The thing about my mother and I is that the intimacy has not always been healthy. The roles have mostly been reversed from the first meltdown that I witnessed at age five to the second when I was just twelve and then again when I was fifteen. I don’t know where Mom went in those catatonic episodes but I do remember stepping into shoes that were way too big for me and accepting responsibility. I would protect and save my mother at all cost.
We have been psychologically and psychically linked for as long as I can remember. If she feels pain; I feel pain. Sometimes I don’t know where she ends and I begin.
This week I have challenged us to think about intimacy in all its different manifestations. At 62, I feel as if I am finally starting to figure some of it out, particularly how I protect myself from becoming too intimate.
And now, perhaps why.
Mom has had a second heart attack. The attempted intervention – a stent – only brought on another heart attack, so had to be aborted. The hospital is looking into medications to ease her suffering.
“Talk to her about palliative care,” my sister suggested.
So I talked to her. Yesterday she was in agreement, asked me to pray for her passing. Today, after a good night’s sleep, she’s not so sure. Meanwhile, why can’t I come see her. Oh yes, COVID.
It’s hard to let your walls down and allow someone else in, especially if those walls are the only boundaries in place.
More to mull over.
For now, thank you blessed WP community for all your words of wisdom and creative genius.
Just you n me…, Heart to Heart
A Craving, I Write Her
Facets of Intimacy, purpleinportland
Tickets to the Show, MMA Storytime
This old hotel, Eugi’s Causerie II
Hung By Threads, parallax
Intimate Moment with Photography, Stuff and what if…
See you tomorrow for a new challenge!