"Knowing what I know now, about God and His Sovereignty...
Somewhere there is a heart willing to listen to this story about this little girl, orange carpet, hollyhocks, a small town ...and violence. Somewhere there is surely someone who will read Your story and see the Grace and Mercy in your life...and God will use you to touch that person, for His Glory.

Your story touches my heart, Pat "

Tuesday, November 15, 2016

Sixteen Years Later Part 2 The Visit

Part one HERE

  After a deep cry in the car and catching my breathe I tossed around going to see the woman in the photo. The woman I didn't know, that didn't know me, the woman that has not been a part of my life for sixteen years, the woman who is my mother.
 On the morning my husband and I were to drive there,  I had much reservation, I had fear and I was very uncomfortable. I almost changed my mind. One hundred miles usually takes a while, but on that day it went far too quickly, too soon we were there. I was going to see her and I didn't know what to expect.  During the move from her home to my aunt and uncles home town (also my childhood home) my mother "lost it" she became unruly and they needed help to get her under control resulting her being hospitalized, restrained and eventually moved to the state psychiatric hospital. As of this time I do not know what drugs she was put on but obviously she is on what ever was needed to keep her calm and under control.
  We drove to the old brick buildings high on the hill in a small town we have driven by for years. We passed the building surrounded by high fence and razor wire and ended up in a place that felt more like a nursing home, although not everyone was old. We signed in, we passed two locked doors and the nurse said, "we got her out of the recliner, she was pretty sleepy", she then said the woman in the chair, "your daughter is here to see you."
The nurse looked at me and I said, "it has been over 15 years", she moved us to a private room and said, "she will wake up just give her some snuggles."
  Do you have any idea how bizarre that was? Snuggle the woman who never snuggled me? Snuggle the woman who did nothing but lie, exaggerate, cause trouble, and demand you bow to her every thought and complaint? Snuggle? Did you not hear me lady? Sixteen years......
 It wasn't hers to figure out, she is there to take care of the woman in the chair, not me.

   There she was, right there, with my grandma's hair. "Hi, how are you feeling? Are you sleepy? Do you know who I am? It is me, Shannon."

" mom, it is me, Shannon, we came to see you. Do you know who I am?"
Imagine if you had a terrible headache and you grimaced and placed your hand over your forehead and eye, imagine if you felt shame and tried to hide, imagine if you wanted to avoid something and wanted to get the hell out of there but your body and the drugs you are on physically prevent that so you place your hand over your head and twist away and grunt out NO!

My husband tries, "Jeannie, we came a long way to see you. Do you want to see photos of the kids? "
 Me- " Mom, it is Shannon, do you know who I am?"
 Switch gears....
" How are you?  It is almost lunch time. Are you hungry? Have you seen Aunt and Uncle? They were just here, Have you seen Shannon?"
 Grimace, twist, hide.
She still has refused to even open her eyes.
Now...you may want to say, she was really drugged, she wasn't awake. She was confused.
Those grunts became coherent, the hand over the eyes became plugging her ears and she physically moved her body as far away as she could.
"Jeannie do you know who I am? I am Shannon, we came a long way, are you going to talk?"
 "I don't care" plugs ears
" We haven't seen each other in sixteen years."
" I don't give a ......"
" Well, we can leave then"
 "Are you leaving?" said clearly, forcefully and with agitation
"If you aren't going to talk, then yes, are you going to talk?"
plugs ears- she still will not even open her eyes

So I stood up, and said
" There you are, you are in there, you have spent your life bitter and angry" she is getting agitated, twisting to trying and get away, she plugs her ears again, " I don't care" and mumbles more I cannot understand.
"What?, I didn't understand. Are you even going to look at me? You have been angry your whole life, where did it get you? I want you to know I am not angry, I am not bitter."
She lets out a groan of disgust.
So 20 minutes later, Sixteen years later, I left.
She refused to open her eyes,
 she did everything her body would let her to get away,
she didn't give a f*&k and she did her best to let me know it.
Now I understand that she is weak, physically, mentally, and she is spiritually void, I know she is drugged and even diagnosed with psychosis and Alzheimer, but my thoughts are this-
 the doctors do not know her history, her behaviors, her patterns and she has never been to a psychiatrist to compare past mental issues. She is forgetful but she has been playing that card for over a decade, she is the boy who cried wolf and she wore out the ability for those she has been around to believe her or to trust anything.
She is an example of how seeking attention for the negative feeds the negative.

That  pretending to be sick, inventing heart attacks, and illnesses will make you sick.

Anger and bitterness will carve deep lines in your face and soul,
plugging your ears only dulls the sounds of life passing you by.

If you refuse to open your eyes, the truth is still there, right in front of you.

I do not know the woman in the chair, yet I know her all too well.

Sixteen Years Later Pt 1

   In 2000 my grandmother turned 80.
  Our family gathered, we traveled 400 miles to see her and my mom was there along with her husband. I don't remember if she lived there or back in Wyoming at that time. I remember the photos of everyone around grandma, she wore a red sweater, she had lovely white hair and she smiled. That makes me laugh because grandma didn't have a natural smile for photos, a stiff, teeth bearing almost painful grimace. We would all laugh at it because she had a natural lovely smile, but, when the camera came out....it disappeared.
  My aunt orchestrated the in-law and outlaw photo sessions poking fun of those married in, as she was. It made no matter, my aunts and uncles through marriage our as much our blood as anyone could ever be. I really don't remember a lot about the visit other than it was a nice time and it was the last time I saw my mother.
  No. She is still alive.
As a mother of two the thought of not seeing my child for sixteen years...sixteen! I would be heartbroken, deeply heartbroken.  As a grandma to an angel baby I would give anything that my daughter never would have had to go through that heartache, that I also could have never felt that deep piercing pain. I would move hell and high water to see my child, to hug them, to tell them I loved them. I would slay any dragon for my son and my daughter.
  But that is not so for my mother. She was content to not see me, and so I became safe in not seeing her. We talked from time to time, less frequently as the years faded away. Phone calls were stressful. When you speak with a narcissist, you walk a fine line, you must not offend which means you cannot disagree- with anything. You must praise, repeatedly, every thought they have, you must compliment every act they have achieved and you must NOT expect any accolades for yourself. In fact, when talking to a narcissist you need to just leave yourself behind.  Our calls were nothing more than her complaining about who did what to her, how awful so and so was and a myriad of hypochondriac complaints.
 Endless complaints.
Exhausting complaints.
  How can you not see your child or how can you not see your parent for sixteen years when you live a few states away? That alone seems surreal.
  I remember her taller than me by two inches,  with over processed, curly, usually brown hair. She had more hair colors, styles and home perms than any head of hair should ever go through.  She wasn't big but she wasn't small, if that makes sense. She had a large smile and it showed her teeth and gums, that is what my memory stored and my photos show.
   As time slipped, so did she. Imagine my surprise when a photo of an old white haired frail woman came to my phone.
My uncle intended to move her to his home town, about half way between her and I. The move did not go well and resulted in her now being 100 miles away from me,
in the state psychiatric hospital.
 Saturday my husband and I went to an estate sale in a small town, as I walked out of the cafe my phone received a text. My aunt sent a photo.....
 it was a woman with my grandma's white hair, deep wrinkles and she was small, very small.
   I stopped on the sidewalk, the comment said, "she is having a good day today"
 Had I not known who sent that photo, had I sat next to that woman in the cafe, had I walked by her on the street, I would not have known her. I would not have known my own mother.

 I do not know my own mother, and my mother does not know me.

My breath was gone, my words were stuck and my eyes were full of tears.
  A deep bizarre moment happened, a bewildering acknowledgement of just that.....I do not know that woman in the photo.
Sixteen years and one hundred miles later-
 I went to see her.

 part two http://shannonspigtales.blogspot.com/2016/11/sixteen-years-later-part-2-visit.htmlHERE