Tuesday, May 20, 2014
I have been remiss... From the mouth of a hoarder!
It is the evening of primary election day in my northeastern US state. I just came in from work, and called my hoarding mother on my way home. It had been just a few days, and I know I was going to get a lot of FTMOAH...
Lather, rinse, repeat. And without further delay... Here we go!
"Do they not make those any more? [Her previous sentence was about the trailer pulled in next door]"
"The shoes I have that look like tennis shoes... [sparing you the overly long, overly awkward description of her clog casual shoes]?"
"I have looked at THREE SEPARATE STORES and I cannot find them anywhere!!!"
"I went to [names three local area Walmart stores]! None of them have them! Why I think..."
You went to one store. Walmart. Did you try the mall or a shoe store?
Telling her I was almost home and that I was planning to go for a short run.
"It is almost dark!"
Yes. [Her powers of observation are astute at 8pm...]
"Aren't you afraid to be out after dark?"
"Do you run with a group?"
"As fast as people drive there, aren't you afraid?"
"Do you wear black when you run at night?"
BANG. BANG. BANG. <sound of my head hitting the steering wheel>
"For a girl cat she is not very ladylike."
"Did it ever occur to you that if humans were meant to run we would be on all fours?"
Did it ever occur to you that the human body is made to be active?
"So, up there, do they..."
You do realize that I am much farther east, but only about 90 miles north of you, right?
"So like I said, up there..."
"So, Glenda now has a lump under her armpit. She had breast cancer years ago and had all that chemo, Tamoxifen and radiation. It is back isn't it? She is going to die isn't she?"
This was the tip of the iceberg for a 15 minute conversation. I have been calling her when I have been on the road a few minutes and sign off when I am approaching my exit. I simply cannot take much more than small doses of this without screaming or saying something really unnecessarily ugly. I do not want to be abrupt or rude, but... BUT. Life with a narcissistic, hoarding mother that cannot see anything but her own twisted point of view is challenging. And I keep trying, as pitiful as my efforts are.
Thank you for reading. Have a great week.