Thanks to my Mother

Today I am thankful for my mother.

This was the first year in a long time that I saw my mother on Thanksgiving. I’ve seen her plenty of other places but not on holidays since she moved on her own (from her boyfriend at the time).

I occasionally watch that show, Intervention, and as nutty as this sounds I feel like my mother went through rehab. I feel like for the first time in many years I have her back. She is my mother again; she asks how I am and listens; she visits me; and I have not had to talk her down in a few months. It’s nice, very nice.

Admittedly, I have never been close to my mom. There was a time my senior year of high school where we both called truce and enjoyed a few months of mutual companionship. Things got better from there, and then got worse.

But my mother has always been temperamental in mood, selfish, and completely oblivious to how her actions affected others. I watched as she verbally abused my younger sister the way she had my other sisters and I and tried so hard to keep her from going over the edge so many times. She was like a kettle constantly steaming. Anything could set it off.

Her first breakdown came after the aforementioned boyfriend kicked her out. I thought it was another act, play for attention, but I was there and did everything I could to help her get better. The years ahead for her were tough. She was a single mother with no real skills or education and she was struggling to keep things going for her and my sister. There were rough moments, but they would pass and soon I assumed everything was going well.

Until I found out about the secret hospital visits for chest pains. I had taken her a couple of times myself, as did my older sister, but apparently there were others and one occasion where she called 911. My younger sister, 15 at the time, watched the whole scene, with the paramedics checking my mother, and was sworn to secrecy. To point that one of my sister’s came to the house that night and never knew what had happened. She was also told not to mention anything about the previous visits either. There were also deep depressions and whole days my mother would just lie around doing nothing that I never knew about.

It came out one night when my mother called in a panic, she couldn’t breathe. She went to the emergency room and I joined her. The tests came back fine, but still she couldn’t breathe. The doctors tried to explain that the problem was not physical, but my mother was convinced there was something medically wrong. Two days later, and my older sister got a call to pick up my mother from the doctor’s office. Convinced that there was a problem, she flipped out on the physician, begging him to prescribe a drug that would have interacted badly with her current meds and killed her. She wouldn’t leave and kept telling the doctor she didn’t care, so they called my sister. It was then that a psych evaluation was suggested. They deemed her suicidal.

For the second time, my mother was admitted into the “relaxation” home. This time I forced her to tell the truth, to be honest with the doctors, and to not self-diagnosis herself as she had a habit of doing. She would go into the doctor and explain to him what the problem was, even provide all the evidence up front, and since none of it was ever major and seemed to fit, they would always just go along with it and assume she was right This time, though she was not fully convinced it was not a physical problem despite the tests and what the doctors had told her, for the first time she began to give into the idea that it was her mind that was causing it.

My mother was diagnosed bi-polar, and though it was a very difficult time, and heartbreaking to see her in that condition, it was like a new start for my family. For the first time, we had a reason and the promise of a better future, and everything made sense. The rapid change in moods, the inability to admit her actions were wrong, and the violence.

With medication and therapy, my mother has become, more than just herself again. She has become a person who I am proud of and respect. There have been bumps,  including lithium toxciity and a group home stay, and it’s a continual process, but one that she is determined to stay committed to.

So today, I am thankful, because even though I am far from being a little kid anymore, I realized how much I still need my mother and I am so grateful that all of her is there again.

Look at my New Target T-shirt

The other day while frequenting my local Wawa — for those of you who do not know, it’s a gas station/convenience store that’s quite popular in my neck of the woods — I spotted a sign for Wawa signature clothing while pumping gas. It included baby clothing.

Really????

Is this what it has come to? It’s not enough that we are saturated with marketing messages and slogans and overpriced clothing, and led to believe that we need to buy a certain brand or design to be deemed socially acceptable, we are now being presented with clothing from our local friendly corporation? Will l be walking around with a Target T-shirt soon?

OK, so I don’t want to knock Wawa too much. Honestly, they freaking rock — cheap gas, great coffee, yummy soft pretzels, an ATM with no fees, regardless of your bank, and when I smoked, I could get cheap cigarettes — well cheaper than some other places. All around a fabulous place. However, I think the money I have spent on junior swiss cheese hoagies over the years, cancels out my need to personally advertise for them.

Yes, they are a family-run business, and there are many hometown establishments that sell their wares, but I think when you get to the point where you’re forcing out smaller establishments, and there’s three of your locations within a four-mile stretch, you cancel out the unique, hometown, sentimental flavor.

But it’s the idea of it that offends me more than Wawa wanting to put their face on a onsie. Can we not escape advertising anywhere? Does everyone want a piece of us? I mean clearly they are a store that is trying to sell me things, I get this, but it’s like as soon as they get one piece of us, they want more. It’s greed and it’s everywhere. The country is in such a downturn and largely because people couldn’t get enough in their pockets they just wanted more, and even with such dire situations going on in so many homes, they still want us. Constant stories how we need to go out spend; how the retail industry is hurting; how we need to spend our money to fuel the economy.

When the stimulus package went out, they were running stories about the fears of people putting the money in savings or paying off credit card bills. I am not dumb I realize money needs to be pumped into the economy to keep everything stable and running. But maybe we have just gotten too big; pushed for too much. We wanted everything at our fingertips and corporate America responded and gave us what we wanted and we took it and now it’s like a big monster that just needs to be fed all of the time to keep it moving.

The saddest thing is, it is the small businesses and the minions that are going to hurt the most. All you hear about it the large banks, car companies, and the likes. But for the most part, even with bankruptcy and collapses, they’ll be OK, their employees not so much. The local, small-town businesses will probably not fair as well, and many are being forced to close already.

So maybe advertising does work, but perhaps not in the way Wawa intended. That sign has got me thinking about the importance of buying local, of trying to help the small guy, while still putting my money into the economy — only the part of the economy I feel needs it the most.