Monday, February 6, 1984

The woman that I help care for and refer to as Mom has no resemblance to my 'other' Mother, and that's the reason I can do such a thorough job of taking care of her. My Mother became a raving madwoman after my Dad died and certainly wasn't a stable personality before that time. I have very few recollections of the first thirteen years of my childhood and the recollections that I do have are almost invariably when Mother wasn't around. I'm quite sure the reason I don't remember is the mental abuse perpetrated on me by my Mother, and perhaps, unwittingly by my Dad. Mother has always wanted to live in the country, away from other people, and Dad was glad to live a reclusive life, and not have to deal with Mother's behavior in front of other people. Fortunately, I have disassociated the last twenty-seven years from the first part of my life, quite successfully, although I have some strange forebodings that I have no explanation for. It was only after I had escaped from my very controlled environment that I have clear recollections. I can understand why, because of what I can remember after I was twelve or thirteen. My Mother didn't sleep! She would run the vacuum at three o'clock in the morning, even on school nights, just to wake someone, usually me. If she couldn't wake me up any other way, she's come in my room in the middle of the night and start talking loudly to me for hours. Mother only slept about four hours, maybe, and anyone who slept more than that, was "sleeping their life away"., which naturally couldn't be tolerated. When I was about thirteen, I could physically extricate myself from my home life and have tried desperately to personally extricate myself ever since. All of my material success has come into being because of my desperate need to remain distanced from my Mother. It is only since she has been on anti psychotic medicine, the last five months, that she's pleasant to be around and is someone totally unlike my 'other' Mother. As I grew older, my Dad and I became somewhat close, as close as two people with a forty-four year age difference could be. He used to tell me "She's nuts", motioning with his index finger and creating a spiral movement towards his head, but it wasn't until after he died that she became a raving madwoman, and I had to try to deal with her craziness full force. Even now, I have some irrational fears, examples: a knock on the door when I'm not expecting any (it might be my Mother trying to invade my artificially, carefully contrived island), the phone ringing (it's a verbal tirade from my Mother, and trying to preciously preserve nine and a half hours for sleep, whether I'm able to sleep that long or not. Mom is doing better today, but still can't handle a fork or spoon very well, so, we are into finger food. At least, she's trying to eat by herself.

Love's brother from Missouri has spent his utility money this month on gasoline for his car to be able to come and visit Love. I think he also fears that this may be the last time he will see Love alive, and to hell with the utility companies.

I have made out two different resumes and a covering letter for the future. I think I have finally quit procrastinating. I need to make another covering letter, and be sure that I have enough stamps, envelopes and postcards to mail to prospective employers, that have to be somewhere out there