Sunday, May 13, 2007

What shall we do about Barbara?

My mother died in September 1992.

With an impeccable sense of timing she shuffled off this mortal coil within a few weeks of the cessation of my first marriage. I don’t think she knew about my separation, since she was pretty much non compos mentis by that time. Anyway, she didn’t really like my first wife.

I am always struck on Mother’s Day by the fact that I have never grieved her passing. That realization bothers me – a bit – but not a whole lot. I have grieved the passings of many others in my life: grandparents; my father; friends, even pets. But, for some reason, with Mom, the emotion doesn’t genuinely exist.

Anyway, I have made oblique references to my mother periodically in this blog, but I thought today I might elaborate a bit more. Who knows, I might even find it cathartic?

This blog isn’t, by the way, a ‘poor me’ offering. We all have had ‘stuff’ to contend with and furthermore, I don’t believe in blaming anything whatsoever on a lousy childhood. We set our own courses in life with what tools we have. Fortunately, I have a few, even if I didn’t realize how many until I’d gotten a firm grip on myself.

Anyway, my mother (whose name was Barbara, and I’ll refer to her by name henceforth, and who looked a little like the woman in the accompanying graphic when I was a small boy) was an alcoholic. That’s OK. There are lots of them, both active and recovering, and I’ve known many, including some very fine people. But, my mother was an unrepentant alcoholic, and that is difficult to deal with. I’ve actually written published and well-received articles on unrepentant alcoholics, but in them I suggest no answers because, even in my years as a professional counsellor, none ever really manifested themselves.

So, long and short of it was, she drank herself to death and that was that.

Barbara was a very bright girl. Raised in an impoverished colonial British gentry family, and one of seven siblings, she was smart. She skipped two grades in school and could have gone on to a PhD if she’d had the will. She didn’t. Siblings accomplished many wonderful things. She didn’t.

Barbara was also very pretty, classy looking and speaking, witty, well-read, artistic and capable of accomplishing much. She didn’t.

She settled into some sort of ennui and seems to have lost focus along the way. She had three sons. I think she liked us. None of us is sure if she loved us. She never showed it in any sort of overt manner, like hugs, or kisses. She read to us at bedtime, tended to us when we were sick, and when we were little she was never threatening. She was just amazingly aloof and regarded the world with a sort of Mona Lisa half smile. Sort of bemusement and amusement combined, if you will.

My dad worked hard. He was a professional and gained a lot of accolades in his academic calling. He kept Barbara very well, even though I was convinced they detested each other. Their arguments in my childhood were frightening. In later life they settled into a sort of torpor in which he worked and she drank – more all the time.

I got to know Barbara best when I was in my teens. She introduced me to lots of literature and I began to read voluminously so we could discuss books. We had a kind of companionship of similar intellects, I guess. We were kind of equals, but not Mother and Son.

And then, by the time my brothers and I left home and she was left with just her and my father, the boozing got worse – and worse – and worse, and was eventually punctuated by hospital stays and bizarre 4 a.m. phone calls because the drinker nods out during the day in winter, awakens, and doesn’t know if it’s 4 in the afternoon or 4 in the morning.

And, eventually she died. We knew it was going to happen. I’ve often wondered in retrospect if an intervention might have helped. But, when somebody is in such a state of denial, I doubt it. She chose her path for reasons best known to her, I know not why.

I doubt if I ever will.

Thank you for your patience on this Mother’s Day.



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11 Comments:

Blogger andrea said...

You sound remarkably balanced about your mother, but even then it's hard, isn't it? Intellectually easy to get, emotionally not so much. What I got from your post was that besides being an alcoholic she was possibly also a narcissist. I am well-acquainted with the characteristics of Narcissistic Personality Disorder (I am the child of one myself), and have read that alcoholism often accompanies it. I think the narcissism is ultimately more damaging, though I can't speak from experience. There is a recent and very funny book that you must read about an alcoholic narcissist written by Canadian Trevor Cole and is based very closely on his father. It's called "Norman Bray in the Performance of His Life." I was so mesmerized by how well he nailed the narcissist, and with such excellent perspective and humour, that I couldn't put it down.

Brought to you by Didrooglie's Book Recommendations :)

11:54 AM  
Blogger elleeseymour said...

What a sad waste of a life of a beautiful and talented woman, I'm glad you have so many special memories of her too, that she gave you a love for literature.

Do you think there is enough support for the families of alcoholics? It must be terribly difficult for them.

Losing your mother, and the breakdown of your marriage at the same time, must have been a very difficult time for you.

1:34 PM  
Blogger Janice Thomson said...

It's these hard times that shape who we are isn't it Ian. We learn so much, though sometimes it takes years to realize this. Such a poignant story and one that I relate to very well. One thing your Mom did have going for her was a remarkable son...it's been a pleasure to know you via the net.

5:26 PM  
Blogger CS said...

It sounds like your mother just didn't have it in her to connect in an emotionally intimate way and maybe the alcohol dependence stemmed (in part) from that. Very sad to me when parents take the route of neglect.

7:53 AM  
Blogger Bibi said...

Hmmm...makes you think. So many people blame everything on a lousy childhood, and you're so right in moving beyond that even though it's not always easy to do.

Sounds as though you took those experiences, no matter how negative, and turned them around for you.

9:21 AM  
Blogger Voyager said...

Sad story. But I admire that you are not bitter and blaming, and have clearly risen above it all.
V.

10:02 AM  
Blogger Leesa said...

Personally, I think when you don't start grieving right away when someone passes, the grieving seems so much more detached later on. Here is my view on it:

When you learned to write, you wrote other's people's words first - their sentences over and over. Griefing "after the fact" seems like you are going over the same sentences over and over instead of inventing them anew.

Ian, I don't know you nor did I know your mother, but I think it was more than the alcohol that kept you from grieving initially. Maybe you were going through so much stuff with your first wife that you needed to be somewhere else when your mother died. You needed to attend to another relationship and that grieving later just did not feel like the same thing.

Of course, this could all be in my head, and that is fine too.

10:52 AM  
Blogger Veronica said...

Hi Ian, thank you for posting this. I am a recovered alcoholic (sober for 7 yrs) in a relationship with the son of an alcoholic (his mother died when he was 8). The tragedy of alcoholism is no alcoholic need die of this terrible disease, recovery is possible for all. What really kills alcoholics is their thinking not the alcoholic, we get trapped in a way of thinking that is so painful only drinking relives it. In 7 yrs of sobriety the world hasn't changed but how i see it has. And your right all alcoholics are quiet brilliant deep down we are capable of anything, if we can find the keys to escape our prison. Your mothers truest self loved you deeply, she just couldn't find the keys to free herself, this is no reflection on you. Good luck.

11:20 AM  
Blogger Dr. Deb said...

Mother's Day and Father's Day are very emotional days for many. In my line of work, I see the tougher side of these days within the people I treat. It's clear to me that you saw your mother as more than just a mom to you. That is very special, albeit bittersweet.

5:08 PM  
Blogger Alda said...

My mother was a narcissist who drank. She died in February. I felt very little emotion when she died - I think it has something to do with the fact that I had already grieved the absence of our relationship over many years.

My primary emotion was anger. Interestingly, I wrote a post similar in nature to this one on my own blog. It was extremely catharctic and I was very surprised at how much good came out of it. Many people commented and emailed me, and said they found themselves in my story. It was extremely rewarding.

Thank you for sharing.

4:23 PM  
Blogger OHN said...

My story is very similar except the absent alcoholic parent was my father. It still ticks me off (at the age of 49) that he chose the life he did. But, I think most of all it makes me sad that he never really knew me or what I was able to become in spite of his indifference.

7:59 AM  

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