For years although the relationship between my Mom and I had our challenges and difficulties I never for once thought I would be sat down thinking how to cut her out of my life because there was a huge thing between us both called control and she was talking over everything.
It was a standing joke in the family that there's clean and then there's Carol pristine cleaning because we all knew she was a perfectionist with OCD behaviours, Annie and I knew that at home living with her but it was though living in that kind of environment that did our nut in and although I'd moved out and had my own house - I knew one thing. I shouldn't be dealing with this!Mom became worse. Not only would she leave Andy and I notes by making to do lists in our house of what she felt needed doing and if we didn't do anything on the list or cherry picked what we did - like the weeds at the side of the house needed doing, the sand box needed moving because she felt it looked like a stepping stone for burglars to enter through our back garden. Our lawn needed mowing, the guttering had to be lifted up and cleaned. Outside lights had to be replaced and fair enough because Mom paid attention to detail some things I would have missed and gone past my attention. There was also be a list for inside the house. Our oven needed a scrubbing and the underneath of the microwave needed doing.
Mom often removed our egg basket from the top of the microwave telling me that it was a hazard.
"Where am I supposed to put my eggs?"
"In the fridge!"
"In a wikka basket?""Oh you look for problems you do. No, you take it out and leave them in the egg boxes they come on in."
"I want to use my wikka basket."
"Not on top of the microwave!"
"I did it at the flat.""If you want to eat radio active eggs that's up to you!"
"Fine."
"It's bad for you. Do you don't understand how bad it is? The fumes and the electricity from the microwave will go straight to the eggs and you'll be having problems later on. Move the basket."
"It doesn't go anywhere else."
"Oh Carol," Annie would cry out at the sheer frustration at her droning voice. "Let her do what she wants."
Great, I had some support.
"And if they make her bad. She gets bad."
I looked at her deciding she wasn't really on my side. The same happened another time Mom was banging on about twelve times to set my alarm so she could take me to some appointment. It didn't matter how many times I said yes she kept banging on.
"Carol!"
Annie cried looking up from a bowl of hot soup in the living room pausing her film at having had enough of her voice.
"She'll set her alarm!"
"It needs to be for eight-fifteen! Because of the traffic on the way there! The traffic is going to be horrendous! She needs to be ready!"
"And she'll be ready! Kim will set her alarm..."
Yeah, I thought thanks for being on my side for a change.
"And if she misses her appointment she misses it, it's her problem."
Well, I stare at Annie. She wasn't really on my side but technically that was the kind of approach people had to be with me to deliver a strong point to form my desire to want to do things for myself. I always remember going to the yearly tradition of going to a Jehovah's convention in Birmingham with these two ladies.
"We will come to collect you," Ellen said during our session. "If you're not ready we will go without you."
"Alright," I nodded.
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Fallen From Grace
Short StoryA story based on real experiences and events through the relationships and hardships of life whilst diagnosed from Mosaic Down Syndrome.