Monday, July 16, 2012

shake the disease

for a long time, I believed that my mother hated me, despised me and wished me dead. I didn't make this up, she literally would scream, "I wish you were never born" so many times througout my lifetime. this made it pretty easy to come to this conclusion. On other nights, in a sobby voice, she'd whimper, "do you love me?"

my response was always, "yes mommy, I do love you. of course I do."

the stroke. some early morning in march, I get a call... it's not a surprise I had been trying to reach my mom through a busy signal for a few days. they were rushing her to the emergency room.

my mother was in the hospital in critical condition, and there we were (my sister and I) in her home. in her house without her in it. it felt weird, like she had died, like we were uninvited guests, like her ghost was everywhere. the place was so uncomfortable. looking for answers, trying to find my way I opened a drawer in her room and found an envelope, legal in size with a label from an attorney's office. it was her living will, her proxy and well...

the cover letter explicitly stated that I was evil, harmful, and that I would get nothing. she left everything to my sister and her ex-husband (my father) and a paultry trust for my son which he would get when he turned 23. nothing. her last words to me, embroiled on a page, spiteful, scathing, spitting words that I can see running past my eyelids day after day. she had printed out copies of my blogs (including pages from this one), other things she had googled, such as pages from a novella I wrote as evidence that I was deserving of one thing.. her hatred of me. (she will probably add a copy of this entry as more proof)

despite the fact that I read this document that pronounced me disowned, I continued to care for her day after day in the hospital. she couldn't move, barely speak, communicate clearly. I knew, my job as her daughter, was to keep her in a state of comfort, to wipe her down, feed her food, do whatever she needed to grasp onto bits of dignity and get cared for. yes, her will that explicity said I'm this horrible child existed, but my unconditional love for her prevailed. it still does.

I went to see my mother today, I brought her sumptious bagles and smoked fish, flowers, cleaned parts of her house, did errands. over coffee, we shared personal feelings and I let her know things that I felt were important. we spoke of her relationship to my son, the challenges I face as a single parent, and in that moment, I felt her mommy'ness. she was listening. we tackled a big job of cleaning up her jewelry drawer. I lovingly took apart the boxes of chains, trinkets, baubles and such and organized them in a way that made is easy for her to find the things she can still put on by herself. she gave me things, chunky earings, charm bracelets... much to my surprise. at the end of the organization, I offered to move the jewelry box so that it would be easier for her to reach, and moved a stack of neatly piled tank tops. in that instant, her face grimmaced, she shook and screamed... her emotional state automatically turned from calm and happy to this evil scary yelling mess. she couldn't handle it, I had made an unauthorized change in her wardrobe. while I assured her that I would make the pile perfect on the new shelf, it was too late.. she lost it.

screaming at me, calling me horrific insults, slurring and getting physical... the feelings that are all too familiar began to arise.

normally, I'd fight back, slam the box down on the ground, slam a door, yell back... but this time... I didn't!

mindfully, I completed the task of making her shelves neat as she raved besides me. I watched her, looked into her eyes and practiced metta, compassion and equinimity. I spoke back calmly. once the things were nicely arranged, I contined this state of mindfulness. I could feel the feelings, but I had the strength not to react. I didn't need to, it wouldn't change the fact that my mother is sick. not just physically sick, but mentally. it's not just brain dammage she endured, she is mentally ill.

my mother suffers from deep depression, mental illness, something I never understood before. I learned this while she was in the hospital. of course, to an outsider, this may have always been obvious. to me, I just saw a mother who hates me. I don't think she does, it's more that she is living in such a dark place, she can't be the mother I want, the one I deserved but never got.

you would think while hearing her scream horrific things about my hideious looks, my zoftic size, my lack of intelligence, what a horrible mother I am, and countless other things that roll so easily off her vitriolic tongue that I would react. well, a different version of me would.

because I now have the knowledge that she's sick, I am able to understand that she's in too much pain to know any better. she thinks it is ok to be this way, because that's all she knows. she's never gotten treatment, or therapy or taken any steps to get better. there's medication, a pile of drugs that are and are not prescribed, but this isn't the way out. sadly, I just see her deteriorating emotionally more and more, her illness engulfing her every fiber.

as my mother was physically pushing me out the door and yelling at me, in the way she usually does, I had an awakening... I didn't have to react. I didn't have to let it in. as I walked out ... calmly, I said, "I forgive you, mommy, I forgive you."

Thursday, July 12, 2012

Motherhood is My Greatest REFUGE

Just as we got to the gates of the Insight Meditation Center, I looked at all the kids playing in the yard and figured, "that must not be it." and kept driving down Pleasant Road. What retreat center would be filled with that many children? Oh, the one hosting the annual Family Buddhist Retreat. I turned around and sure enough, that was exactly where we needed to be.

Walking into the front door of IMS for the first time, I was overcome by a shyness and awkward feeling.... we are a long way from anything familiar. These people... I don't know any of them...who are they? will I fit in? OMG, I don't fit here at all... It wasn't Zman I was worried about... it was me. Looking around at the excitement, the people who knew each other, catching up on life's details ... I found myself retreating... sitting quietly, turning my social uncomfortability into a mindfulness practice.

We gathered for the first time as a group in the hall. Each of us had claimed our spot for the week. Sitting close to the front and off to the side meant easy access to the escape hatch and we didn't have to see all the people we don't know. Safe. We held hands, participated in the singing, and hoped that the week would be healing for our challenged relationship. Yeah, you should know... the Zman and I struggle a lot in our relationship. It is filled with lots of challenges. We agreed to set intentions to cure things, be honest, share and find our way back to the sweet spot where laughter between us reigns supreme.

That anonymity didn't last long, we were asked to STAND UP (omg) in front of all the sangha, and when the teacher asked if someone would be our buddy family... there was no response. Oh, we're them, those people no one wants to like. Oh us? But that lasted for only a few more moments, and I made my first connection ... we found our buddies.

The topic of the weekend was Refuge. Over the course of the retreat, I accepted and trusted that I could take refuge in my new found sangha, and when I made that choice to trust... possibilities began to emerge. I made authentic connections that lead to meaningful discussions. It took a day or two to accept, we were exactly where we needed to be... among our sangha. I met so many amazing people who had so much to teach me and commiserate about the challenges we face as parents on the path. The conversations that evolved over the course of the retreat illuminated so much for me. I never expected to find those connections when I arrived at IMS on Saturday afternoon. In my heart, I know I have found refuge in this sangha for which I'm immensely greatful.

In my one on one work with one of the teachers, I allowed her to take me to one of the darkest places I go... and realized, I do have the ability to be mindful in the greatest states of anger. My practice serves me better than I realize, and I should create more openings for mindfulness in even the darkest of moments.

There is refuge in my mindfulness. There is refuge on my cushion. There is refuge in others. There is refuge in my heart. I can be safe, happy and free in the dharma. There is room for me in practice... and for the first time in a long time.. I felt I belong.

Belonging in the Buddhist community has been something I've struggled with immensely. After some dharma drama last year, the demise of the DPXHV group and the issues that arose ... I let my delusion punish me and teach me that I'm not worthy of the practice. This is not the case. I'd like to proudly say, the dharma isn't something that is deserved, it is earned and wow, I HAVE EARNED IT!

I also fully recognize, that I'm a total newb, that my green state of being makes me nothing more than a student. I have plenty of time to savor and learn, grow and bloom. No need to rush when there are so many gifts to be received in the practice.

Over the course of five days... I learned so much... I didn't expect the personal work to be there, but it was. I chose to be rigorously honest, and open myself to this new 'net'... and take Refuge in this new found sangha. What a gift!

Some things I've uncovered... Joy is a choice ... and something both my son and I want to cultivate in our daily lives. We choose Joy!!!

Using my angry scary mommy voice is not a useful or skillful tool. I can find other ways to be softer and still get across the message without the excessive force of my great intensity. There is a way to present clear intention without the intention to force 'fear'.

My perception that arises from assumptions is not accurate. I am causing harm by assuming I know better than anyont else. In many instances, I can easily arrive at an idea that I know what is best in a situation... but when I let go .. listen, absorb and take time to get all the information... I can discover.. I have much to learn.

I was reminded in a dharma talk about the perils of our attachment to sense pleasures, and was given permission to begin again anytime I want to. We talked about that idea of having a safe space in which to practice, and the value of reminding people of their gifts rather than exposing how they disappoint us. These clues, lessons and reminders earmarked places in my citta and my hope and intention is to utilize them the next time those feelings of discomfort arise.

My son is one of my greatest teachers. From him I continue to learn so much. He is my true refuge. To him, I show deep gratitude for teaching me the true meaning of Metta and giving me a purpose of service I never knew I'd be able to perform.