A Mother Of A Day

Sunday May 8th, 2011 - Chicago, IL

   I didn’t expect it, but Mother’s Day really hit me hard this year. I wasn’t thinking about it at all, but I heard a commercial about it on the radio and it tippy toed up and took a hard bite out of my innermost feelings. It drained my energy and took me out of the entire day.

   The situation with each of my parents is rotten for different reasons, but at least I did do the right thing with my father and make my very best attempt to fix it. It didn’t work, and now he’s dead, but I know in my heart I did all I could do from my end. That wound isn’t hurting anymore, because there was some closure. After a lot of years, I think I’m over it.

   My mother is a different story. I never knew her. My father was a mean spirited bastard who liked to bully anyone he could including dogs, children and the mentally ill. He was Darth Father, and I highly doubt if anyone misses him. I sure don’t. He was an evil ogre.

   The few times I’ve met my mother she didn’t seem dark, but I wasn’t overwhelmed by either her warmth or her intellect. I wasn’t even whelmed. She seemed to be just another woman, and had I not known she was my mother I wouldn’t have spoken to her at all.

   She told me she used to do drugs and anything it took to get those drugs. I wasn’t very sympathetic to her plight as a kid, and I really am not now. Sorry, but none of that was my fault. She brought three kids into a world she wasn’t able to handle herself. Why do that?

   I don’t ever remember her hugging or kissing me or telling me she loved me or any kind of mother/child affection. I remember seeing her for the first time about ten years old and how awkward it felt. I almost wish I’d never met her at all. We never had a relationship.

   What’s really a shame is that apparently she’s still alive. I heard from my uncle last fall when I did my ‘Schlitz Happened!’ show at the Schauer Center in Hartford, WI. He came out with his wife and told me that indeed she was still alive but still lost in the cult of the Jehovah’s Witnesses, as she’s been for years. Apparently, my siblings stay away as well.

   My uncle Walter is a very good guy, and makes an honest living fixing cars. He told me that side of the family is just as wacked out as the side I know, and I’m not missing out on a damn thing by not being in touch with them. Even though I wasn’t surprised, it was sad.

   All these thoughts stomped on my self esteem all day, and it felt like someone knocked a port-o-potty over in my head and all that raw sewage polluted my thoughts. It ruined my day and I had no idea how to make it stop. I really don’t want to see her ever again. That’s not the answer, the damage is done. We all make mistakes, but she hasn’t tried to fix hers.

   This was one day when even being on stage didn’t make me feel better. I had a show at Zanies tonight, and the people were very good and enjoyed the show. They even bought a few CDs, and that didn’t cheer me up. I was really hurting, and whatever lesson there is in all of this isn’t making itself known right now. I thought I was over this, but I guess not.

Posted via email from Dobie Maxwell's "Dented Can" Diary