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I Have No Response to That
May. 5th, 2005 10:05 amOver the years, I've done a lot of work to reclaim my emotions to the point where I feel them in the moment, and show them as I feel them, rather than stuffing them down so deep that I don't even quite notice them go by. But clearly, I still have some way to go.
I got an e-mail late last night from my dad. My mother has been diagnosed with cirrhosis of the liver. As my dad notes, in some sense, this is not a surprise. At various times alcohol has been one of my mother's primary and heavily leaned-upon means of self-medicating her bi-polar disorder (she's a poor responder to lithium, you see). Dad goes on to say that they don't know how bad it is, yet. They've got a new primary care doc, and he hasn't been at all forthcoming with details. Dad's going in to see him later in the month, and plans to pump him for information then. Mom, meanwhile is both depressed and physically debilitated; apparently her energy levels are lower even than they were in March.
I have no idea how I feel about this. I really don't. Well, I'm in denial, I know that much. My mother is eternal and unchanging. She has to be. As a child I adored and worshipped her, and had night terrors that she might someday grow old and die. But she and I have had a rather rocky relationship ever since I moved out of the house and became a separate person. At one point I had to cauterize my responses to her criticism purely out of self defense. Lately she's been working very hard at showing how much she loves me, and leaving off with the criticism, but I have not been so quick to respond with letting down my guard. I have a very deep-rooted cringe response still. Now I need to peel off the cautery scars and figure out what the hell is down there under them. Intellectually I know I must love my mother. Just as I know there must be something like terror at the thought of her mortality. I really thought I had forever to recover from the years that hurt too much. I may not have much time at all, as it turns out.
Ah, look. I appear to be crying. Well, that's a start.
I got an e-mail late last night from my dad. My mother has been diagnosed with cirrhosis of the liver. As my dad notes, in some sense, this is not a surprise. At various times alcohol has been one of my mother's primary and heavily leaned-upon means of self-medicating her bi-polar disorder (she's a poor responder to lithium, you see). Dad goes on to say that they don't know how bad it is, yet. They've got a new primary care doc, and he hasn't been at all forthcoming with details. Dad's going in to see him later in the month, and plans to pump him for information then. Mom, meanwhile is both depressed and physically debilitated; apparently her energy levels are lower even than they were in March.
I have no idea how I feel about this. I really don't. Well, I'm in denial, I know that much. My mother is eternal and unchanging. She has to be. As a child I adored and worshipped her, and had night terrors that she might someday grow old and die. But she and I have had a rather rocky relationship ever since I moved out of the house and became a separate person. At one point I had to cauterize my responses to her criticism purely out of self defense. Lately she's been working very hard at showing how much she loves me, and leaving off with the criticism, but I have not been so quick to respond with letting down my guard. I have a very deep-rooted cringe response still. Now I need to peel off the cautery scars and figure out what the hell is down there under them. Intellectually I know I must love my mother. Just as I know there must be something like terror at the thought of her mortality. I really thought I had forever to recover from the years that hurt too much. I may not have much time at all, as it turns out.
Ah, look. I appear to be crying. Well, that's a start.
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