What Is A Mom?

Albert Brooks is one of the most underrated actors, in my opinion. In the movie "Mom,"

which he wrote and co-starred in with Debbie Reynolds, he moves home as a middle aged

man, trying to figure out where his life has gone awry. At first his mother, Debbie Reynolds, is completely clueless why he wants to do this....... but by the end of the movie, she changes as much as he does. I have seen this movie more times than I can count. I am a big fan of the subtleties of life that Albert Brooks takes us through. The dry humor, that is so real it is almost nauseating for those of us who have lived certain oddities! The pain that we see, unfiltered,

raw...... through his sometimes brash and rusty armor he has taken off, laid aside...... let us in.

I understand him so much, his quest...... Why? I have been on that non stop quest to try to make sense of where I come from. Why I behave the way I do. I, too have tried to go back, short of

moving in with the folks again, to find out why? It has unfortunately not brought the wonderful resolution as in the ending of the movie that Albert Brooks experienced.

I once again visited home, as many other times before. Her home is within twenty minutes of where I live.

My tolerance for things in life has increased the older I have gotten, but deceased with my Mom.

I have tried in every conceivable way to rectify this situation. Endless stories I have written about this woman. The problem for me is and always be..... the name. The words MOM attached to her's. So confusing, such a contradiction. Sheer pain. I have walked away so many times,

only to come back to try again..... she's my mom. This weekend, the after affects hit hard, once again.... from seeing her.

It had me come to some deeper realizations about the affects this woman leaves on my soul.

It is not that I don't realize that she has always informed anyone within ear shot my business.

From the tender age of twenty, people that were near strangers would come up to me and state:

Your mother tells me you are getting a divorce..... you left your husband, why? It went on and on through the years. Nothing was off limits... whatever suited her fancy.

When I tried to explain why I couldn't be around her, needed to take a break but loved her, she would tell people I was in a Cult. As the years went on, went through a deep depression and learned I was Bipolar, she would announce it to anyone and everyone my most private details. These were things I hadn't told anyone, yet I wasn't allowed the dignity of sharing

in my own time. My friends I hadn't seen in years knew, because of her lack of boundaries. I didn't even have a chance to get comfortable with myself first.

She would announce anything, usually what she perceived negative. Get it off of her..... point the finger wherever she can. Never the positive. A couple of days ago, she started

in again. It always takes me a little while to process the level of betrayal. I was sending out my writings to some Publishers .........it wasn't that I just started shaking and cracking from general

nerves. It was the undermining that I realized I allowed myself to still be part of. During the night I felt like an earth quake hit me....... and I was shaking, being ripped apart. I was shaken to my foundation. I realized, how can I allow this anymore? I know what love is. I certainly was not shown it. Have worked my whole life to find it, be a part of it, know it, and hopefully in some very small way....... try to spread it.

This anger, rage, bullying, unkindness, backstabbing....... and then throw Religion into it. All in the name of God. I am going to burn in Hell so she tells me. For simply living life according to me, finally. She will pray for my soul. I burst. I have tried. So hard. Ridiculously. Each time I have come back, trying with love. My heart is broken. It needs to heal.

I have no more to give to an unhappy woman who will not look within. I have wanted nothing more, than to be able to be with her in her final years. My soul is crying. It is scorched and on fire.

I need to now put a salve on it and heal. Really heal. There is nothing more I can do, and that is the greatest conflict I have..... pain. What I do realize. I cannot subject myself to this unhappy, angry woman's tirades and wrath anymore. I cannot afford to. I crumble and break. She gives it no much as an afterthought. Mine or anyone else's devastation. She chooses to shut it all off...... point fingers at.......the nearest and dearest. Those who show her kindness.

My heart hurts. It is Valentines Day. I am surrounded by love in my home. I am typing on the new laptop my Raymond gave me for Valentines Day. I cried and cried because I felt so unworthy. What I need to do is wrap myself even tighter in it..... the warmest, plushest blanket made of purple velvet. It is her world...... the cold, dark anger. I do not accept the

residue from my mother's poison. Inappropriate, thoughtless public discussions about her daughter. Unkind words.

They have seared me. Made me slow to trust that I am loved ....... I am enough just as I am.

I am learning. All I have are my words, my truth. This is my heart. I am who I am.

This is all we really have anyway..... when we cut to the chase. Our hearts. What do we really want to say? We can dance around..... or we can get to the heart.

I choose the second one. No matter the consequences, that's all that really matters.

-Clare