I managed to go 49 days without contact. I went from mom's bday until Good Friday. We were leaving for a pleasant week away and I didn't want to speak to my mom on Sunday, the day we were leaving, and have that potentially taint my mood as we headed into our vacation.
From Good Friday until Mother's Day, I managed to go another 17 days of no contact. The Wednesday before Mother's Day, I sent off one of my generic mother's day cards and some sugar free cookies I got from Christmas Tree Shoppes, and in turn, mom sent a passive-aggressive thank you card, which was addressed so poorly, it's truly amazing it managed to be delivered--especially knowing how dodgey my postal deliveries are these days.
Mother's Day was a flurry of errands and things to be done, then lunch out, and a nap, and come to find out mom broke down and called me, perhaps in a fit of desperation for contact. And of course, I called back, and her voicemail box is perpetually full so no way to leave a message, which then only prolongs the annoyance, as her return call inevitably would come while we were eating dinner.
I have nothing to discuss with her anymore. Anything good, I keep to myself because she has a way of shitting up any good thing, and of course, any bad thing, she'd only derive some schadenfreude from it. Also, anything of mine, good/bad/indifferent, would be met with a litany of problems she's having.
Her world continues to shrink, and she has been spending so much time in her room alone, the nursing home staff has been insisting she goes out to the dining room for her meals so she can get some socialization. She claims her feet hurt so bad she doesn't want to walk--and she doesn't walk all that much to begin with, so I fail to see the issue of the dining room, considering she uses a wheel chair now--and by "she uses," I should say, some poor fool is pushing her ass around.
She continues to be my personal cautionary tale. I've been keeping a tight schedule these days of knee injections and MRI or xrays in the mornings before work, as well as acupuncture, cognitive behavioral therapy, and physical therapy, after work. With physical therapy on Saturdays and chiropractic on alternating Saturdays. I keep this tight schedule so I can continue to do what I want, when and how I want, for as long as possible.
She's given up on participating in life on the outside, given up on ALL OF US, and yet blames every one of us for the state of things, so basically all she continues to do is foment resentment in all of us.
I am trapped between two worlds. There are people out there who happily express their love and devotion to their moms on Mother's Day. Then there are others out there who grieve for their dead mothers. Then there's me: resentful that my mom has given up on everyone, and blames everyone for her troubles.
From Good Friday until Mother's Day, I managed to go another 17 days of no contact. The Wednesday before Mother's Day, I sent off one of my generic mother's day cards and some sugar free cookies I got from Christmas Tree Shoppes, and in turn, mom sent a passive-aggressive thank you card, which was addressed so poorly, it's truly amazing it managed to be delivered--especially knowing how dodgey my postal deliveries are these days.
Mother's Day was a flurry of errands and things to be done, then lunch out, and a nap, and come to find out mom broke down and called me, perhaps in a fit of desperation for contact. And of course, I called back, and her voicemail box is perpetually full so no way to leave a message, which then only prolongs the annoyance, as her return call inevitably would come while we were eating dinner.
I have nothing to discuss with her anymore. Anything good, I keep to myself because she has a way of shitting up any good thing, and of course, any bad thing, she'd only derive some schadenfreude from it. Also, anything of mine, good/bad/indifferent, would be met with a litany of problems she's having.
Her world continues to shrink, and she has been spending so much time in her room alone, the nursing home staff has been insisting she goes out to the dining room for her meals so she can get some socialization. She claims her feet hurt so bad she doesn't want to walk--and she doesn't walk all that much to begin with, so I fail to see the issue of the dining room, considering she uses a wheel chair now--and by "she uses," I should say, some poor fool is pushing her ass around.
She continues to be my personal cautionary tale. I've been keeping a tight schedule these days of knee injections and MRI or xrays in the mornings before work, as well as acupuncture, cognitive behavioral therapy, and physical therapy, after work. With physical therapy on Saturdays and chiropractic on alternating Saturdays. I keep this tight schedule so I can continue to do what I want, when and how I want, for as long as possible.
She's given up on participating in life on the outside, given up on ALL OF US, and yet blames every one of us for the state of things, so basically all she continues to do is foment resentment in all of us.
I am trapped between two worlds. There are people out there who happily express their love and devotion to their moms on Mother's Day. Then there are others out there who grieve for their dead mothers. Then there's me: resentful that my mom has given up on everyone, and blames everyone for her troubles.
