This woman story is much like mine. I even have that book.
But this is the thing with me. I am talking about my Mama right here. Yes. There are many who are searching and find and loose again. Many who mourn additional losses. For years. Like she said.
See? I took the book a step further. Meaning I’m using it to help Mama change. It only takes one stone in a bucket to change the water from still to active. And my Mamas been scared forever.
Scared I’d do her like she did me. She’s pretty mad at herself. Frustrated for her lack of knowing and seeing the way. Moms always feel like they should know it all. And well? Her dance card was full of bullshit wanna bees that could fetch a step if they wanted. Meaning. She didn’t have a clue how.
She had to program to guide her about me but me. I had to install the rest of the program. No one else. I had to speak the impeccable words to break the spell on her that held her in ignoranceville. She didn’t like that place anyway? My Mama is fully capable of learning new things and people. She just needed my content to get a grasp. Of why I am so persistent.
And that why I just fucked with her mind. Tinkered with it. Stripped it. Bleached it. Burned it. Loosed it and healed it with science and knowledge she needed to cope and rise to her own fullest potential. My sister well meaning as they are could not take Mama where she needed to go. Which was a good old trip to the mind dump.
My Daddy Elmer taught me about all the good things at the dump that folks throw away. We used to always find a gem each trip. My Dad would take useful things and give them to folks who needed them. He passed them out like some junk Santa. But the. Again we had a store and he knew what folks needed. And took the time to scoop up useful things he saw and just drove by and dropped them off.
So funny that story. And Mama loves to find good buys too? A pot without a lid? No sweat. Buy pot for nothing and buy a new lid. And possess a name brand pot. But buying a pot without a lid and taking back your grown daughter are two different things. She needed proof I was for real. Her radar about me was kind of rusty. Kind of dusty. She needed to know I was inside her already.
So? Plan Psychobabble. My kids are versed in it. Warfare if the mind for extraction of vital information needed to hatch this plan. All systems go. Full onslaught of verbiage. Surgery. Mama needed my mental help. She’s was all flipped around in her head. I could see plain as day? But it would take work and pain staking precise words to push the right buttons and light this mother board back up. And on my last visit last year. She confirmed I got them all.
There is no getting over this woman. I repeat. None in my book. No spell that can be cast on me to make her fade away. Nope. In fact she burns like a Roman candle inside me. And that is my creed. My truth.
But there was no need for my Mama to stay in the darkness about her child’s side of this three sided coin. Did everyone just believe she some dumb ass who didn’t have a pot to piss in? Just a broader done bad? Some lazy lily liveried lunatic that gives her children away? Crumpled in some corner like a dirty shirt?
Well. Your not talking about my Mama? No. Every Mama can rise. They may be broke but they ain’t dead.
And I am unable to back off and just let sleeping dogs lie when they should be awake and barking to let Mama know her daughter home? And we got this?
this woman may back down? But she’s not me. I would never leave my Mama like that. And that is impeccable.