Her

[JustGeorge]

There's a woman I've known for a long time.

She used to seem pretty vibrant. She was not particularly beautiful, but was engaged in just about every activity she could find., staying active at a local gym, participating at regular arts and crafts shows, volunteering. She spoke easily with people, and made friends quickly. She tended to be liked no matter where she went, an interesting combination of hard working and laid back. I watched as she took care of problems with ease, her confidence almost always winning things over. During those years, I was a bit envious. Stuck in my own anxiety, I wasn't able to always communicate for myself. When things were rough, though, she did it for me.

Sadly, the smile on her face was all a show. She had married young, and was unhappy with her spouse. Her husband was a domineering sort, trying to plaster the family with Fundamentalist Christian ideas. She played along for awhile, but that just wasn't her to be so angsty. She introduced me to the idea of reincarnation, and showed me a tarot deck for the first time, taking that and her crystal pendulum out proudly while her husband was at work.

She left eventually. Within a matter of months, she'd jumped into a new marriage, this time with an alcoholic with a challenging past. She hadn't been a big drinker before, but like the previous relationship, she took on her partner's mantle. After awhile, she was full fledged into it. She still worked, and worked hard, but all other hobbies and interests were done. No more volunteer work. Occasionally, she'd whip up a cheap craft item to sell at the bar for extra drink money, but that was about it. Her love of bar life became the most important part of her; her children were left alone most of the time. I'd drop in and check on them from time to time. When the youngest ran away to another state, I thought it might have been a blessing in disguise. I didn't hear from her as much anymore. Occasionally, I'd drop in and have a drink with her, but she was hard to keep up with. We worked together for a little while; I think that kept the relationship going longer than it may have otherwise.

Slowly, her partner drank himself to death. First, it was diabetes. Then, the strokes started. Soon, he wound up in a wheelchair, his legs both amputated. He didn't speak anymore. She trucked through, in her patient manner, becoming his caretaker until he passed. As I watched her through the years, I could see she had little identity to her, most often taking that of her partner, sometimes friends if the partner had become too difficult. When her first marriage had soured, it had been her sister's New Age crowd she'd sought to emulate. When in the second marriage she became more of a babysitter and less of a wife, she sought her new persona in the bar bums in her rural environment.

We grew apart. She'd been present for my oldest son, but my middle son wasn't aware of her until he was about 4, despite the fact that she lived only a short distance. My youngest knows of her, but there's no relationship. I'd watched her go through so much, but for the last several years, its more like talking to a shell. Its not worth hunting her down over most of the time; she doesn't keep in touch. One of the last conversations I had with her was a little creepy. I listened to her spew opinions that weren't hers, and when questioned, she wasn't really aware of what she was saying. I asked about her new boyfriend's thoughts. Oh, these were his opinions. Gotcha. I felt a pang of sadness for her. After all this time, she still had no idea of who she was...

I decided I'd step away from awhile. I'll see her again, eventually. I won't have to dodge her; she makes no effort. Silence took over the phone call. What else could be said? "Uh... guess I'll let you go, Mom", I said. And that was that.

 

[Heyo]

Nice gut punch at the end.

 

[JustGeorge]

Nice gut punch at the end.

Thanks.

I thought if I revealed my relationship to her too quickly, it would 'flavor' how the reader saw her in another direction, and I didn't want that.

 

[exchemist]

There's a woman I've known for a long time.

She used to seem pretty vibrant. She was not particularly beautiful, but was engaged in just about every activity she could find., staying active at a local gym, participating at regular arts and crafts shows, volunteering. She spoke easily with people, and made friends quickly. She tended to be liked no matter where she went, an interesting combination of hard working and laid back. I watched as she took care of problems with ease, her confidence almost always winning things over. During those years, I was a bit envious. Stuck in my own anxiety, I wasn't able to always communicate for myself. When things were rough, though, she did it for me.

Sadly, the smile on her face was all a show. She had married young, and was unhappy with her spouse. Her husband was a domineering sort, trying to plaster the family with Fundamentalist Christian ideas. She played along for awhile, but that just wasn't her to be so angsty. She introduced me to the idea of reincarnation, and showed me a tarot deck for the first time, taking that and her crystal pendulum out proudly while her husband was at work.

She left eventually. Within a matter of months, she'd jumped into a new marriage, this time with an alcoholic with a challenging past. She hadn't been a big drinker before, but like the previous relationship, she took on her partner's mantle. After awhile, she was full fledged into it. She still worked, and worked hard, but all other hobbies and interests were done. No more volunteer work. Occasionally, she'd whip up a cheap craft item to sell at the bar for extra drink money, but that was about it. Her love of bar life became the most important part of her; her children were left alone most of the time. I'd drop in and check on them from time to time. When the youngest ran away to another state, I thought it might have been a blessing in disguise. I didn't hear from her as much anymore. Occasionally, I'd drop in and have a drink with her, but she was hard to keep up with. We worked together for a little while; I think that kept the relationship going longer than it may have otherwise.

Slowly, her partner drank himself to death. First, it was diabetes. Then, the strokes started. Soon, he wound up in a wheelchair, his legs both amputated. He didn't speak anymore. She trucked through, in her patient manner, becoming his caretaker until he passed. As I watched her through the years, I could see she had little identity to her, most often taking that of her partner, sometimes friends if the partner had become too difficult. When her first marriage had soured, it had been her sister's New Age crowd she'd sought to emulate. When in the second marriage she became more of a babysitter and less of a wife, she sought her new persona in the bar bums in her rural environment.

We grew apart. She'd been present for my oldest son, but my middle son wasn't aware of her until he was about 4, despite the fact that she lived only a short distance. My youngest knows of her, but there's no relationship. I'd watched her go through so much, but for the last several years, its more like talking to a shell. Its not worth hunting her down over most of the time; she doesn't keep in touch. One of the last conversations I had with her was a little creepy. I listened to her spew opinions that weren't hers, and when questioned, she wasn't really aware of what she was saying. I asked about her new boyfriend's thoughts. Oh, these were his opinions. Gotcha. I felt a pang of sadness for her. After all this time, she still had no idea of who she was...

I decided I'd step away from awhile. I'll see her again, eventually. I won't have to dodge her; she makes no effort. Silence took over the phone call. What else could be said? "Uh... guess I'll let you go, Mom", I said. And that was that.

Ooof. What a sad situation. But there is nothing to be done, so best get on with your own life, I suppose. You've done what you can, after all.

 

[Heyo]

Thanks.

I thought if I revealed my relationship to her too quickly, it would 'flavor' how the reader saw her in another direction, and I didn't want that.

It gives the story a Patricia Highsmith / Roald Dahl vibe. Change the first line to "There's a woman I've known for a very long time, longer than anybody else." and you have the kind of foreshadowing that accentuates the twist at the end without giving it away.
Great penmanship.

 

[JustGeorge]

Ooof. What a sad situation. But there is nothing to be done, so best get on with your own life, I suppose. You've done what you can, after all.

Its true. I cut most of my emotional ties years ago, and honestly have no hard feelings. She's been a broken woman for as long as I can remember. The phone call I last mentioned struck me, though... not so much because I mourned our relationship, but I mourned that she'll be 70 in a few years, and still has no idea who she is. It was right after an election, and she shared with me how she voted, and said she did so because "[boyfriend's name] told me to". I asked if she realized some of the candidates she voted for were actively working against things she supported(I will state, for the record, I had no personal agenda here; our political views don't line up on everything). She had no idea. I think she felt a little foolish, and I felt sad for her.

 

[exchemist]

…and yet she has such a live wire of a daughter!

I wonder where the wheels came off.

 

[Rachel Rugelach]

This was heartbreaking to read, @JustGeorge. I, too, felt that "gut punch" at the end that @Heyo mentioned.

I've no doubt that others have told you this already, so this is no news coming from me: You've got to look after yourself not only for your own good but also for the good of your children who depend on you. "Stepping away" as you've done sure sounds like a good move.

May you continue to gain strength from the people who have an active and positive role in your life, as well as from your Hindu religious teachings.

 

[sun rise]

What a sad story. I want to give you:

 

[JustGeorge]

…and yet she has such a live wire of a daughter!

I wonder where the wheels came off.

For what its worth, despite being such a strange kid, she got a kick out of me when I hit my teen years(I think she was a little lost before that, trying to figure me out). I think she did enjoy me for a long while, too, but I think as I age she's a little lost on how to take me again. I think there's a little resentment towards me now; I stayed much stronger in much more challenging situations, and I think she has difficulty relating to me because of it. She babysat my youngest two for two hours over the summer while I attended Grandma's house(they're looking to clean it and sell it). I started getting angry calls after about an hour, demanding I come back. I did, but it was a drive, so it took awhile.

"This was too much! Now I have to go have a drink!" Apparently, the kids were naughty; Ares stirring up the chaos, and his little brother following suit. I just put my hands on my hips, grinned, and told her "you did this for two hours! I do this all day, every day!" Her face fell, and she said "I don't know how!" and waved me off.

I don't think the wheels were ever put on right. I never met my late grandfather, but I know he was severely abusive. She almost never talks about him. She also had some tragic incidents happen in her late teens/early adult years that I suspect did more damage than she let on; her self esteem was awful, despite her confidence. She'd show me pictures of herself as a young woman, and call herself a fat***, when all I could see was a normal sized, reasonably attractive woman in the picture. She married my dad because she thought she'd never get better.

She played things off well for a long, long time, though. I don't think most were aware anything was wrong. She'd occasionally break to me once I hit my teen years. In any mother-daughter conversations we had, I was the 'mother', she was the 'daughter'.

This was heartbreaking to read, @JustGeorge. I, too, felt that "gut punch" at the end that @Heyo mentioned.

I've no doubt that others have told you this already, so this is no news coming from me: You've got to look after yourself not only for your own good but also for the good of your children who depend on you. "Stepping away" as you've done sure sounds like a good move.

May you continue to gain strength from the people who have an active and positive role in your life, as well as from your Hindu religious teachings.

I feel fortunate that my middle sister and I were able to cut emotional ties while still remaining friendly. My middle sister puts in more effort, but has less needs to meet from her children, so is able to do so more easily. My youngest sister seethes with hate and anger towards her. It deeply upsets Mom, but she isn't able to make it better(and my sister is full of issues beyond anything that Mom did).

My religious teachings give me a lot of strength. I find a lot of comfort in the stories, in prayer. I love the people in my life, but I am the 'strength giver'. My support tends to be feline(even though they sure cause me a lot of mess somedays...)

 

[sun rise]

My support tends to be feline(even though they sure cause me a lot of mess somedays...)

Cats are wonderful, if naughty, four-legged people.

 

[JustGeorge]

Cats are wonderful, if naughty, four-legged people.

Strangely, we notice the 'born outdoors' cats to be much more well behaved than the 'born indoors'. Not sure why that is...

 

[Spiderman]

When was your last conversation with her?

 

[Spice]

@JustGeorge
I'm so glad this post got revived. I can relate to your mother very much. It's a generational expectation of women that pulled on us all, but evidently she didn't have the energy to keep from drowning in it. It pulled me down for the third count when I finally shook loose. Women 15 or 20 years older had it much worse. That's the situation with my neighbor and her live-in mother. It's a sad business to watch and I can only imagine the difficulty of living it.

My grandmother was a good model for me. Born in 1898 she of course had "expectations" placed on her role as a woman. Fortunately my grandfather was a good man. Unfortunately he passed away during the depression leaving her with 4 small children. She had to find strength. But by the end of the depression those societal expectations were shining on her again. It was shameful for a woman to provide for her family by taking in boarders instead of marrying. So she married. It was a bad one. Then along came WWII. Women showed what they could do! And she took the initiative to kick his hind parts out and raise her kids by her own hands!

I wish your mother had had a role model to lead her in those times. Few, I think, had support in holding on to the real "her" and fighting for the right to be a complete person instead of the expectation that women are nothing except "the other half."

 

[Evangelicalhumanist]

There's a woman I've known for a long time.

She used to seem pretty vibrant. She was not particularly beautiful, but was engaged in just about every activity she could find., staying active at a local gym, participating at regular arts and crafts shows, volunteering. She spoke easily with people, and made friends quickly. She tended to be liked no matter where she went, an interesting combination of hard working and laid back. I watched as she took care of problems with ease, her confidence almost always winning things over. During those years, I was a bit envious. Stuck in my own anxiety, I wasn't able to always communicate for myself. When things were rough, though, she did it for me.

Sadly, the smile on her face was all a show. She had married young, and was unhappy with her spouse. Her husband was a domineering sort, trying to plaster the family with Fundamentalist Christian ideas. She played along for awhile, but that just wasn't her to be so angsty. She introduced me to the idea of reincarnation, and showed me a tarot deck for the first time, taking that and her crystal pendulum out proudly while her husband was at work.

She left eventually. Within a matter of months, she'd jumped into a new marriage, this time with an alcoholic with a challenging past. She hadn't been a big drinker before, but like the previous relationship, she took on her partner's mantle. After awhile, she was full fledged into it. She still worked, and worked hard, but all other hobbies and interests were done. No more volunteer work. Occasionally, she'd whip up a cheap craft item to sell at the bar for extra drink money, but that was about it. Her love of bar life became the most important part of her; her children were left alone most of the time. I'd drop in and check on them from time to time. When the youngest ran away to another state, I thought it might have been a blessing in disguise. I didn't hear from her as much anymore. Occasionally, I'd drop in and have a drink with her, but she was hard to keep up with. We worked together for a little while; I think that kept the relationship going longer than it may have otherwise.

Slowly, her partner drank himself to death. First, it was diabetes. Then, the strokes started. Soon, he wound up in a wheelchair, his legs both amputated. He didn't speak anymore. She trucked through, in her patient manner, becoming his caretaker until he passed. As I watched her through the years, I could see she had little identity to her, most often taking that of her partner, sometimes friends if the partner had become too difficult. When her first marriage had soured, it had been her sister's New Age crowd she'd sought to emulate. When in the second marriage she became more of a babysitter and less of a wife, she sought her new persona in the bar bums in her rural environment.

We grew apart. She'd been present for my oldest son, but my middle son wasn't aware of her until he was about 4, despite the fact that she lived only a short distance. My youngest knows of her, but there's no relationship. I'd watched her go through so much, but for the last several years, its more like talking to a shell. Its not worth hunting her down over most of the time; she doesn't keep in touch. One of the last conversations I had with her was a little creepy. I listened to her spew opinions that weren't hers, and when questioned, she wasn't really aware of what she was saying. I asked about her new boyfriend's thoughts. Oh, these were his opinions. Gotcha. I felt a pang of sadness for her. After all this time, she still had no idea of who she was...

I decided I'd step away from awhile. I'll see her again, eventually. I won't have to dodge her; she makes no effort. Silence took over the phone call. What else could be said? "Uh... guess I'll let you go, Mom", I said. And that was that.

Well told story!

I had it much easier than you did -- after the man she married abused me nearly to death, the courts took me away and made me a ward of the Crown (meaning the government, really). I saw her the last time when I was 7, and then again when I was 47, and then never again. By that time, she was married to her fifth abusive (and alcoholic) man. I confess, I walked away.

The better news is, I've since met almost all of my 16 half-brothers and sisters, learned much about my history and theirs.

The best news, I hope for both of us, is that we are still here, still whole. I know I am, and I sincerely hope that you are, too.

 

[beenherebeforeagain]

Elsewhere, people have suggested that you write a book. As I recall, you doubt your ability to make it all make sense...or something like that...

I'd like to suggest that a collection of vignettes such as this one might do much to communicate the realities of dealing with mental health and autism spectrum as a living reality. You have a great ability to story-tell; I think a collection of your stories would be valuable...

 

[Twilight Hue]

There's a woman I've known for a long time.

She used to seem pretty vibrant. She was not particularly beautiful, but was engaged in just about every activity she could find., staying active at a local gym, participating at regular arts and crafts shows, volunteering. She spoke easily with people, and made friends quickly. She tended to be liked no matter where she went, an interesting combination of hard working and laid back. I watched as she took care of problems with ease, her confidence almost always winning things over. During those years, I was a bit envious. Stuck in my own anxiety, I wasn't able to always communicate for myself. When things were rough, though, she did it for me.

Sadly, the smile on her face was all a show. She had married young, and was unhappy with her spouse. Her husband was a domineering sort, trying to plaster the family with Fundamentalist Christian ideas. She played along for awhile, but that just wasn't her to be so angsty. She introduced me to the idea of reincarnation, and showed me a tarot deck for the first time, taking that and her crystal pendulum out proudly while her husband was at work.

She left eventually. Within a matter of months, she'd jumped into a new marriage, this time with an alcoholic with a challenging past. She hadn't been a big drinker before, but like the previous relationship, she took on her partner's mantle. After awhile, she was full fledged into it. She still worked, and worked hard, but all other hobbies and interests were done. No more volunteer work. Occasionally, she'd whip up a cheap craft item to sell at the bar for extra drink money, but that was about it. Her love of bar life became the most important part of her; her children were left alone most of the time. I'd drop in and check on them from time to time. When the youngest ran away to another state, I thought it might have been a blessing in disguise. I didn't hear from her as much anymore. Occasionally, I'd drop in and have a drink with her, but she was hard to keep up with. We worked together for a little while; I think that kept the relationship going longer than it may have otherwise.

Slowly, her partner drank himself to death. First, it was diabetes. Then, the strokes started. Soon, he wound up in a wheelchair, his legs both amputated. He didn't speak anymore. She trucked through, in her patient manner, becoming his caretaker until he passed. As I watched her through the years, I could see she had little identity to her, most often taking that of her partner, sometimes friends if the partner had become too difficult. When her first marriage had soured, it had been her sister's New Age crowd she'd sought to emulate. When in the second marriage she became more of a babysitter and less of a wife, she sought her new persona in the bar bums in her rural environment.

We grew apart. She'd been present for my oldest son, but my middle son wasn't aware of her until he was about 4, despite the fact that she lived only a short distance. My youngest knows of her, but there's no relationship. I'd watched her go through so much, but for the last several years, its more like talking to a shell. Its not worth hunting her down over most of the time; she doesn't keep in touch. One of the last conversations I had with her was a little creepy. I listened to her spew opinions that weren't hers, and when questioned, she wasn't really aware of what she was saying. I asked about her new boyfriend's thoughts. Oh, these were his opinions. Gotcha. I felt a pang of sadness for her. After all this time, she still had no idea of who she was...

I decided I'd step away from awhile. I'll see her again, eventually. I won't have to dodge her; she makes no effort. Silence took over the phone call. What else could be said? "Uh... guess I'll let you go, Mom", I said. And that was that.

I wasn't that close with my family either , but in hindsight I would say there's always a value to be found somewhere with life's lessons as unpleasant as they may be.

 

[JustGeorge]

Well told story!

I had it much easier than you did -- after the man she married abused me nearly to death, the courts took me away and made me a ward of the Crown (meaning the government, really). I saw her the last time when I was 7, and then again when I was 47, and then never again. By that time, she was married to her fifth abusive (and alcoholic) man. I confess, I walked away.

The better news is, I've since met almost all of my 16 half-brothers and sisters, learned much about my history and theirs.

The best news, I hope for both of us, is that we are still here, still whole. I know I am, and I sincerely hope that you are, too.

I believe I was better off than my sisters; by the time she was 'checking out', I was a teen and could leave the house easily. I also had a friend's mother who, quite honestly, affected how I turned out more than she or Dad did.

My sisters were stuck with the angry alcoholic. I moved out at 17; Mom didn't have room for me in the new house, and Dad was too emotionally abusive at that time to consider staying with him.

I lived for about 9 months with her and him in my 20s... It was actually a positive experience. He tried his hardest to bait me, and make me hate him. I'm terribly hard to bait. Instead, he ended up opening up... and there was a person in there. A person who'd been sold into slavery at 9(parents sold him to a farmer for farm labor, he never saw them again), and never really learned behavior habits other than addiction and a being a tough guy. Sadly, he never did figure it out...

I'm very glad things turned out well for you, despite any difficulties.

@JustGeorge
I'm so glad this post got revived. I can relate to your mother very much. It's a generational expectation of women that pulled on us all, but evidently she didn't have the energy to keep from drowning in it. It pulled me down for the third count when I finally shook loose. Women 15 or 20 years older had it much worse. That's the situation with my neighbor and her live-in mother. It's a sad business to watch and I can only imagine the difficulty of living it.

My grandmother was a good model for me. Born in 1898 she of course had "expectations" placed on her role as a woman. Fortunately my grandfather was a good man. Unfortunately he passed away during the depression leaving her with 4 small children. She had to find strength. But by the end of the depression those societal expectations were shining on her again. It was shameful for a woman to provide for her family by taking in boarders instead of marrying. So she married. It was a bad one. Then along came WWII. Women showed what they could do! And she took the initiative to kick his hind parts out and raise her kids by her own hands!

I wish your mother had had a role model to lead her in those times. Few, I think, had support in holding on to the real "her" and fighting for the right to be a complete person instead of the expectation that women are nothing except "the other half."

I'm not sure where Mom's role modeling came from. My grandmother is a sweet, gentle woman. All her kids view her as a saint, really... but I know their father was extremely abusive. That relationship may have contributed.

I'm glad you found what you needed in your grandma!

Elsewhere, people have suggested that you write a book. As I recall, you doubt your ability to make it all make sense...or something like that...

You are correct.

I'd like to suggest that a collection of vignettes such as this one might do much to communicate the realities of dealing with mental health and autism spectrum as a living reality. You have a great ability to story-tell; I think a collection of your stories would be valuable...

I may actually take that suggestion; it makes sense. Thanks!

 

[libre]

It gives the story a Patricia Highsmith / Roald Dahl vibe.

Reminded me of this song:

.