***Preface about this piece which came out of the blue today. My intent isn’t to bash my adopted mother, but this post has been looming in the back of my mind, waiting for the right time to come out. As with all my raw, honest, and emotional pieces, the purpose is to put me on a path of healing and not one of hate.
You don’t have to have psychic abilities to have a “visit” from a loved one who has passed in one of your dreams. Whenever I have had a “visit,” I remember it clearly, where dreams are cloudy, and I forget the details.
This morning, just before I woke up, I dreamt about my mother, Eileen, who passed away in October. It’s just like our relationship my whole life, not knowing it was real or fake.
My mother put on a good show when anyone else was around, including Marty. She dripped with sugar, complimenting me after compliment, later saying something to hurt me when we were alone.
My mother bragged about my successes constantly, which were never real. She wanted people to compliment her for being my mother. She took credit for my achievements my whole life. For instance, the only reason why I have thick beautiful hair now is that she cut it often when I was little.
My mother told people how much she missed me and would have them call from the nursing home, giving me a guilt trip saying how sweet and wonderful she was and how much she missed me.
When I got there for a visit later that day or the next day at most, she treated me like shit and would end the visit after only a few minutes. Even when I told her I rearranged my work and production schedule to come to see her, she still ended the visit with a smug smile, thinking she had won.
The first few years she lived at the care facility, I always brought something with me I thought she would like, such as her favorite candy, flowers, a new piece of clothing, or food she loved. It didn’t matter what it was; she didn’t use it, like it, or eat any of them.
Each time I visited her, I had high hopes she would be nice to me and that we would have a pleasant visit. She was when staff was around; it was another story as soon as they left the room. I always left in tears. Every. Single. Time.
I did this over and over again. Marty would remind me of Albert Einstein’s quote about insanity: “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”
Eventually, I stopped expecting her to be nice to me and for us to have a good visit. We had maybe five friendly visits in the eight years she lived at the care facility after her stroke.
That’s not many good visits considering in the beginning; I went to see her every day. Then I went twice a week, then weekly, then every other week.
It is terrible to say, but covid was a blessing that I could no longer be guilted or manipulated to come to see her. She still pulled her same tricks when we would FaceTime.
On our Facetime calls, she couldn’t play actress with someone else in the room. By the way, Meryl Streep had nothing on Eileen’s acting abilities. Instead, she would choose to have conversations with the person holding the iPad and not me or the four of us, even on Christmas morning 2020.
After that Christmas morning, I had it. I pulled back from her a couple of years before after being in therapy and realizing my unhealthy relationship with her was making me not only mentally and emotionally sick but physically also. In 2018, I had a massive ulcerative colitis flare-up and was back in counseling due to depression. She didn’t care about either of those two things when a social worker talked to her about it.
I remembered all the tricks she pulled on me my whole life. How mean she was throughout my childhood and teen years. I never talked about it to anyone. I thought it was my fault because I was a bad kid. I also remembered how she lied and manipulated not only me but every person in her life. I wrote about this in my blog post, “Aunt Claire’s gift.“
It turned my stomach watching her be phony to the staff at the care facility. She received excellent care and treatment over the years, but she threw everyone under the bus and reported every person trying to get them in trouble for doing nothing. She was known as “Eileen, the one who lies.” No shit!
True to her character, she did the same thing at all her workplaces before her stroke. She was fired from every one of her jobs or left on bad terms.
In therapy, one day, we uncovered I had attachment disorder, which made perfect sense that no matter how poorly she treated me over the years, I was afraid to lose her. That’s why I acted “insane;” refer back to the above description.
Through mediation and a lot of energy work, I could “cut the apron strings,” known in energy work as cutting the ethereal cords. If you want to learn more about ethereal cords, here is a link to read.
My mother’s behavior continued until she took her last breath on October 20, 2021. After she passed, I was left feeling completely relieved, without any grief or sadness whatsoever. I still feel like that today.
Usually, after someone passes, I get messages from heaven letting me know that the person is still around. I haven’t found or heard a thing from her. It feels like she doesn’t “need” her little Cinderella anymore. I did find two pennies together shortly after her passing in a puddle from my dad, letting me know she was there.
Perhaps, I don’t get any messages because her energy isn’t strong enough to do those things since she wasn’t the nicest person, which is entirely accurate in most cases. Kind, decent, loving people are usually still the same when they cross over and try to comfort us.
So back to this morning’s dream. I have found that loved ones appear how they want you to remember them in their visit, looking their best. She looked like she did when Noah was a baby, hair, makeup, and nails done, wearing a nice outfit. She was smiling and was very happy.
In this morning’s dream, Marty and I got off an elevator, and she ran up to us saying, “Oh my God, I never thought I’d see you guys again!” She hugged us and looked genuinely happy, not her fake happy look.
We briefly walked down the hallway with her; then, she was gone. I woke up immediately when I realized she wasn’t there. I was confused about if it was a visit or a dream; this doesn’t usually happen because of my strong intuition.
I came downstairs crying and told Marty about my dream and how I was questioning if it was a dream or a visit. He told me it could be whatever I wanted it to be.
Of course, I want it to be a visit, but I am not sure since the whole thing is fuzzy, and I can’t remember much. As the day goes on, the dream gets cloudier and fainter.
The sad thing is that even after all the shit she put me through, I am still that little girl who just wants to please and make her mommy proud and happy because she adopted me, her “present” from God. Maybe that’s why I always felt like just another possession of hers.
I am insane. No, excuse my french, I am fucking nuts!
