Three signs…

Artwork courtesy of Lousy drawings for good people.

My mother passed away 1 1/2 years ago, and I haven’t received any signs, not that I expected any. I got a sign shortly after she passed from my dad.

I wrote about it finding two pennies in a puddle, one with his birth year and the other was hers. 

It was him telling me she was with him. I said out loud good for them. At that point, I was still going through a lot of angry and sad emotions, but I was glad they were together.

Yesterday, I was putting some change into our change bucket, and I saw a quarter with the year 1957, the year my mother graduated from high school.

I knew it was a sign and said,” I know it’s from you mom.” There, I acknowledged it but didn’t feel one way or another 

Today, a butterfly, also a sign for my family, tried to fly into the sliding glass door of the living room. I shooed it away and said, ” I know that was you.”

Other than acknowledging the sign, the one that made me speak to her was a doozy. It’s funny how the other side is relentless in getting their point across.

While I spring cleaned upstairs this morning, hey, better late than never, I went through and organized my belly dance jewelry, my own jewelry, and things I kept from my mother. 

I’ve gone through Eileen’s shit so many times it’s ridiculous, so this was the final clean-out or keep. I kept some costume jewelry that I liked and started wearing. I had a box of stuff I wasn’t sure what to do with.

I opened the box I didn’t know what to do with and said, “Holy shit.” There were two silver circles, one engraved with Mother and the other said, Grandma. I didn’t buy them, so I guess she did. 

I put them in a new narrowing-down box last week, but today I found them together with a white hair on them. Her hair color after her stroke. Weird. It started to make me angry.

I spoke to my mother aloud and said, “Well, Mom, I hope you now realize how rotten and terrible you were to me and how much you hurt and abused me.”

I kept going, “ I am working really hard to let go and move on, but I haven’t been able to forgive you yet. I’m not sure if I ever can.”

It’s exactly what I wish I had the courage to say while she was alive, but as a narcissist, she would not have understood and would turn the tables on me like always. Narcissists are never wrong or to blame for anything.

How do I feel? Most of the day, I felt numb, like when she died. It didn’t make me feel better even though she threw me some signs.

As I try to heal, each time I think of something she did to hurt me, and there are a million, I tie a balloon to it in my mind’s eye and let it go. 

It has been working since I don’t think about the hurt as much. I really didn’t need a monkey wrench thrown at me today. It made me upset even though I woke up in a great mood and had many projects planned.

I spoke to her again this afternoon and said, “ One of my spirit guides told me not to take your behavior personally. She said it was like a business contract that I agreed to it, and we both know how that went, don’t we?”

I went on to say. “I tried my hardest to help you, even though I didn’t know about our contract. I held up my part of the bargain by always giving you another chance.”

“Guess what, Mom, you blew it. You had thousands of chances since I was nine to treat me better, but you never did, especially when it was just you and me.”

“You were a complete phony around other people that I questioned myself over and over if it was me.” “Have you found out what your sister told me before her surgery?” (She died from complications.)

I got a call many years ago from my Aunt Claire. That’s when I found out my mother was a narcissistic monster. Aunt Claire told me It was all her and not me.

She said everyone in the family knew what was happening, but no one did anything about it. She asked me for forgiveness, and I told her I had nothing to forgive.

That night on the phone with Aunt Claire, she told me the truth. She gave me the greatest gift I ever received; it meant the world to me.

I kept saying, “Really?” I thanked her over and over. We said I love you before we hung up; that was our last conversation. She passed away right after surgery which left me grief-stricken. I still talk to her and continue to thank her for that phone call.

Turns out my life was a series of tests as part of that contract I agreed to. Her stroke and living for nine years in a nursing home was another big one. She pulled every trick in the book. She wove stories made up of manipulation, guilt, and lies.

I never lost my shit or cried in front of her. At the nursing home, I would walk down the hall, crouch, and silently cry so hard my body shook. 

The staff knew what was happening because they were all aware of the fucked up situation. They would let me cry in peace, or someone would come over and rub my back.

I found out I had to calm down before I tried to drive. One day, I was so upset I was almost t-boned when I turned out of the driveway. She really knew how to get to me.

She knew how to emotionally abuse me knowing I would torture myself for hours or days about what happened even after. This started at the age of nine and continued until she died.

No wonder I was very sick with ulcerative colitis since I was 14 and diagnosed at 16 with a severe case. She was relentless, always finding something to punish me for.

Thinking about all that shit makes me cry; that’s why I am trying to let stuff go. I realize I still have a long way to go, as I am crying while writing this. As in life, she got to call the shots by sending me signs, but it left me sad and angry all over again—a typical Eileen move. 

I don’t know why she sent signs. The hopeful little girl in me wished she was trying to apologize, but in life, the narcissist that she was never apologized for anything to anyone. It’s hard to believe that could even be a possibility. 

When I think I am starting to heal, I am not. What the fuck? It’s like she pulled the rug out from under me again. One step forward and two back.

I needed to write this today; I’ll probably lose a few more readers who don’t like when I write painful posts like this; oh well, life isn’t always a bowl of cherries.

I am mentally and physically exhausted; I completed all the projects on my to-do list. We have a sparkling clean bathroom and bedrooms. Now that I have taken care of the jewelry, I know exactly where and what I have.

I’ve never been so organized before, with the entire home. There is no more clutter, and everything has a place. No hidden garbage bags with crap or totes are filled to the brim. You know what? It feels fabulous!

Thanks so much for reading, guys. Love to you all. ~julz

*** The editing on this piece may not be perfect; I am headed to bed but wanted to publish this first.