Mother Dearest


My mother always used to tell me ‘I don’t like you but I do love you’ and I could easily say the feeling is mutual. You can’t pick your family and this was made blatantly obvious as I was stuck growing with my welfare worker turned retail assistant turned car mechanic turned bus mechanic, now enrolled nurse and on again off again lesbian but never bi sexual mother. My mother is described as the crazy cat lady in her neighbourhood of Beverly Hills, NSW and this description couldn’t be any more accurate. My bipolar mother, named Rachel, has 5 kids with 4 different fathers, 7 cats, has lived in 4 out of the 8 states and territories and is self-described as ‘bored of things very easily’. On top of all this, she has had a stroke which has left her unable to smell or taste, a limp and unexplained stomach and headaches.

Hospital visits and suicide attempts weren’t a rare thing in my mother’s life. I don’t think she really wanted to die, but at the time, I believed that she did. The worst part about the situation I found us in was that you can never feel any more unimportant when your own parent wants to end their life with a total disregard to your own.  It all began in 2006, doctors describe it as a time bomb that was waiting to go off, I describe it as an event that was aided by the use of illicit drugs and stress.  On November 3rd 2006, my mum returned from a 1.5 week stay in a mental facility diagnosed with Manic Depression/Bi polar disorder. To be honest, all I genuinely believe she should have been diagnosed with was hypochondria but doctors know best.  For the entire 2 years I resided with her, her life consisted of trips to and from the hospital that sometimes lasted a few months. So as a 12 year old girl, I was stuck looking after my then 5 and 7 year old siblings. Nothing speeds up your maturity than being placed in a parental role when you yourself are still a child.

Between the years of 2001 and 2004, the crazy cat lady lived in a 2 bedroom apartment in the centre of Carlton, NSW. Each school holidays, I would take the 65 minute flight in order to see her. The Carlton house was lonely and cold. My younger brother who was 2 and I were often left alone as mother dearest would go out for sometimes hours on end. At night time, the head lights of cars passing by would shine through the window and draw patterns on the roof and in the day time, the sky light was dimmed out with cardboard boxes and the TV would be blaring the tunes from kid shows across the house. Meals consisted of canned spaghetti and Devon and tomato sauce sandwiches and the amount of times we left the house would be minimal. I believe that people learn the most from the times they are alone. It gives us time to reflect and review all that is going on in our lives. As a 17 year old, I find myself having deep thoughts about the size of the earth compared to the universe and all the different thinks that make society function. But as a 7 year old, I found myself having thoughts about when mum would come home and where she was going. Eventually, dad found out about the life I was living during the holidays and I wasn’t allowed up for a while.

Rachel has never been able to make up her mind or stick with something long enough. She describes herself as someone who easily gets bored and that gives a clear indication as to why she goes through a sensationalised amount of careers and partners. In my lifetime, I can recall her working in 4 different areas of careers. This doesn’t actually account for the amount of jobs she’s had in those areas. Her career decisions provide obvious reflections as to how quickly she can not only move on from something but also someone. My mother is known for going through partners as she is jobs. Whilst she has held some steady relationships, most are quick ones that she only really ever got into for her own benefit and profit.

The collaboration of the many stories and characteristic of one of the world’s most erratic parents only provide a short insight into her true self. I believe that everybody has some sort of issue with a family member and often, like I even believe I do, exaggerate the flaws and faults in them to feel better about our own reactions.  If we had the ability to choose our family, I can positively say I wouldn’t pick Rachel as a mother. People would argue that the experiences I have been through in regards to her are ones that have matured and defined me but they have also damaged me and created not so good characteristics as well. I certainly do not like my mum, but I do love her because I believe everyone loves their family to an extent deep down.