My mom was in a car accident a week ago. She was just transferred to a nursing home/rehab facility in the town I live in, about a 7 minute drive away and about 27 seconds from my office in the Village this afternoon.

For those who know me…you know this is a good thing and a bad thing. Good I can keep my eye on her, I’m close if something happens. Bad because our relationship is…complicated.

I’m gonna have lots of feelings of guilt when I don’t see her daily—she’s in my town! The thing is, I can’t. I honest and truly can’t. I can’t be around her for more than a few hours. We aren’t in contact on a regular basis, that’s not how this mother/daughter gig works for us.

As is, I’m already emotionally exhausted from the last week spending most days at the hospital visiting. I took “off’ Saturday for my own sanity and I felt bad.

Having her RIGHT HERE is gonna be a challenge.

Last year around this time I was trying to be her caretaker while she had her kidney removed (cancer) only to be utterly disregarded when she checked herself out of the hospital behind my back and then pretty much said FUCK YOU when I confronted her about it.

At that time I said I’m done. No more. Not again. I bought books on dysfunction and separating from toxic mothers, I was serious, this time.

But then Colleen one day channeled Cherry Jello from Gma Baker on the other side and I knew this meant I had to check in with my mom, like it or not. My Gma Baker is VERY PERSISTENT about these things (she came through in the last reading I had in Lilydale a few years ago and talked about my mother to me the entire time…) and for Colleen who has blocked reading me for the most part because we are around each other and close so often, well, I knew it was “something I had to do.”

Cherry Jello? Is what my Gma would make for my mom and my mom would make for me and my brother when we would get sick. Always Cherry. Warm Cherry Jello Juice. And only when sick.

I hadn’t talked to my mom in a few weeks at that point, when I called she had a kidney infection and had just been to the doctor and her surgery wound was not healing (surprise, this is what happens when you check yourself out of the hospital early and live in filth and squalor.)

As always there’s nothing I can do. But I was back in the loop, because, I suppose, it’s the right thing to do despite my inner conflicted desire for self-preservation.

Mom is now at the rehab nursing home and all I feel is her pain. Not her physical pain, but her psychic pain. Her deep depression “what’s the point of living anyhow? is there a meaning to life if this is all there is…what’s the purpose of living…” I can’t get these thoughts out of my head. All last night, all today. and they aren’t mine.

I had a long conversation with my brother last night about mom. More things out of my control. Like the fact he is convinced she is seriously addicted to pain meds…and so is her husband.

Of course she is. Between the two of them they have had enough surgeries and injuries to be hooked up to the pain med hotline for YEARS. I didn’t think about it…until he mentioned. In addition to being in serious pain from trauma her pain meds are being monitored, which is making things even worse.

How did I not think of this before?

While ruminating over this in my head over and over last night I ended up writing this to my brother.

I feel awful. I feel awful because I feel like there is just another thing we can’t do anything about and need to process and none NONE of it matters. And it kills me inside that none of it matters. It should matter, as her children but it doesn’t. And I hate this for us, selfishly. And that makes me feel guilty and like a bad person. Circle of thought. Over and over.

I knew I needed to write…to get out the real thoughts in my head and cut to the pain, but instead I avoided the words with every ounce of my being. I just couldn’t. Locking up these feelings really only make things more repressed, but this is how I’ve live my life for 43 years. What’s another day gonna do?

(Before the accident, I was doing SO WELL writing and focusing on spirituality…I have posts unwritten that I’m scared to write because writing makes it real. But I’ve started….and in the last week, I stalled completely.)


My mom and I are ABSOLUTELY spiritually connected. and not just in the way where I’m so much like her. I mean while sitting together in silence able to answer each other out loud the next minute. It happened several times this past week. I’ve been noticing more and more and this doesn’t surprise me.


Suicidal thoughts all day? Not fun.

I spoke to mom on the phone several times today, she is in deep…she used to work in nursing homes as an aide, she’s now in one. She is only 63 years old.

The second she can escape, I know she will. She will lie, manipulate anything to check herself out of there as soon as possible and her husband will be completely complicit and they will both not care at all what I or anyone else thinks.

But for now, in this moment she has no choice, two legs not working and a broken collarbone. She couldn’t get into her house if she wanted. And if they could get her in the house, she couldn’t get out of the wheelchair. No choice.

To make matters worse, she has a roommate who reminds her of the roommate Gma Baker had while she was in the home…a younger, morbidly obese woman who is incapable of moving around on her own. This woman is only a few years older than my mom. Coherent, not sad and elderly and frail.

(Aside: My only experience with nursing homes have been long-term, ultimately terminal. When my GPA was admitted, I felt every time I went to visit him, and I did often, that all he wanted to do was die. And he didn’t…for a long time, he was just there, unable to really communicate but awake with his own thoughts. HELL. ON. EARTH.

My Uncle Bill was very young when he was admitted—-probably my age, 40ish with terminal brain cancer, I never made it there to see him, I visited him all the time while he was in the hospital in Buffalo so when he was moved, I took a rest and let others take over. He was only there a few weeks before passing.

My GMA once she was admitted to the home—I think she came home at least once, but ultimately it was the same situation, we knew she was in there to die. Nursing homes are places people in my family go to slowly die. I know my mom feels the same way…and despite her circumstances honestly being short-term rehab because of trauma, I know she is thinking the same thing I am…)

I remember VIVIDLY not being able to handle seeing Gma for long because I just felt so damn bad for the roommate. At the time I had no idea I was an empath but all I could feel was the self-hatred…I assumed it was my own, because I was scared (AM SCARED) that this could be me someday. It probably was a bit of both.

So now, I have to deal with the guilt of seeing my mom and a roommate. I have to try to find some boundaries, just because I live in town doesn’t mean I can see her everyday. AND THIS IS COMPLETELY SELFISH but I know, know, know myself. She could be there 4-6-8-weeks. Boundaries would be needed if we HAD a healthy relationship, but we don’t.

I was struggling with this later this afternoon and told her I would NOT be in tonight but would come in the morning. She was “fine” with that. (She wasn’t of course.) And yes, she needs her rest and the move took a lot out of her but I LIVE IN TOWN. I SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE ONCE I HAD THE TRUCK TO GET THERE. And yet, I said no.

At this point, I was second guessing myself and for the first time since this “awakening” I flat out asked Spirit for a sign.

I asked “please give me a sign to let me know that I need to set boundaries…”

And then felt bad for demanding a sign.

So instead of writing, like I should have…I went back to scrolling down Twitter looking for new like minded people to follow. (This has become my M.O. the past few weeks when I know I should be writing, I scroll through Twitter looking for people who are writing instead.)

I SCROLLED DOWN THE PAGE JUST ENOUGH FROM WHERE I WAS (before demanding a sign..) to see THIS in the VERY next column.


Real Live Mom???

As in please don’t remind me that for the next I don’t know how many weeks I am going to be dealing with my REAL LIVE MOM so I need to make sure I set boundaries?

*The bio about a nap is also spot on. ALL I WANT TO DO IS SLEEP and NAP after I get out of visiting her in the hospital, it’s emotionally and physically exhausting.

HUGE SIGH. Even if I get better with shielding, this is different. It’s my mom. It’s in my backyard everyday real live mom, who is hurting badly.

I’m gonna need lots of strength…


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