What hit me at the end of my driveway

In the past I have mentioned that my mother was not the nurturer that some mothers are. For one thing, she suffered from post partum depression and tried to stick me, a tiny premie, into the pressure cooker one night, theoretically in her sleep. To me, that is a funny story, even though I was small enough to fit the pot.

I hear other adults say, "I want my mommy," and wonder what that feels like. As a child I learned pretty young not to go to my mom for comfort because I wasn't going to get any. I got more comfort being alone in my room when I was distressed. My parents told me they wanted me to be strong and not depend on anyone else. That was their theory, and that is how I was raised. I accept it and don't feel they meant anything negative by it. They felt they were doing right by me.

But I always felt there was something in my childhood that I didn't want to remember. I spent time with my therapist on that topic during marriage counseling, but never was able to shed any light on the thought. Until yesterday.

My walking partner is also a social worker, and she has spent hours walking with me and talking about my childhood. She helps me understand what things are not normal that I went through. We have agreed that my mom had personality traits that can lead to Munchausen's by Proxy, but I could not recall my mom actually causing me physical harm other than the usual spankings. (Munchausen's by Proxy means hurting someone else to get attention for themselves.) She sometimes used a belt, but only on my legs, that I can recall, and not often. I do remember her carrying the belt in her purse and showing it to me in public if my behavior wasn't perfect.

So I was shoveling snow earlier this week, getting towards the end of the driveway. I was thinking about how many of my friends have been coming down with colds and lung ailments in the last few weeks, and how I have not had any illnesses in years. I thought about how I was a very healthy child, too, rarely getting ill. I only really got sick when I had my tonsils out.

Oh. I rarely think about that time, because I was so sick and I don't remember much. I was about 6 or 7, and had to go to the hospital, my first time there, and have the tonsils out. I was a chubby little girl. I remember the nurses putting a star on my doll's bum because she tolerated the shot, then I got a star and a shot. When I went home, I was very weak.

I was home and missed school for a few months. I was weak, I was in bed all the time, and I was hungry. I didn't go to school. My mom got lots of extended family attention for having to care for such a sickly child. I was eventually dangerously thin. My mom had been told to take me back to see the doctor if I got pale. I assume that meant anemic. She did not take me back to the doctor.

My mom went to the doctor herself, and I had to go along. I don't know why she went so much. She was healthy with just a slight thyroid condition. I think someone usually watched me for her. The doctor took one look at me, white as a sheet, barely able to sit on a chair, and was concerned. I remember my dad took me back once to the doctor after that, and I was still very weak. I remember that because it was the only time in my life that my dad took me. I got better pretty fast after that. I spent time with my aunts, then I was back to school. The only thing that lingered was the thinness. I stayed dangerously thin for about 30 years. I was anorexic in an attempt to please my mom, but finally got over that on my own.

I am pretty sure my mom did do something to me to make me sick and get attention to herself. I know I was afraid of my mom. I can forgive my mom her mental illness. She had no control over that. I just hope the aunts were keeping an eye on me after that. I really don't know. I do feel a relief to finally understand this part of my life.