“Please sign on the dotted line.”

“Step on a crack and
break your mothers back”
That tore me up as a kid.
I hated her, but if she were gone   what then?
Just don’t step on the fucking cracks.
I am walking home from an errand the day after I received the letter
from the secured unit of my mother’s nursing home.
As her guardian they need me to sign a letter releasing them of liability.
My mother is dying.
The letter is at the very bottom of my purse.
I read it and carefully put it back in the envelope and placed it at the bottom of my bag.
I will sign it and I will send it back.
And my mother will die.
She is dying. Try that on for size.
My mother is dying and my hate for her is all I can muster,
that and my fear of her.
And not stepping on the cracks:
all.
the.
fucking.
way.
home.
Peace,  Jen

~ by Step On a Crack on September 12, 2011.

3 Responses to ““Please sign on the dotted line.””

  1. Man, when i was little … all i could think about if mom was gone was, “how long could we eat fried hamburgers?” My dad really sucked at cooking.

    I never stepped on cracks … i could sense her (feel her) looming over me criticizing me for even THINKING about a crack-step. When i did step on a crack … when i was really, really mad … it spooked me for days.

    When i first started recovering from “mom”itis … when i would visit … i would let her taunts and provocations run over me … i’d take deep breaths … exhale. She pushed and pushed and pushed … and occasionally i would break down and cry, or ask her why she was digging at me. She would laugh! She would laugh … say you’re over-reacting … what are you talking about? Are you STILL seeing that shrink? One Christmas when Carlos and Jeff were visiting with Coco and Zoe … Coco absolutely loved me … she jumped up on the sofa all 130 pounds of her and laid on top of me! My mom said … “dogs just sense when people are sick/sad (needy)…” something derogatory … and it broke my heart again. You know how connected i am with dogs. She had to take everything … but she can’t take my last breath … or ANY more breaths. I’m done with that.

    I don’t buy it anymore. She knew what she was doing. She was trying to push me over the boat into the cold, drowning waters.

    Instead, i’ll March on Mom’s Heads waving my flag! FREE AT LAST 🙂

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  2. […] Sign on the Dotted Line… […]

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  3. This is a very accurate oosirvatebn in my experience.I am an alcoholic who, although swore it would never happen to me, found himself a practicing alcoholic by my mid-30s. The alcoholism I despised in my father somehow got programmed into me and I took to it like a fish to water.I also found out later in life that other family members were alcoholic. My grandfather in fact was an alcoholic who quit for reasons of health. Yet I suppose he had all of the behaviours and thought patterns of an alcoholic and somehow I picked up on those too without knowing it.I cant tell you how many people I meet in recovery who could tell you a similar story about alcoholism in their families.Hopefully, my recovery will initiate a new set of inheritable traits for future generations. I have observed a lot of this in my program of recovery too. Where a parent sobers up, and although their kids follow the same path of alcoholism, they too learn how to sober up and recover.Ciao. Chaz

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