Thread by @imaracingmom

Thread
The first time I learned how to see / feel grey instead of black and white.

A continence of helping people understand what it's like to live with my Autistic brain. When we understand each other, it's easier to accept each other. #Autism
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I'm going to talk about my Mom (again). Keep in mind that my experiences with my Mom I was just me - the me with no labels, because I didn't have a diagnosis at that time. I've talked in other threads about my Mom suffering from mental illness.
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As she aged, it got worse. She became extremes of angry and paranoid. Everyone and everything was out to get her. One by one, she pushed away her friends and even her family. She became very verbally abusive of me. After years of helping and supporting her, I walked away.
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We didn't speak to each other for 4 years. Until we found out she was terminally ill. Then, I stayed with her for over a month until she passed away. She needed my forgiveness, which I gave to give her peace. She saw no need to give me peace in return.
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Her mental illness didn't allow her to see that she might have done anything wrong, only that she had been wronged. My black and white brain has held on to this all these years, because in my mind, her treatment of me was "wrong".
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I took it very personal. Now that I work in the group home, I've learned that we shouldn't take it personal, because it's not. Mom couldn't help how she behaved, because her mental illness made her be that way. It takes away some of the sting of her never saying she was sorry.
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I didn't want to sit with Mom for a few awkward weeks and watch her die. But it was the right thing to do. My brother and his wife weren't going to do it. I promised Mom years before I'd never put her in a nursing home, so the only choice I had was to do the right thing.
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She was so sick, and so frail. She couldn't hardly breath, was too hot all the time, had very little strength, and no appetite. She had always been a proud, strong, independent person and she was horrified to need help with everything.
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She had the hospice people there as little as possible. The days dragged on. She deteriorated quickly. And then in the middle of the night, when it was just her and I, she passed away. I heard the breath leave her body and knew she was gone.
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Because she was non-responsive the day before, we knew the end was close, so my brother and his family were at Mom's. I went and woke my brother after she passed. He didn't handle it very well. And he didn't know what to do.
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I called hospice and they came to confirm she was gone. Her and I called the funeral home and they came and took Mom's body from the house. My brother and his family went back to bed. 11/

It was almost sunrise. I went and sat on the front steps and smoked a few cigarettes. I was so relieved she had finally died. No more struggling to breath, no more embarrassment over needing help, and the best part no more demons torturing her brain.
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The next day, I went to the funeral home and made arrangements. I made a copy of Mom's will for my brother. I went to the bank and opened an estate account for my brother and I. I took care of business. My brother & his family went back home to the cities.
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Mom's place had a few outbuildings. They and her home were packed with stuff. She had become a hoarder the last few years of her life. My son and I started dealing with the mountains of stuff.

What's missing from this story? What many of you would call grief.
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There were no tears of pain / loss. Just relief it was over for her. Just the need to do the right thing and take care of stuff.

The only tears was when we found some of the nasty letters my Mom wrote me over the 4 years we didn't speak.
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My friends became really worried about me, because they didn't see signs of grieving. Some started questioning me. Was I stuffing my feelings? Warned me it wasn't healthy to not allow myself to grieve. They thought it was weird to feel relief.
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Months later, on Mother's day, I found an ashtray in a box. It was one I had made in school many years ago and given my Mom for mother's day. Yes, we really did used to make ashtrays in school.
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All of a sudden the tears flowed. Grief had finally come knocking at my door. I was flooded with memories of when my Mom was my super hero, the amazing woman of my childhood. I cried for a couple of days. I was flooded with sorrow.
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That is the day I learned that life isn't just Black and White, that it contains grey. I could be relieved Mom didn't suffer anymore and I could be sad she was gone.

Bittersweet is the grey emotion of losing someone you love.

I love and miss my Mom.
~Skip
19/19

20/19
LOL what a funny typo! NOT CONTINENCE in the 1st tweet of this thread! LOL a continuance! OMG I'm rolling!

@threadreaderapp please unroll for my friend @hbowly that's how he likes his threads. Thanks