So today, the kids, my sister and I drove to the halfway point between here and my hometown to pick up my mother. My brother and sister-in-law drove her there. She's off from work unexpectedly for at least a week--plant management delayed telling them so that they couldn't look into unemployment insurance (that Bo Pilgrim; he really is the consummate Christian). From what I gather, the employees with younger children are worried--they live paycheck to paycheck and were, of course, planning to buy Christmas gifts with the checks they get over the next two weeks. This, combined with the fact that the local Wal-Marts no longer have lay-a-way, is proving quite devastating to a number of hopefully-penned Christmas lists.
But I digress. My sister noted on the way up there, "You know this means we have to spend three weeks instead of two with her." "I know," I said, "But she'll be cool out here."
My mom is going through some sort of anxiety/depression/paranoia/OCD thing that she refuses to take medicine for because she doesn't want people to think she is crazy. In the meantime, she gets stuck on one issue and goes on and on and on. Tonight my damned brother gave her fuel--he had a little accident in her car and her driver side mirror got knocked off. She mentioned it approximately 20 times in the less-than-three-hours it took us to get back here. And each time Sis dug in my ribs or punched my thigh or glared at me. Sorry, damn!
And now, it's become a religious issue as she doesn't "want to question God," but she's wondering "why things keep happening." Which kind of irked me because this is so trivial. I want to say, "Mama, there are a million things you could question God about, but a side mirror?" But I do know everything is magnified and worsened in her mind so I'm keeping quiet and listening. Even as she's lying down and repeating, wishfully, "I hope I can get some sleep. I hope this doesn't ruin my trip. I hope my mind eases." We're going to talk to her again about therapy and medication. One day, we hope it works.