Pass the Turkey and the Meds!

Having an undiagnosed bipolar mother who unbeknownst to me had been self-medicating for years with drugs and alcohol was a terrifying roller coaster ride any time of year, but it got extra fun at those magical times of year that were supposed to be special.

Graduations, Christmases, birthday parties, when I was called to the school counselor's office, and of course Thanksgiving.

There are so many special memories before she was diagnosed and started to receive treatment; not that she actually accepted treatment, but it was a nice illusion for the family to believe that it was doing some good. Treatment, counseling and rehabilitation only works if the person being treated realizes that there is something wrong and admits it. Then they must accept the help being offered. Mom was never going to do any of those things. We all felt a whole lot better with her in therapy because someone was doing "something" and it also gave her an excuse for the nutty crap that she pulled on a day to day basis, but the one that comes to mind for Thanksgiving is comparatively tame. It does, however, let me know how much trauma us kids carry from her antics.

That year it was a mild season, not too much snow and not as cold as Iowa winters could get. It got scary some years and missing work because you were snowed in was a joke. Most bosses would either offer to come get you or tell you to shovel yourself out and get to work. But while snow was a pain in the rump, the ice was so much worse and a simple slip and fall could turn fatal, a friend of mine had died from a fall due to bleeding on the brain that went undiagnosed and so due to celebration over the mild weather and all of our general lack of motivation to cook an intensive meal we decided on going out to a buffet. It allowed us all to get whatever we wanted and wouldn't pile leftovers in Mom's fridge.

We didn't know that she wasn't actually eating due to all of the Meth she was using. She passed off the weight loss just working too much and we had all learned early not to question Mom.

We each arrived at the restaurant separately and even Aunt Judy came out to celebrate with us.

Mom's mood was already finicky that day, no explanation as to why, and we never knew what would set off a bout of temper. If we only got verbal abuse then she was having a good day, she was often violent & irrational. We would just have to keep our heads down and hope it blew over quickly, so we tried to be careful around her. But sometimes there's just no way to get ahead of it.

Judy had twin boys who were still young at the time and so I inquired as to their whereabouts that day. They were so cute and I had been hoping to hold them.

And with my inquiry, Mom's mood nosedived, Mom snapped at me "She just threw them in a ditch somewhere Dennis!" venom dripping from her tone.

"What the hell was that for?"

Judy looked uncomfortable with the exchange between mom and I; especially because of her comment and I didn’t understand why she would say something like that when all I did was ask about her babies.

Mom eventually simmered down, and the morning wore on. Everyone is making conversation and swapping stories in a lively fashion, and I made a knee jerk "Oh wow, Seriously" comment to one of them.

Which apparently set her off again, I would have taken it personally but it was merely my turn that day, because she snapped to all who could hear "I could just slap him" and stared at me, malicious intent hanging in the air around her and charging her blue eyes with anger towards me.

I was tired of this, I had had enough, for some reason that day Mom didn't want me there and honestly I had made other plans anyway and had only intended to stay a short while at the gathering.

Years of dealing with my mother’s moods had taught me to always be prepared for these kinds of things. So, I was.

I grew up dodging mom's often violent temper and also being the target of many other people's aggression and bullying.

I often wondered if the two were related, but I didn't want to give it too much thought.

I just wanted to move on and enjoy being grateful for what I had.

I smiled at everyone at the table, patted my younger brother Tom on the shoulder, who was there with his girlfriend at the time, and said ”Happy Thanksgiving bud" and promptly left.

Tom knew and he understood. He had grown up with the same mom that I had and to be fair no one else really questioned it, they all knew mom too.

Mom glowered as I left, I later found out that she thought I would just come back in after I calmed down.

I had hoped that by leaving I would be removing the target of my mother’s ire that day so she could be more stable and everyone could have a calmer Thanksgiving.

I headed home and started getting ready to go over and hang out with my friend Johnny. I would need to leave in an hour or so and then the phone calls from mom started. After a few voicemails, her final voicemail was both threatening and very sad "Don't you do this to me Dennis. Don't you dare! Don't do this to me!”

I could hear the threat, the anger & outrage, and the hurt all rolled into one indistinguishable tangle of toxic emotions.

So, I clicked off the answering machine, got my coat and left for Johnny's.

I left partially because I couldn't listen to Mom's messages anymore and partially because there was a probability that Mom could show up on my doorstep at any minute.

The unpleasantness that would ensue would have more than likely been physically violent. She had a bit of a history.

Thankfully, my apartment was in a rougher neighborhood, so she rarely visited. However, due to the number of phone calls I doubted it would deter her that day. I silently prayed for something divine to distract her.

He was still at his parents’ house for Thanksgiving, but his roommate Kathy was home with her little Rat Terrier Maggie. I spent the rest of the day sitting with Kathy talking about family, life in general and watching Golden Girls while waiting for Johnny to return.

When she died, she was buried with Maggie’s ashes and a pack of cigarettes. That woman was one of the sweetest women that I knew and she made this particular Thanksgiving much less anxiety producing. I will always remember her for that.

You could say that I "hid" out at Johnny's, but he also understood. We had been friends since we were kid's and he knew my mom too.

I spoke with my mother a few days later, I had stayed under her radar until her violent mood had passed, and she brought up my walking out of Thanksgiving dinner.

I ventured an inquiry as to why she had been in such a terrible mood and she just brushed past it like always. Mom was bipolar, so she wasn’t always terrible to deal with. She was just unpredictable.

Ironically, I ended up having to move in with mom a week after we spoke that day. Which kicked off genuinely interesting times including Christmas that year.

Like a relationship with any other person you care about; especially someone that you have known for 22 years. It’s complicated. This is the only woman I ever actually called mom and she did the best that she could do for her children considering her circumstances growing up.

This may have been one of the rougher moments of dealing with my mom, but she had many good moments too. However, those are stories for another time.