family gatherings

every few months or so, my mother's family plans a get together. they don't do it out of pure love. to go into the dynamics of my mother's family could take a book in and of itself. so let's simplify.

mom's sister: almost as nutty as my mother. the hippy little sister who followed my mother into the LSD and ashrams of the 1970s with the adoration of a younger sibling who felt an affinity with my mother's odd choices. you could blame the times, if you want. partially i blame their hot-headed father and cigarette-totin'-sunday-dinner-throwin' mother. my mom and her sister wore saris to their brother's bar mitzvah, if that helps put this picture together for you. whereas my mother married her high school friend that understood her, her sister married an attractive greek boy, and promptly moved into suburban never-never-land to get the nice house in the respectable neighborhood. her kids are almost the same age as me and my brother. they were raised selfish, materialistic, uncommitted to school, and mostly interested in their clothes, friends, and popularity. the last time we got along was when we were 5. needless to say, they are practically strangers to me. my aunt is now a yogi, living with another yogi, and preaches well being and happiness, but just comes across as a ditzy new ager who has very little anchor in reality. she, too, is incredibly selfish. there's really no other way to label it.

mom's brother: the little brother left behind his two big sisters. always cleaning up the mess. the sibling who actually did something with himself. he's described it to me as being the "outsider." unlike my mom and her sister, he actually finished college and went into a definite field. he married an angel, and created the perfect little family. they do all the right things. say the right things. have the right friends and family friends and vacations and make everything ok. they have taken care of me when i have nothing to give but depression and i love them so very very much. every time my mother has gone off the deep end, my uncle has been there with an understanding and compassion that makes me feel unworthy of it.

mom's brother's wife's family: a hoot. i love these people. i wish they were my own family sometimes.

so, back to the story. mom's brother, who seems to feel that he and his wife must "hold" the family together now that grandpa is gone, has these get togethers twice a year. and this weekend was the latest. so it was me, my uncle and his family, his wife's family, my mom's sister, her yogi-spiritual-in-name-husband and her two kids. out of the entire room, i really just wanted to spend time with my uncle and his little family. they're the only ones i feel close to anymore. we've been on vacations together. i adore my little cousins, who are now in high school and starting to enjoy all those fun times with friends and crushes and first drinks...

but there was my mother's sister. reminding me so much of my mother it almost hurt. same mannerisms, same awkward comments. same face. and all i could think was, "what a waste." my mother's illness is such a waste. i always feel like my mother's daughter. like that is the label i will always have when i'm near people who know her. i know that my uncle doesn't think of me like that, but it's what it feels like.

most of the night was spent in idle chit chat. and then my aunt, with the lack of censorship she has always been blessed with, came out with "why don't you go on jenny craig like me? try to lose some weight? what do your doctors say?"

i wanted to punch her in the face, stand up, and leave.

yes, i'm fat. yes, i stress eat. yes, i eat my feelings away when i feel so depressed that i don't leave my house for two days. but don't fucking make me feel like shit, when every other thought i have on a regular basis is, "i hate myself. i hate myself. i hate myself." i don't need it. i don't fucking need it, especially when you are sitting right there, looking and sounding like my mother in a setting where she should have been. don't fucking say that.

i have no idea what happened the rest of the night. my uncle asked me if i was ok as i left, and i started to cry, and mumbled something about a "waste". somehow i made it home.

but i chain smoked the whole way. and i really don't feel like seeing my aunt for another 6 months.

nami walk

i'm also thinking of doing the nami-nyc walk in her honor. something to DO other than sit and wait for her. at least i could raise funds for others, right?

on the move again.

one step further away from my mother. i'm moving for the eighth time in five years. it's the job, but i can't pretend it isn't me too. destined to be a nomad, i suppose. the last person to put down roots in my family was my aunt in the 1970's. the rest of us still rent. i realized with a slight sort of glee that my mother no longer has my phone number for work. she can't call me and harass me at my job anymore. but i know at some point that someone else will tell her where i've transferred, and the explanations to coworkers will have to begin again. i dread it. but i also want it, if only to know she's alive.

the job

i love my job. everything about it. i'm probably one of the few people in the world who can say that outloud and mean it. my one sadness is explaining my mother's phone calls to my coworkers. they're so wonderfully protective of me. they know her voice, and almost always "screen" calls for me. i wish i could have my own extension, and she could leave all the crazy voicemails she wants. but we only have one group line. having to explain your mother's illness over and over and over again is just hard.

i just found out i've been promoted to assistant manager. this is huge. this is bigger than huge. this is everything i've worked for in the last three years. and all i can think about is, "lord, i hope they don't tell her what store i transferred to."

this is my chance for another clean break. maybe she won't find out. maybe i won't have to retell the same old sob story to a new crew.

unlikely.

recent news.

mom's been a busy little bee. the state police had come looking for info on her a few months ago because she sent a threatening letter to a public official. we didn't know where she was at the time, although my brother seemed to know she had changed her name and moved somewhere north. turns out it's actually true. she legally changed her name to some blatantly vanilla americana name, and moved into a nursing home in the worst slum in an upstate city. the cops know where she is, and who she is, and she has already made quite the name for herself at the local authorities.

so my question remains: why don't they just drag her to the hospital already?

the more time passes, the more sure i become that i will never get my mother back. she will never check herself in, and the cops will never force her because she's not really that much of a threat. just a crazy woman who harasses the local post office for "tampering" with her mail. perhaps this is how it will be from now on - her being somewhere far away, living alone in assisted living on disability, and me never feeling comfortable enough to see her again.

what a waste.

song dedication?

somehow i rediscovered sarah mclachlan's "drifting" tonight. and it's eerily perfect language for what i think my heart is saying every now and then.

"you've been gone so long

all that you know has been shuffled aside

as you bask in the glow

of the beautiful strangers that whisper your name

do they fill up the emptiness

larger than life is your fiction

in a universe made up of one

you have been drifting for so long

i know you don't want to come down

somewhere below you there's people who love you

and they're ready for you to come home,

please come home"

mystery package and the aqarium

my best friend took me to the aquarium with her daughter today. i think my mentioning of the fact that i have spent the last two month's worth of weekends in a depressed funk had something to do with it. and i had a good time. but even now, it's 5 am and i couldn't possibly tell you why i'm still awake.

my building's front door had a a fed ex door tag waiting for me the other day. they left it with my super. i didn't order anything. i'm not expecting anything. i'm extremely confused over what it might be. and hoping it's not from my mother. she shouldn't have my address, and if she does, it might freak me out a bit. i don't want her showing up here someday.