Sadly, there are few things that I feel I have a real grasp of knowledge of, but one of those few things is my mom. Ya, she's at it again. I wonder though, did it ever really get under control the last time? I don't think that it did...try as I might, it just got to a point where there was nothing more I could do for her.
I talked with her last night. She was very upset (literally freaking out) because I haven't opened her package yet. (See above) Now, I gave her only one of the reasons for my not opening it and that was that I wanted to take a picture of the package first before destroying it. The other, which I did not share with her, was that it smells of cigarette smoke. So, as with nearly all of my mother's packages I have ever received, I put them on the porch and let them air out for a fews days first. The smell doesn't dissipate entirely, but enough that we can go through the contents.
She was very insistent that the reason for my delay in opening said package was because I thought she put a bomb in it. When I told her that was definitely not the reason, she became irriate with me. She said that she assumed that since people were putting "bombs" in her apartment trying to take her out, that I would assume that someone tampered with my package and put one in mine as well. Oh dear....here we go again.
She then proceeded to tell me that she has called the police several times to report this as well as report that her things have gone missing. Now she is frustrated with the justice system because they are no longer taking her calls...meaning they send her to a "special" voicemail to take down her complaint there. I feel so sorry for the law enforcement there because it won't be long before she starts saying that she's hurt - instead of that her things are missing - just so they have to come out to check on her. Good grief.
She then proceeded to talk of the past...like it was still happening to her as we spoke. This is the part that gets really frustrating to me. No matter how many times I hear of these same stories, they are not the same, but always slightly more embellished. Like when she talked of my brother's suicide last night...it wasn't how it actually happened this time, instead it was my other brother and his friend who ganged up on Walter and took his life. I had to cut her off then. I tried to explain to her that she needed to think about what she was saying and that wasn't the way it happened and she was only going to scare herself if she thought that. She told me that I wasn't there, so I didn't really know. I'll steal a line here, "Oh, for the love of all that was holy, would the catastrophes never end?"
Since the last time I tried to help her - which I might add was the best situation possible for her - it was only to try to sabotage her, so she hasn't given me any information about her doctors or mental health professional since she moved. Now, I know the best place for her is an insituition, but apparently I'm the only one to think that...at least right now I am. (Although I'm sure in a few days time the Spokane police department will back me up here.)
Now, I just have to patiently wait for it to hit me...again. I so totally don't need this right now or ever, but I fear it will be inevitable. Only this time, I hope it's a little easier and we'll get through it quicker on account that I've gone through it so many times.
One thing that occurred to me, just right now actually, was that maybe Dr. B is right. I should write a book detailing all the craziness I've either witnessed or experienced. He thinks I'd strike it rich because people like to read funny crazy stuff to make them feel better. So glad he finds my life amusing.
Poor Jon. This is not something you're supposed to get used to, but I think he is getting somewhat used to it by now because last night when I told him about my conversation he just shook it off and said something along the lines of, "Oh well". Cracks me up.
Oh well. (The picture of the woman on the package, I'm told by the artist, is a self portrait...as for the other two pictures with no description, your guess is as good as mine.)