got me and took me to the hospital. But as we waited in the waiting area for me to go back to a holding area, my Mom was just getting so pissed and irritated that is was taking too long. She was giving me more anxiety. At one point I was on the floor on my stomach with my legs crossed. I just wanted her to leave, because I knew the nurses there and knew they would take great care of me. They assured us I was getting a bed. I yelled to my Mom, Please just get the Fuck out! And she said..I’m not bringing you your conditioner and slippers. Then she told people and still sticks to the story that I was up in her face and at one point she said I tried to hit her. She thinks I can’t remember everything in crisis. I was at least 10 feet away. She just likes to play the victim. So your daughter is in crisis, needs to be hospitalized, and you aren’t going to help your daughter at all because she said the F word. You’d rather her have dread locks like she has in the past and cracked heels.You accepted my bi-polar diagnosis when I was 22 I believe and so you should know that I can’t control my mind when I’m “manic”. (I write you and you’d because I know she is reading this so I am speaking to my Mom). On the phone my Mom yelled that she would do it again! She would not bring my conditioners and slippers again. And she did do again after that. October 2024 I was in the hospital for a total of 46 nights. My Dad bought me new clothes and socks and brought them to me the first time. When I was there for about 23 nights, none of my family brought me pants, underwear, shirts, brush, socks, slippers or anything. My sister said she knew they would give me what I needed. If she was there for 23 nights, she would want clothes and a sweat shirt and socks and underwear. They only provided gowns at that hospital. Luckily there was a pair of comfy pants and a black long sleeve shirt with a silver owl on it. That was meant to be, because when I think of owls I think of my Grams who passed away. An owl is my logo and a tattoo now. There is so much more that I want to write by I am so tired and just want to lay down for a bit. Okay I am back. On the phone call last night I also was talking to her or yelling at her about how she did not support me when I took pills after my divorce. She said on the phone she doesn’t even remember that happening. I was angry and depressed and wanted to kill myself after my divorce. I didn’t have it planned out so don’t think I even had enough pills. But my point is, I called my Mom and told her I took too many pills. She rushed over with my younger teenage sister at the time. My Mom walked right past me to the counter with the pills. She didn’t even give me a hug. My sister have me a big hug. My Mom was just pissed that I had to go to the hospital cause I took too many pills. I am sure she was scared as she was when I tried to take my own life last October. I am not saying she wasn’t, but she lacks empathy when it comes to my mental illness. But she said she couldn’t even remember after my divorce in 2013 or maybe before the divorce was final in 2012. I knew I was going to have to foreclose on my house. Which brings me to my next story. My second house was the last house on the left of a cul de sac.. One time when I was 26 years old, I was volunteering at a friends’ elementary class cause I wanted to be a teacher. I came home in my mustang convertible in the middle of the day. I had gone to the grocery store on my way home and had groceries in my car. I opened the garage door and saw that a paint can was holding the door open to my house. I knew 100% someone broke into my house. I got so scared and did not pull into the garage of course. Instead of calling 911 or calling my Dad who would have told me to call 911, I called my Mom. She said go in the house and I will stay on the phone with you! What the actual fuck?! And I listened to her. I was so scared and could have easily been shot in the head. I had a lot of money from selling my first house. I had long blonde hair and had just lost a lot of weight and had touch up surgery. I know my Mom was having financial trouble, because after I got out of the hospital sometime when I was 26 I found a note at her house that she had written to her mortgage company saying she was behind on her mortgage because she had to take care of her sick daughter. I had at least maybe about $50,000 plus my house and car. I can’t think she is that evil though to want her one daughter dead for money and so she can play the victim? That is something only my Mom and God knows. She obviously never would admit that. I don’t think she is that evil though, but once in awhile I think about it. When I asked her about it on our last phone call, she said she wasn’t thinking. She was dumb and not thinking. When I opened the garage door, luckily I scared away the burglars who the cop later said were probably just kids. They tagged my counter with purple marker and took one Christmas present. They broke my back sliding glass door. But it wasn’t bad enough to pay someone to fix it. I kept the insurance money. The cop obviously told me to never go in a house that has been broken into. That’s all I am going to write right now. It is now Wednesday night at 8:17pm. I have more to write about my Mother but I will stop for now again.