Mothers and Pain

Richard and I have been visiting my mother in her assisted living community where she decided to move to six months after my father died.

The closer I am to her, physically and emotionally, the shorter is the fuse that leads to my pain. Propinquity = pain.

I have always been her reservoir, the pool into which her more sinister emotions drain. I am also her mirror -- having to reflect back to her what an excellent mother she is. Without the reservoir and the mirror, she tends to crumble and become either immobilized by inertia or explosive with rage.

I understand these dynamics. I try to hover above them, even as I act the part of good daughter. That distance, between the self I play and the self I am, becomes the fire that ignites the fuse that leads to my pain.

She is in pain, herself. She is also at a time of life when she is losing control over what used to be her privileges -- driving, taking medication, smoking. So now she experiences everything as a control issue -- our encouraging her to drink more than 4 ounces of fluid a day, to get out of bed at least by 3:00pm, to not screech at service people who are not giving her what she wants when she wants it. Her pain has also become her instrument for coercing others into giving her some control back. She throws her pain on the receptionist's counter at the doctor's office to have her appointment bumped ahead of others who are waiting. Her pain invites her to sleep until noon and take three naps during the day. Her pain gets her all the medication she wants, which along with Ensure, is her main sustenance.

What I am writing about her may come across as harsh. I don't mean it to be. I mean it to be a pretty accurate representation. And I no longer feel harsh as I describe her in this way. I feel great sadness and compassion. I appreciate that she is who she is, that we have an umbilical connection, that I react as I do and then need some time to recover.

Luckily Richard was with me on this visit. He was my anchor point and at times my protector. Looking at him while holding her hand helped me appreciate that I have a love she has never known, and am very grateful for that.

Now, back home, Richard and I once again accompany each other. And once again, he offers me sweet, real empathy as I do what I do to get my pain level back down. It really does make things better. It allows me to leave her in her life and cherish that mine is very different, better - and that's OK.

In what situations does your partner serve as your anchor point?

My Mother, My Partner???

Usually when I write about couples and illness I refer to the two primary, romantic partners (with or without any romance). But when it comes to the ups and downs of my pain condition, my mother is still my main squeeze.

My mother spent the last five years largely laying down on the couch in her apartment, eating cottage cheese. Her main activities were going food shopping on Saturday nights and watching Law and Order and its derivatives. She moved into an assisted living facility a few weeks ago and, to our surprise and delight, has been reborn.

My mother listens to the daily live music that's played in her new home. And the same "gentleman" keeps asking her to dance. She's getting the reputation of being "the one who dances." Not bad as a new identity at age eight-three. And, not so coincidentally, my pain level, which peaked a few weeks ago when her anxiety over this transition was high, has now dropped.

I am a bit embarrassed that after so many years of meditation, milk thistle & co-enzyme Q10, psychotherapy, and disentanglement, my nervous system is still hard wired into my mother's emotional states. My head is leaking insights about our relationship and my historic role as her source of a good sense of self. I can kundalini breathe myself into a state of transcendence, but I can't seem to get beyond the slim fiber of umbilical cord that still ties us.

We are a dysfunctional couple. I love her. But had the choice been mine to make, I would have been her BFF and not her daughter.

Who are you entangled with? How does that affect your health or the health of your partner? And how have you tried to extricate yourself from knots that keep you tied down?