Wednesday, April 25, 2012
My Mother's House
Not having any money often leaves poor people in a position to be abused. I'll use myself as an example here. I've often when faced with homelessness returned to my mother's house. While initially welcoming me back in the first twenty-four hours, she will then make a trip to the liquor store, get drunk, and then carry on for hours on end about what a loser and disappointment I am. The insults go deep into the heart of me. As I write this she is outside the bedroom door where my children and I are hiding, ordering me to open the door, and if I don't she says she will call the sheriff to have me removed. This is a scenario that I've gone through time and time again.
Last night she grabbed me and pushed me across the porch while screaming "You fucking loser. I don't want your fucking ass in my house. You fucked up your life. You have no money. You have no job. You are a fucking parasite! We should line people like you up and fucking exterminate you just like the Nazi's did with the Jews." (This reference clearly has something to do with the fact that she is originally from Germany. Did growing up in that environment suck the basic humanity out of her? My childhood would suggest it did.)
If you have ever been around drunk people, you know how utterly hateful and disgusting they can be, but a drunk person who has economic superiority over you whether they are your mother, boyfriend, husband, or government is a beast not to be reckoned with. Of course, you should never argue with a drunk person because that only strengthens them into assaulting your person even further.
Being backed into a corner when faced with living on the street or putting up with this type of person makes it easy to forget. I don't know why but I always forget that she is like this. I've several times packed my children up with out so much as a dime and taken my chances on the street because after a show like this initially the street presents itself as more kind.
Many philosophies suggest that we should be grateful for our experiences whether good or bad because they ultimately shape who we are. I've spent a good amount of my lifetime seeking the spiritual which I believe is due to the incredible amount of humiliation and pain I've encountered in this human realm. Last night and this morning, I sat facing my mother without objection or retort and I saw the incredible amount of pain that her beliefs about me were causing her.
I listened to everything from "I gave birth to Satan. You are not my daughter. I am not your mother." to "I don't want you anymore. I don't want your children. I wish you would stop screwing up and imposing on my life" without reaction. I imagined that a warm light from beyond was protecting my heart, that no amount of abusive words could change who I was and I suddenly had the impulse to go out and ease the suffering of someone else but it was late at night, the car is completely empty of gas, and I have about ten dollars to my name.
So here I sit with the children in one of her upstairs bedrooms. I would be calling shelters to see if there is anywhere, anywhere at all, that might be able to provide us shelter but the phone is off we think due to the fact that they were working on the road near us. My only other option is to just drive on down the road but the lack of gas would just have us out of gas miles from any town as we are in a semi-remote area. I did ask about shelters in the town near us and I was told that the most I could hope for was one of the local churches putting us up in a motel for a couple nights and I don't see how that would help me.
So I deal with my lot in life. I listen and endure and I make sure to do all the things a good house guest would do like never leaving a dirty dish and picking up after the children.
Yesterday, I thought she was offering to let us move back in as she was going over the "rules of the land" for staying here but it looks like she had a change of heart. She blames me for my predicament and it's true I haven't always been able to think straight. Bouts of depression and anxiety have often gripped me.
I don't know what will happen when she sobers up but I suspect that I will either have to leave or listen to a daily monologue of how I failed at life, at being a mother, and every other thing I've ever tried. I guess I'll just wait for the phone to be turned on or the sheriff shows up to evict us. If I could leave on my own I would as I don't believe I have a right to stay where I'm not wanted in a place that does not belong to me.
I do however need a way to leave. Perhaps I should just pack a few backpacks and we could set out on foot. The nearest town is 23 miles away but if we hitch hiked then maybe we could get a ride. I just don't know what I would do once we got there.
Well, got to go. She was thankfully passed out in her bed for a time but I can hear she is up again. So let the raging begin again and as it does, let the sun shine warmth my way so I don't believe a word she says. Then maybe a miracle will come my way.