It's taken me a while to get back to writing after enduring what has been one of the most awful enmeshment issues I have ever encountered. I feel bad that I didn't continue to write through it, but it was all I could do to cope with it let alone write about it. I can write when I am at a better place in my mind, so here I am. I am now operating with a therapist on board in my life to help me because this time... Well, as I talk about it you will begin to understand the terror surrounding this last event that scarred me to the core of my being.
Let me begin with an ugly story that for me, ended in beauty.
Mom was in hospice, dying from the cancer that had ravaged her body. I struggled to know when to go see her. I wanted to visit with her while her mind was still there, but my family's needs came first. That was not easy, as my sister was constantly saying "This is it, come now!" I followed God's leading and went when it was the right time, His time. I have learned to trust Him alone because my siblings are not trustworthy.
I flew in to Phoenix and was taken directly to the hospice where Mom was a patient. There was my oldest son, who had been there for few days taking the "night shift" with his Grandma to help her.
I kissed my Mom and took her hands as she was sleeping. She awoke and smiled big, welcoming me home and telling me how much she loved me. She was on drugs for pain as well as to help her sleep. That first night she awoke several times, each time welcoming me as if it was the first time she had seen me. It was wonderful for me. In my wonderment I took full advantage of her altered state to enjoy every time she welcomed me home, and it blessed the socks off of me!
That morning she sat straight up in bed and told the nurse that she was ready to sit on the couch. My son was astonished, as she had been in bed for days. She was determined to sit on the couch, and by golly they got her up and situated her on the sofa that was in her room. I sat on one side of her and my son on the other. We visited for at least an hour, perhaps longer, I lost track of time in my joy. We laughed, told stories, talked about friends, family, reminiscing about life and the many memories we shared. It was amazing, to say the least. My son, again, was in shock because she had not been coherent or strong enough to talk like that for a week!
My Mom had been waiting for me. There is no doubt in my mind, or others. It was so apparent that it began to cause distress for some of the siblings that had been caring for her. They must have been astonished that "their" Mom loved me despite distance and devotion (as they understood devotion to mean).
That evening my Mom had some sort of heart or pulmonary episode that caused her to go into a deep sleep state that she never came out of. She died a couple of days later. My son and I maintained our vigil with her, staying overnight for two more days until she peacefully passed away with me and him by her side.
Her death was beautifully peaceful. I had never known that there is beauty to be found in death. As a Christian, she went to be with our loving Savior. She was heaven-bound, and I rested, assured of her reunion that was taking place with loved ones whom had gone on before. I had never seen death like this, up close... It was a beautiful experience and although I knew in my head that peace is found as a believer, I experienced it from a new perspective, one that I will treasure in my heart forever.
That morning my siblings trickled in one at a time. They were uncomfortable in her death. They didn't want to be there. Perhaps I am weird, that's ok, but I was fine to be there with her. It was respectful. It was honorable. I had peace of mind and heart, and it showed. Hours had gone by when they packed up the belongings that were there to take. Mind you, my items were in a suitcase (I had never left the hospice since arriving). There were many items there that they had brought in, and I quietly let them gather them.
It was decided by my siblings that we would gather at my sisters house, where Dad was. There, we were to discuss the next steps. I spoke up. I said that would be fine, but that I was exhausted after several nights of non-sleeping, or semi-sleeping, and pain. I have fibromyalgia and take pain medication. Combine those with the constant vigil and I was near exhaustion. I said that I would soon need to go to my brother's house to rest so we could gather that evening for a planned "together time."
We gathered at my sisters kitchen table. I was scheduled on a flight to return home the following day. I offered that I could extend my time there if we could have a service in the next few days. It soon became apparent that none of them wanted to make that arrangement, it was not conducive to their schedules. I was fine with that. I had said my goodbyes to Mom. I had just spent the most extraordinary time with her than I had ever had. I was blessed to have been there when I was, and knew in my heart that my rememberences of her were solidified in Christ. My faith was showing.
They didn't like that.
They wanted to control me. They wanted me to either stay for the next week to ten days or come back. I said no. Uh Oh!!
Two hours passed. At that point, we were getting nowhere fast. I was not arguing. I was peaceful. They argued amongst each other. The most controlling, youngest brother was going to have his way. Ok. Fine by me. Well because it was fine with me, they flipped a little more... and a little more. Finally I quietly said that I needed to go to my other brother's house to rest, I was tired. I wanted to go. What?? They were in shock! Why would I want to leave when there was business to be done? I stood up to stretch and walked over to my niece in the kitchen where she was making lunch. She wouldn't even acknowlege me or my presence. At that point I started to realize that I was going to start to break, although I had managed to elude the tears until this point. I slowly started to give in to the exhaustion and a few tears welled up in my eyes. I told them I just wanted to go home.
Ugliness that is indescribable is what was to follow. I want to write it all down but I don't think I can right now. Maybe later. All I respectfully said, and I do mean respectfully, was that I just wanted to go home. I was attacked. I wish my brother had just gone to the car and peacefully taken me to his home, but that was not to be. I was kicked out of the house, and driven to the street by my 6'-foot tall 325 lb. niece as she cowered over me screaming in her loudest voice as I walked backward into the street. My sister stood on her porch continuously flipping me off, continuously yelling to me that I was never welcome in her home again and neither were my children.
I went to the local restaurant where flight changes were made and I returned home that evening to my dear family and husband who loves me.
From that point, I have never been spoken to again. My Dad and I are in touch by phone, but the rest is over.
There is, oh so much more to say, but perhaps it will trickle in during future posts.
Suffice to say, I went through such torment and hell that I cannot describe it here in words. My entire being was shaken to the core. Why? Why did this happen? Enmeshment. Enmeshment. Enmeshment.
And this is where I have been, of late. Dealing with my heart and mind in counseling, as well as healing. I am now feeling the strength to begin writing again. As I write, you will understand from this post a basic picture of my latest dealings with my enmeshed extended family. This has been difficult to write and be concise. Drama is difficult to interpret!
I think that their violent reaction against me was jealousy. Although I had been extremely careful not to step on toes that had been busy caring for my mother, I was viewed as swooping in and stealing some of their glory. I was not after what they had. My only glory is found in God and belongs to Him, and Him alone.
I need to continue to heal and find victory in Christ. He is my healer. Enmeshment is evil. Painful. In future posts I will try to illustrate its components through this recent experience.
Now, if I check that freezer would I be lucky enough to find some rocky road ice cream? Cause I'll tell you what, if it's not there now my 16 year old son will be making a grocery run for me as soon as he wakes up!!
Thanks to all of you who might read this through to its entirety. May you be richly blessed.
Carol
