My mother had used the phrase “my mother” or “my mom” or sometimes where I would inadvertently chime in from the dining room she would say “I’m talking to my mother”. I had also unintentionally would trigger her by saying the way she says “my” sounded “possessive”… well… I have something to say about this…
I actually texted to our social worker from the hospice care shortly after Christmas trying to reach out to her to meet with the Bereavement coordinator to get the ball rolling between me and them. They provide support for one year following the death, and as i previously stated, my grandmother had less than 5 days of care on their watch.
So now we’re down to less than 8 months. Shortly after the text message, and before New Years, we received a holiday card from them, specifically with a handwritten login credentials to their portal on the very bottom. If I remember correctly, there was also a letter sent with them offering us to log in. Sadly, I’ll probably have to ask my mother for it if she hadn’t already hoarded it and piled it into a pile of papers of which I am not allowed to see.
According to my mother, she doesn’t ask help for much and she’l tough it out and look like a narcissist with someone looking empty but projecting phony substance.
I don’t want to say much about my family at this point, but I do suspect my grandmother’s pride was abit cocky. DIY is not always the best approach.
This week, my task is to find that login information. If I have to ask my mother, so be it! I have given my mother so many miles of her maladaptive behavior and yeah she lost her mother, well I lost my grammie too! But it doesn’t excuse the matters of borderline-dysregulatia in the most toxic and emotional sense.
I am sorry that my grandmother died, but after yet another subdue Christmas, and instead of celebrating what my grandmother wanted, the old woman preferred to be sad. Both of us have gotten really sick (wether it’s COVID or not it’s unclear) so that level of static uncertainty, of a borderline personality life is more complex than the people I’m dealing with.
To prevent holiday anxiety, my mother has taken the Twelve Days Of Christmas, (meaning when you look at the letter of the word, of, means following December 25th.) Great idea, but can we at least have one year of a Christmas, and even make it somewhat positive of what my grandmother would want? Normalcy is the part to recovery. Granted, I am told repeatedly people grieve in their own ways, and yes, my mother will probably be randomly triggered for the most random reasons, because she lived her live randomly to date. And if I get reflection of her on that, that would be a nice step forward in each other’s lives!