Driving for Love

Day Nine

In the hospital room, a lonely space

No mother’s touch, no familiar face

Released too soon, the pain still raw

I drove to her house, in the night’s dark maw

Seven times I stopped, to throw up in despair

Blurred vision, a girl in disrepair

Arriving at her door, seeking solace and care

A sandwich made, but no love to share

The question asked, "Can I come home?"

Her answer cold, a heart like stone

Leaving in that state, alone and frail

Abandoned by a parent, the wind in my sail

Over seven years, not a word was heard

No calls, no care, no loving word

Left to navigate the storm alone

In the silence, my heart turned to stone

But in the darkness, a light will shine

A strength within, a spirit divine

To heal the wounds, to find my way

In the journey forward, come what may

If you or anyone you know is struggling with self-harm, please reach out to the crisis text line. You can text #988, or you can follow this link. 

Crisis Text Line

The first thing I did when my son's father dropped me off at home, was run upstairs to grab my car keys, to drive to my mother's house. I was released without being fully checked out because I could hardly see. My vision was incredibly blurry, I was sick to my stomach, had bathroom issues, and could hardly walk. But I "needed" my mother. I had to stop at least seven times on this fifteen minute drive to throw up.

She was surprised to see me as if she was surprised the hospital let me out after just two days and no psych hold. (Yeah, I'm not. I literally manipulated the psych doctor to let me out, because I wanted to try again...) She invited me in and offered me a glass of water and a sandwich. I don't remember much of the conversation, but I do remember begging her to come home one last time. I remember telling her how much I needed her, bawling my eyes out, and telling her I had nowhere to go. I asked her why she didn't come to see me in the hospital and she responded that she was, "busy." Her response to me having nowhere to go was, "That's not my problem. You can't live here." She abruptly made me leave.

My mother has since shown zero concern for my life. She called all our friends and family and told them not to help me. That I was dangerous, off my meds, and I would only be using them. She told everyone that I wasn't worth saving. That this was all for attention, and they would just be "feeding my addiction." I even "used" my grandpa for all my rides to my appointments; medical and mental health. Using him, guys. For rides. Rides that he willingly gave to strangers, but when it came to me, I was using him. My mother didn't care about any diagnosis, any surgery, any struggles, anything. I was always either lying, manipulating, or whatever the hell else she said. I truly believe that she wanted me dead. I believe that she would claim her "Mentally ill" daughter just couldn't get her shit together. At this point in my life, I also firmly believe that this woman would end my life for me, just to keep her image and story up. Cover it up somehow as a suicide, or a murder. Maybe even frame my father for it. (Who is homeless and lives in the same city as me.) I do. Call me crazy if you want, but this woman has gone to some extreme lengths, and I'm just saying I wouldn't invite her into my home if I were alone. She scares me. To this day, I have no idea what she's capable of, but I do know, that I'm done trying to figure out her next move. I'm done with her, UNLESS, she wants to change her behaviors and apologize. A genuine apology though. I'll know the difference.

#CPTSD

#ToxicMother

#Narcissist