what is your biggest fear?
a diary of my mother's stubborn resistance to accept help
27 February 2025
About two years ago, on a hazy/foggy afternoon, my mother and Joel and I were on her deck. Joel pointed out rotted boards anyone might crash through and insisted upon calling the handyman.
My mother drank wine, pinot grigio, which she always pronounces with a performative flourish, a continental lilt that a daughter would notice and disdain. Joel and I, judgy non-daydrinkers, sipped sparkling water. I don’t know exactly what inspired me, perhaps the opportunity to say something real, to have my feelings heard through a backdoor. Some feeling/fear my mother might not want to hear from me but posed as a group question, I could say it. And so I asked the general assembly, “What is your biggest fear?”
Without hesitation, my mother, in her day pajamas, her dental bridge on the table by her bedside, her pill minder thoroughly confused…full and empty on all the wrong days, said, “That you and Joel will abandon me.”
What do you do when someone whole heartedly pre-criticizes you for something you haven’t yet done. Something that you believe you would never do, though in a dark corner of your body, the corner where the mouse has nibbled the baseboard, the truth whispers, “yes.”
What do you do?
You leap to make the person feel better. You assuage your mother’s fear about her worst possible thing, being alone and unable to care for herself.
“We will help you find a care-er.”
“We have long term care insurance for you.”
“Of course we would never leave.”
“We will be here for you.”
“We want you to be safe.”
This is what I gushed.
Joel, recognizing manipulation, said nothing. Just kept walking around the deck, looking for rotten boards.
And my mother smiled as if she held a tiny mouse in her mouth. From me she was getting exactly what she wanted… coddling, attention, concern. So much time went by there was nothing left. We were depleted. Nobody asked Joel’s fear, or my fear. Which is, of course, that my mother will eat me alive.
So hard to read these posts - your mom is indeed eating you alive. I have a family member who is dealing with a similar issue. Thank heaven I have my wits and will take any and all help I can get from my daughters - truly, I would like an admin asst to deal with the care of all my body parts. Becoming OLD takes a village. Sending hugs your way. mmh