I wish I did. But I don't. I wish I wanted to buy her something for her birthday or Mother's day. I wish I liked her. I wish she had loved me. She didn't. But I think MY MOM would have. I think MY MOM and I would have been very close.

I don't remember a great deal of my world before the age 7 or 8. I remember a birthday when I was about 5 or 6. I got the present I wanted. I can hear the clickety clak of my plastic high heels on the side walk. I look fabulous in my genuine imitation jewels but the best part is my gray genuine imitation fur stole. Ah yes. I can see my mother smiling nicely at me. Like she was glad I was happy. Genuinely glad. I know my dad is there but he is barely in my memory. Others as well. It's our housing project but in my memory we aren't at my house. Yet I know we were when I was walking my stuff down the sidewalk. I got to be on a local tv show that day, "TV Ranch Club".

That is the only memory I can recall that is good. I know MY MOM and I would have had many good memories together. But being stuck with my mom, well, not too many memories I care to think about.

MY MOM left when I was around 8. She had another baby. It was another stupid boy. Gee whiz. I already had two older brothers and one younger one, now there were two of them. There was no way my daddy could make up for this one. He bought me a red pencil box with two drawers in front and all the cool stuff inside when my last brother was born. There was no way of making this one up to me daddy-o. I wanted a sister, just one sister. And I am drowning in brothers. But I am still the only girl here. ah yes.

I don't remember how long after that MY MOM went away. It was maybe 3 months later I was standing in a classroom (my school was right across the street from our apartment) and a kid came in and asked if I knew there was an ambulance at my house. I said no and went across the hall to look a window that faced my house. There was an ambulance backed up to the front door of our place. I couldn't see anything clearly but kids were saying it was the baby, it was my mother etc.

It was my mother. I believe she had severe post partum depression. The doctor's called it a "nervous breakdown". I don't recall much about that. I did find out she was in the hospital. I can't remember which one now. My memories are vague about the order of things. I know she came home on weekends after a long time in there. I only remember going to see her twice. I next remember her and my father almost killing my older brothers with the news that our mother was pregnant again!!!!! I had this horrid sense of "oh dear that's not good."

I could have cared less what she had by now. I was 12 and it was just far too late to have a sister that would be of any use to me what so ever. My parents went to the hospital and I went to bed. For some ungodly reason someone woke me up to tell me I had a sister. I said "big deal" and rolled over and went back to sleep. Well, she was a scrawny little thing. Poor Bobby, the one before her, he sort of got lost in the shuffle of kids and the baby. Yes, she's cute but most babies are. She melted my heart the second I saw her. Not one of my older brother's though. Mom would lay her in his lap. He would fold his arms across his chest and look up ward until someone took her off him. He wanted a football team which did not call for girls for pete's sake. ah well

At some point MY MOM and my sister got sick. I think it was my sister first. She got spinal meningitis when she seven months old. A long hospital stay for her. Poor the rest of us 5 kids. Well the the rest of us 3. The older boys would fend for themselves. I was in charge of the two younger boys. She recovered and did just fine.

Then MY MOM got sick with another "breakdown" (I never once saw her in a cast so I couldn't figure out what was broken). And all I know is MY MOM was gone and my mom stayed on. My mom wasn't nice to me anymore. My mom hurt me on purpose. My mom enjoyed it. My mom said it was all my fault and I was not a good little girl. I realized, in time, I was never going to be good enough for my mom. it did not matter what it was, I was wrong and stupid.

It was years and years later before I was able to understand that my mom was seriously mentally ill. I don't know when she became so sick. I don't know why either. The first inkling for me was when my brother was born. then after my sister she got sick again. I don't know what happened before that. I know a little. My mom had 3 sisters and 2 brothers. 2 other sisters had died years before. I realized one day not a one of my aunts or uncles has ever mentioned a gift they got for any reason, a holiday story, a picnic they went on, nothing done as a family. This was back in the 20's and 30's. There is no picture of them as a family either. It is as if they were dropped on this planet as adults and that was it. My grandpa died when I was young. My grandmother died in the late 80's, never remarried.

My mom made several trips to the Willard Psychiatric Center, a state run facility. It seemed to take a long time to get there but I'm not sure. I believe on her first time in she became addicted to the medication they gave her. She then continued a life long cycle of doctors, hospitals and pharmacies for her "prescriptions". She took the usual tranquilizers and anti-psychotics of the time. She eventually became an alcoholic as well. She became drug seeking as addicts do. She manipulated people to get what she wanted. She was not above lying for it either. She claimed a back injury for pain pills. She had a shoe box, size 8, full of her prescriptions. And it was all my fault.

I think my mom hoped the drugs would quiet her demons inside. What ever they were. Instead it let them out and she had no control to stop them. I found out, recently, that my mother had been sent "away" to a group home or orphanage or detention centers. She never ate peanut butter because of her time there. I can't find any info on where she might have been sent or why. I have one surviving aunt and she claims not to know much because she is the youngest.

I know trivial things were punishable back then. What could my mother have done to deserve to be sent somewhere? I don't even know if she did something "wrong". Maybe she was sick. Maybe she got pregnant. I don't know.

It's part of the "family secrets" shit. Most families have them. Most families don't realize the repercussions of those secrets can last long past their death.

I tried to make her happy not realizing nothing would. She was a miserably unhappy woman. I don't think she meant to be. She missed a lot of good stuff. She would make nasty comments about me no matter what or how old I was.

I grew up feeling worthless. I think she did too. I grew up feeling unloved. I think she did too. I grew up hating my self. I think she did too.

I can't say I loved my mom. I tried. I really did. I can't say I respected her either. Although my dad said I should simply because she was my mom. I just told him no. It's not happening.

I don't think MY MOM meant to become my mom. I don't believe she wanted to hurt me and others. i don't think she could help herself. I'm not making excuses for her behavior. There is none. I am only just now understanding my mom. I am putting together what I believe is an accurate picture of my mom.

I think I am a good person. Now. It took me awhile to get here. had an issue with drugs and booze (surprise!) along the way. Other stuff interfered as well but I am on the road now. I'm smart, very funny, kind, curious, polite, honest, etc. Good people qualities. I had to have gotten some of that from my mother. And some from my dad (another story). I don't think it was all stuff I gained later in life. I had to have something to work with. Once the crap was out of the way. I could say "despite her" i turned out ok. Maybe. But I think if she had been given a chance she would have been MY MOM for ever.

As a pretty much single mom (hubby was hardly ever around) I can understand the stress of it. 3 kids, no help. I understanding wanting them to shut up. I have been right on the edge. I never went over it. I found someone to help me. That is what I don't understand, letting yourself go over that line. Like my mother did. I think she wanted to be kind, she was sometimes. She was funny once in a while.

I don't even know if I can forgive her. I don't think I can. Understanding her is better. I hope most parents realize those stupid family secrets can haunt those that follow. It was a big secret that she had been sent away. I understand the time it was but now is not then.

more later