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Sunday, November 8, 2015

(Dead Mom Issues) - This time of year, apparently, does matter


The couples therapist mentioned last week that issues can "bubble up" in parenting a child when they become the same age as when the parent experienced their own "trauma" of sorts. This idea resonated with me, and I mentioned it briefly in my post about our first visit with the counselor. I also became aware that about this time last year I started to become interested and seeking answers to "what's wrong with me"; somewhere along the way I reached out to a few of my mom's oldest friends. I have a terrible, horrible habit of not checking my voicemail. Like, a serious avoidance/denial. I currently have 11 un-played messages, including one from a friend of my mom's, Gina, that she left November 13th, 2014. Nearly one whole year ago. So yeah, I'm that bad about it. I sent Gina an email this week, to confess that I never did (and still haven't) retrieved her voicemail. I again shared this not-so-secret idea about taking Francine on a trip back to the Bay Area, to meet and talk at length with my mom's friends, learn things that my 33 year old brain will understand differently than it did in my 20s, or even when my mom was still alive. I discovered that it is this time of year when I find myself the most interested in the travel idea. I casually mentioned the bizarre timing to my dad, the fact that this time last year I was reaching out to my Aunt Sue, Gina, Marilyn. And then this year, I've become aware that I feel inclined to do so yet again. 

Yesterday my dad emailed me that my mom had her cancer surgery 12/5/1985. And that she was diagnosed that November with 'ductal and lobular carcinoma.' I'm not so much a believer in psychics or horoscopes or coincidences or any nice fantasies of the sort, but I am oddly struck and awed by the fact that her first breast cancer diagnosis was EXACTLY 30 years ago. And that I was EXACTLY the Bean's age (well, ~3 weeks different). Granted, my mom was 8 years older when she had me than I was when I had Francie, but still, the timing is striking. Naturally, I texted my best girlfriends to share my discovery. And, naturally, they said supportive and validating things.

I try to imagine how the Bean might respond if our family were faced with a parental illness. I imagine she would be sweet, care-taking, and concerned. I imagine she would be pretty flexible and resilient, because she tends to be so in her day-to-day life. I imagine her pretend doctor play might ratchet up a few notches. By all accounts I was mostly "fine" and adaptable in the times of my mom's illness. But our memories are remarkably fallible, and each historian has their own 30-year-old lens. Or maybe I developed early defense mechanisms like compartmentalizing, denial, avoiding, faking, or anything else that might prove useful to a 3 year old faced with the threat of a death of her primary caregiver.

I never put a lot of stock in anniversaries, not the good ones, not the bad ones. But it seems my neurological pathways have different plans. They seem to remember significant timing and events even better than my conscious brain.

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