Well, Happy Fucking Birthday
I’ve not seen my violent, alcoholic, schizophrenic, bible-thumping mother since a brief visit in December 1992. That was the first time I’d seen her since January 1988, and that was for less than 15 minutes.
I received a few phone calls from her in 1997. I was Active Duty military. She wanted me to make her my dependent so the government would pay her medical bills. She was morbidly obese, and needed her foot operated on.
I looked into the matter and discovered I could either give her money I didn’t have or defraud the government. To be my dependant legally she’d have to receive over half her income from me. She was receiving retirement checks after her years at LL Bean. I couldn’t afford to match that on sailor’s pay.
When I pointed this out to her she suggested I defraud the government. I was not insubordinate then.
She was living in California with her mother, her brother, and his family at the time. I was stationed in Boston. I suggested receiving free medical care at a Californian medical university.
I next heard from Mother in 2004, following the death of my father (her former husband). I found an e-mail from her in my inbox, and opened it to find spam. I was simply included in a mass e-mailing of some inconsequential biblical subject. I’d given my e-mail address to my brother in Las Vegas after our father’s funeral. He’d forwarded her my address apparently.
I hear from my brother when he needs money. I heard from him just before last Christmas. He needed $100. He was unemployed in Las Vegas. He asked for my address so he could refund the money (he still hasn’t). Mother mailed me biblical tracts for Christmas. He’d given her my address. She’s living with him now in Henderson, Nevada. He’s morbidly obese too, well over 400 pounds. I think he’s suffering from diabetes.
Mother mailed the following to me for my birthday this year. It’s the first actual letter I think I’ve ever received from her:You have not spoken to me for 10 years now. Why? Because I asked for help. I was sick, hospitalized, & homeless. I have lived my life helping family & others & believe that is what God has called me to do - this includes the "Dozers" many times the Dozers. I have no regrets. I would do it all again. It says more about you that it does me. Is this really who you want to be?
I will never stop loving you.
your mom.
Perhaps my response should read:You’re a violent, alcoholic, schizophrenic failure of a mother. You asked me to defraud the government. I told you a legal way to face the consequences of your poor decisions. When you failed to manipulate me you went back to ignoring me. You sent me spam when Dad died and bible tracts last Christmas as the two exceptions. I wasn’t about to dignify either inappropriate gesture with a response.
I’m unsurprised you’ve no regrets. I’m sure you’d do it all again. That’s why I want nothing to do with you. I am too strong for you to beat, and too wise for you to manipulate.
Your god is a myth. Fuck your god. Your need for an imaginary friend is sick. You're too broken to love.