Mom and I did have a relationship, but it formed over her pill use. She would give me pills to get high. I was 18 and that was the first time I tried to commit suicide. I used her pills.She found me slumped down, in front of my bedroom. I didn’t make it to my room before the pills took over. I was taken to the hospital and had my stomach pumped. They asked me were I got the pills, I told them from the street, and they said ok and sent me home. They didn’t even ask me if I tried to commit suicide, I was so upset, because this just confirmed for me that my life was worthless! Why, did I attempt suicide, I ask myself that too. I think the first time It was because I realized, with a heart-wrenching pain, my mother never did or would love me. The fact that the Dr.s that saved my life dealt with me with such callous indifference, hurt me to the core. It just firmly set in my mind that my mother had very good reason not to love me. I was not valuable nor was I lovable.
The second time, we were at the same place, in Edmonton, just off of skid row. This time when they pumped my stomach the Dr. just said you can’t keep doing this. I thought to my self your right, one of these times I have to get it right, so I don’t bother you anymore. There was no social worker or therapist evaluation, they never asked me if I was suicidal, this time they didn’t even ask me any questions. I asked one though. I said”what is all this black stuff on my mouth.” Short answer “charcoal!” I was silently yelling for help and no one was listening, as is the case with so many children and young adults in extreme emotional and mental anguish.
It never ceases to amaze me how a person can be so busy that take a few minutes to let someone know they are valuable to the world, isn’t even an afterthought, it is not even a thought at all.After that I convinced my friend, the man I was staying with, to let my mom and her man move into a trailer he owned on his property. He agreed as long as I would stay at the house with him. I wanted to stay with my mom but I knew if I wanted to get her out of that house I would have to agree with the man to stay at the house with him. I asked me mom if she would like to move out there with her man to the country, she readily agreed and they moved into a fully furnished trailer. It wasn’t the best situation since the man was jealous of the love I had my mom. Because I spent so much time with her, doing pills, I learned that if I did as many as her I would OD, so I only did half as much…
Things went well, for a few months before, that summer, my mom’s new man ran a very big and expensive piece of farm equipment into the barbed wire fence and damaged the machine and pulled up a lot of the fence. The man was so mad, he wanted them both out! Mom was willing to kick the man out if she could stay, but he said no both of them had to go. Mom was so mad, she didn’t have to pay anything for rent or utilities, all that was necessary was to sacrifice her daughter to the man who owned the property. I tried so hard to convince my friend, and of course I am using that term loosely, to please let my mom stay. He said she can stay long enough to find a new place then she is out. I already made up my mind that I would be going with her when she left.I am glad the man my mom was intimate with was kicked out, he was abusive to me and my mom, and he looked at me in a predatory way, and I had no interest in being raped by yet another one of my mom’s men.
So we moved to Westlock, Alberta. Mom wasted no time in getting a new man, she took another woman’s man from her, and boy was that woman mad! I really don’t blame her, I mean honestly I wouldn’t want to be the woman who took another woman’s man, even if he was a person that hand a wandering eye.There was one more time when I OD’ed on mom’s pills that was more of a accident though. I say accidental, but honestly I knew the risks of mixing her pills with alcohol. If I looked deeper, I would see it really was just another cry for help, that went unheeded. I was drinking Vodka with mom, and doing pills with her. I took my drink outside so I could sit on the steps. A combination of the pills, alcohol, and hot sun, was just to much and I blacked out and fell down the concrete steps. They pumped my stomach again. I told them it was an accident, and they sent me home without questioning me…. again.
Sharing these painful memories, I have to stop and think what is it that makes one person, a child, less important than another. Was it just a busy day, each time, that I was unlucky enough to not warrant closer scrutiny? Was it that I just appeared to be disposable humanity? Or did I cause people pause, to reflect inward and they didn’t like what I represented in them. Or was it true, I was unlovable…some one targeted to be a victim, to be the one to carry others ugliness. To be used and abused, then ignored, while I carried their pain as well as my own so they could live in a reality of their own making, while making my reality a living hell on earth.
True to form, mom made a decision to leave the bad memories behind. We were again packing up our belongings, and heading to Slave Lake, Alberta. instead of getting help for us, she tried to run away from ourselves. Sadly, every time we turned around there we were.