Mother's Day 2013- the day when my greatest joy and my greatest agony will collide

Mother’s Day has always been a tough day for me because momma was absent mentally and emotionally for so much of my life especially during my teens. Then she died and later we lost Kathey, who was really more like a mother to me than a sister. It doesn’t help that Mother’s Day falls in May when they both died.  But today as I am struggling with this upcoming day I am trying to remain thankful for where I am mentally, spiritually, and physically. Today I am thankful that I am still sober, clean ( it will be 11 years July 15 ) , and joyful about life even though this will be my first Mother’s Day without Alexis.

For some reason my thoughts took me back to Mother’s Day 2002. I had relapsed and was a mess. By the time Mother’s Day came around I had crashed because I had been up so long. My kids and I were living with my father.  The game room upstairs had become my bedroom, it was more private and there was a balcony so I could open the French doors to let the air circulate. It was easier to get high up there away from it all. I thought I was fooling them all. But that Mother’s Day I was asleep and couldn’t wake up for anything.  The kids had worked hard to make my Mother’s Day special.  Hailey was in 7^th grade, Alexis in 4^th, and Sammy in 3^rd. They were so excited about what they had prepared for me but I wouldn’t get up, I just couldn’t because the days of nonstop drug use had taken a toll on me.  Finally Hailey, who was usually calm and laid back, came upstairs and yelled at me telling me I was breaking Alexis and Sammy’s heart. She was so angry. I was shocked by this reaction from my sweet Hailey. But I deserved it.  Her rebuke jolted me and I finally dragged myself downstairs to celebrate.  Alexis and Sammy looked at me expectantly and I know I let them down. I could barely hold my eyes open.  This behavior probably confirmed any suspicion that I was using but the addiction again had such a grip on me that it came first, it came before my kids who I loved with all my heart but sadly I loved the drug more. I didn’t want to think about it and ran back upstairs to fall asleep waiting until I could get some more Meth.  When I have ministered in prison I have been brutally honest with the inmates.  They will go on and on about missing their kids and how much they love them. I tell them that is a beautiful sentiment but they need to back it up with their actions when they get out because most often their drug came before their kids. The sooner they are honest about that the better they can deal with it and change the reality of it all.. Their children deserve their best.. Their children deserve the truth even though the truth hurts. When we walk in the truth we walk in the light and God can bring forth healing. He can’t heal what we won’t reveal.  Most often they have not been offended as the tears began to flow they agreed

Not long after that Alexis and Sammy started spending more time with their grandparents in Wylie and I slipped further away. It is a heartbreaking memory to think of how I hurt them, how my actions that I so fervently justified with statements like “I am only hurting myself” “My drug use doesn’t affect anyone else”  had a devastating effect on them . Our actions affect so many, there is a domino effect. It is hard to see clearly in the eye of the storm though.

I am thankful to say that all the Mother’s Days since I paroled from prison in 2003 were special, sober, and uneventful although I missed momma and Kathey ,  I enjoyed my children.   Staying clean transformed my role as a mother and finding God transformed my life in every area. My kids watched this and I personally believe because of my transformation the  trajectory of their lives changed forever. 

One of the most special Mother’s Day came in May of 2009 when we dedicated Riley at church.

The Day Riley was dedicated , Mother's Day 2009

 And last Mother’s Day I will never forget. I am so thankful to have captured these moments for eternity.

Mother's Day 2012- The last one with all of my children

So this weekend I will try my best to focus on all the good that has come from all the bad. Honestly it will be hard because it is my first Mother’s Day since Alexis died but we tend to see what we are looking for so I choose to look for the beauty beyond the pain.

Spring forward to the spring of 2002

It was a little bittersweet when I graduated from NTTC in February of 2002.   I had been there six months and felt comfortable. I was a leader in the community and had made a lot of friends.  My self-esteem had been built up , I had lost a lot of weight ( which was very rare, most gain weight in rehab but somehow  I was a fat Meth addict: )  , and I felt ready to take on the world. The probation officers at the center thought of me as their shining star, they believed I was going to make it and I was determined not to let them down.  BUT still the real world seemed a little scary and I had doubts I could make it. My kids would be moving into my father’s house with me and we would be starting over. For six months I had only focused on me and my recovery with really no other responsibilities but that was about to change.

My return to NTTC after 10 years to share my testimony with the resideints

At the front door after speaking. So grateful that God has given me the opportunities to stand in vicotry in the places where I felt such defeat. He is Good !!At the beginning things were wonderful.  Although rehab wasn’t jail we did not have any freedom. It was a court ordered rehab and if we left the facility or disobeyed the rules a warrant would be issued for our arrest. While there I probably witnessed 10 -15 arrested for various infractions, their county would come pick them up in shackles and chains. For most the next leg of their journey was prison.  So to be able to do as I pleased was so very liberating in every sense of the word.  Hailey and Alexis moved right in with me and Sammy came a few weeks later. Finally I had my kids back , Warner was still incarcerated. The kids started school in Rockwall and we were adjusting to our new life our new normal.

Living with my father was not a healthy choice and honestly it turned out to be a choice that ultimately changed the trajectory of my life.   At the time I didn’t think I had a choice but I did, I could have gone to a half-way house. Basically my choice was based on having the best materially. My dad had a beautiful home and the kids could go to the yacht club and swim but, as I had learned as a child but seemed to forget, material things do not make you happy.

My dad was very critical of me and when he was drunk, he was verbally abusive. He would have a glass full of vodka in his hand, look at me with disgust and throw it in my face.  He would say, “I wish you would have died instead of Kathey because she would have never embarrassed and humiliated me the way that you have.”  At the time, I believed I deserved that treatment with all my heart. It just compounded the shame and condemnation that I already felt about myself. My self-esteem slowly began to plunge.

Trying to find work after rehab was difficult also and part of that problem was pride, with thoughts like “I have a college education, I am not going to work there,” when faced with job prospects in food service or retail.

At the time, I was pretty clueless about how this felony was going to affect my life. I called about a potential job with Terrell ISD; the school was desperate for a substitute teacher for one very disruptive student. They told me to show up the next day and we could “take care of paper work later.” Despite my efforts to tell them about the felony, they were desperate to fill the position and assured me that it could be discussed at a later time.  The optimistic person that I am took that as a sign from God that I was going to start my new position and be so wonderful at it, they would overlook my 2nd degree felony conviction of manufacturing meth! (What alternate universe was I living in???) 

After about three or four weeks of working I finally got to see an assistant superintendent (I was really trying to be honest and do the right thing). I will never forget sitting across his desk and describing what had happened. He looked me in the eye and said he didn’t think it would be a problem. I returned to the classroom with my one student thinking all was going to be fine. Later that afternoon, the principal and other administrators came to the door and escorted me to principal’s office. They let me know that I needed to leave the premises and they would not need my services anymore. This was one of the most humiliating experiences of my life, again shame and self-loathing washed all over me. Later I learned I would probably not teach again and that I would lose my teaching certificate because of the choices I had made. That news was heartbreaking because I had worked so hard to get my degree and I loved teaching. Hopelessness set in and I relapsed on meth. I had been clean for over a year but at the end of April 2002 I was using again.

The downward spiral happened fast. Within a week I was back to using every day and using more than I had before. The look on my children’s faces as I walked out of the bathroom, after being locked in there for what seemed like hours, breaks my heart. My son said, “Mom , it makes us think you are using again when you stay gone so long and lock yourself in the bathroom.” I lied to them, promised that I wasn’t using, but you could read the disbelief all over their sweet broken faces. By the end of May I was a total mess taking unbelievable risks with my life. One of the worst happening right before Memorial Day 2002 of course. Here is what I journaled :

It was Sunday May 26, 2002, the day before Memorial Day. I was back to using daily . I had gone to Kilgore to see a friend from rehab who I had relapsed with ( he is now serving 12 years because he couldn't stay clean, just a bunch of small possession charges, I just wrote him a letter trying to encourage him) Anyway I left to drive back to Rockwall . I needed gas but put it off and ran out in Lindale off of I 20 and I saw no station in sight so I began to walk ( I have been clean almost 10 years and in that time I haven't run out of gas once , literally or figuratively :)) while on drugs I ran out all the time literally and figuratively . I even fell asleep at my desk in class and my students woke me up and asked if it was nap time!!!)))) a man in an 18 wheeler pulled over . Excited about help I approached the truck but when he opened the door my heart skipped a beat and I was scared . He was rough looking and said get in, even in my altered state my gut told me I was in trouble. Looking around skittishly I didn't know what to do. Impatiently he said get in again and at that moment a DPS officer pulled up and asked if there was a problem. Not sure what to do because I had drugs on me but I was very scared of that man so I told the trooper I ran out of gas and went with him. I was so nervous after getting gas he asked if he could search my car because I was acting suspicious. I predicted that so I had the drugs and was able to dispose of them but I didn't get rid of my pipe and some basically empty baggies so I got a paraphernalia ticket. I left shaking but went and got more drugs . The next week June 5 I got the new possession charge that revoked my probation. God saved me that day and tried to warn me with that ticket to get back on the right path but I chose the path of self destruction . Not sure what would have happened if I got in that truck but the red flags were flying frantically and I chose to go with an officer while on probation for manufacturing meth, high, and with drugs on me so I was scared . That decision may have very well saved my life. God certainly works in mysterious ways and I'm thankful he intervened that day . It was all part of His plan. I forgot that story. Another part of my journey visiting places where I was in bondage and defeat now standing in the victory and freedom that only he provides:))  

The Summer of '79

The scene must have been very upsetting to the lady working there because she came running into the room where the casket was and tried to stop me. Concerned for me she started hugging me, telling me it was going to be okay. She started crying as well because she was not sure how to help me.

Embarrassed, I quickly regained my composure and apologized for my behavior  then became stoic again. Deep down inside I knew it was never going to be okay because I honestly believed I had killed my Mom. I was never going to have a chance to apologize or take back those horrible words I said to her. I hated myself as I walked to my car to return home.

The funeral was held at the  chapel  in the funeral home on Military Parkway .  I really don’t remember much about it. What I do remember is as the service ended and I stood up to walk down the aisle I was shocked at how many kids from my high school were there. My friends had come to support me even some from junior high school attended. My heart was deeply touched by this outpouring of support but the accusing thoughts would not end and I thought if they knew what I said to my mom they wouldn’t be here.  My thoughts were “They don’t know how bad I really am”. The mask I had always worn went back on but it was different now, there was so much more to hide and I felt so very tired. 

After the funeral a few of  my friends and I went on a graduation trip to Hawaii. Peri and I had planned this trip for over a year and were so excited about it. Cheri, Patty , and a girl named Laura joined us . We left not long after burying momma. It was good to get away from it all and I was an expert and pushing my emotions down so I had fun on the surface at least. We spent our days on the beach soaking in the sun, I even took up surfing: ))  Peri laughed  as I lugged around my huge surf board and gave me the nickname Gidget because we had just watch  the move Gidget and Gidget goes Hawaiian before we left for Hawaii . We spent our nights dancing the night away at the various discos to “We Are Family”, “Cocaine”, “YMCA” “Knock on Wood” and all the popular songs at the time. Then we would catch a pedi cab and go get some tacos at Jack in the Box ( thank God for tacos from Jack in Box even in Hawaii)  :)) It was a much needed break from my tragic reality. We returned home for a week and then Peri, my dad, and I  went to Arkansas for a week to  Lake Ouachita. A yearly  trip we always took since before David died but this year it was different, it was just sad and depressing.  That would be the last vacation we ever took. I dreaded returning home , fearing my new normal. The first thing I learned after arriving back in Dallas was my boyfriend had a new girlfriend. I was devastated and heart broken. The rejection I felt was overwhelming.

After the funeral, things returned to “normal.”  Sadly my dad went back to the lake house and I stayed in the family house on Van Pelt. I was by myself and alone again.  I had felt alone before because momma was always passed out but now I was truly by myself and my job as a caretaker was over. There was no purpose to my life now. There was nothing to do in that big empty house

This proved to be one of the darkest times in my life. I had no skills to cope with day to day life or the tools to even begin the grieving process. I just shut the door to the room where she died and never went in there.

Fear paralyzed me  all the time and I couldn’t escape the darkness. Everything reminded me of death.. I also closed the doors to the room where my brother David had died. This simple act made me feel I could shut out all the darkness so that it could not get me. It would be trapped and not consume me.

That summer was the start of the most disturbing recurring nightmares. This evil dream came every night without fail. In the nightmare I would be in the house and my mother and brother would appear in clown makeup. They were riding tricycles, chasing me, and taunting me.  I would run from them down an endless hallway looking back frantically fearing they were gaining ground. They wore maniacal smiles as they pedaled the tricycles grabbing at me but never catching me.    They would be screaming what a horrible excuse of a person I was and why hadn’t I been a better daughter to my mother? They would blame me for killing her.  They said I was a murderer.

Then suddenly I would jerk awake in a cold sweat, crying uncontrollably. Getting up, still in a somewhat fog,  I would run across the hall to my parents room  hoping to find someone to comfort me but then it would all come back and  I would remember I was  all alone in that house where they both died such tragic deaths. And then I would cry myself back to sleep hoping the evil clowns wouldn’t visit  me again. I felt so isolated from the world and everyone in it.  It was such a horrific experience and time for me. I’m troubled even now as I write about it.

Memorial Day '79- A Day to Remember

She didn’t respond. Her back was to me so I walked closer and said, “Momma” again, but still no response.

Here is my childhood room and the furniture that remained in it. Momma slept on that bed after the fire. This is where I found her on that fateful Memorial Day. The photo is of me and my granddaddy from years before. I had grown up but the room remained unchanged when I moved into my sister's room as a very young teen.

I bent over to shake her awake and when I touched her, her skin was so cold and clammy. As I turned her over she felt rigid, her face was disturbingly distorted, and her hands were so swollen to the point that I couldn’t see her rings. I ran out of the room as fast as I could. Deep down I knew she was dead. Admitting it was something I didn’t want to face. I was alone in the house with her and horrified. I remembered what I had said the night before: “Get the f___ out of my room! I hate you and I wish you were dead.”  That sentence replayed in my mind; over and over.  I hated myself for saying those words to her and I honestly thought I had killed her.

I went into the kitchen and called my dad at the lake. I told him something was wrong and I couldn’t wake momma up. He argued with me saying she was just passed out and began to get irritated as I went on and on,  telling me I could handle it. At that point, I began to beg him to come home telling him that something was really wrong with momma. He finally agreed to come home and we hung up. I called Cheri to tell her something was wrong and I wasn’t sure what it was but that I couldn’t go tanning. I went and sat on the floor in the den and turned on the TV. “All My Children” the soap opera was on. I sat on our blue shag rug in our sunken den staring at the television trying not to think about anything. Maybe if I wiped it from my mind it would go away as if it was not happening. Cedar Creek Lake, where our lake house was, was about an hour away from our family home. I just had to make it for an hour then I wouldn't be alone anymore.  My father would be with me then. Not knowing what to do, I just rocked back and forth gently and waited for my dad to arrive.

Oddly the next thing I can remember is that a fire truck, ambulance, and possibly a coroner arrived at my house. I don't even recall daddy coming in but he must have and he must have confirmed that momma was dead. I have no recollection of any of that though.  I am not sure exactly who came first or in what order but it certainly caused a commotion in the neighborhood. As had happened a few weeks earlier when she started the fire, the neighbors were outside on their front lawns concerned and curious about what was happening. Luckily a friend gathered me up and we went to Pizza-Getti to get something to eat. The familiar restaurant was a comforting place for me.

The guilt I felt for saying those last words to my momma was staggering.  In my teenage mind, I knew I couldn’t share those words with anyone. Ever. I knew they would think I was horrible and that I had killed her. And I really thought my words might have killed her. Thoughts began to enter  my mind that maybe I got up in the middle of the night and murdered her. The evil thoughts were relentless.  I pushed it all down. I pushed it down deep. I pretended none of it happened or was happening.  But logically, I knew it had.

After I returned from Pizza Getti  momma's body was gone and the commotion had calmed down. They had taken her to a funeral home on Military Parkway. Friends of my parents were at the house making plans I guess. That time is a blur . All I remember is these words playing over and over in my mind : “Get the f___ out of my room! I hate you and I wish you were dead.” and picturing the hurt and pain on momma's face when I said them to her. No matter how hard I tried , nothing would stop that tape from playing in my head, then rewinding and playing again. Over and over.

I remember various people trying to comfort me but I would not let my guard down. Ever. I never cried in front of one person. It was extremely hard, but I was determined not to show any emotion. I resolved to be nothing beyond stoic. But to keep that up  I needed to get away and be alone although that is what I feared the most was being by myself. The fear that people would see me for who I really was made me want to bolt.  I feared those around me could see the thoughts racing in my mind. It was such a horrible feeling. The wounded little girl inside of me wanted  her daddy to hug her and tell her it would be okay and that it wasn't her fault. But my daddy couldn't be that for me, he became even more emotionally remote than before, ignoring me and shutting me out. I'm sure he was fighting his own demons.  The isolation, lonliness, and fear were exhausting.

At some point, I slipped away by myself and went to the funeral home. No one was really paying attention to me anyways.  A lady who worked there asked me if I wanted to see my mom. I said, “Yes.”  Thankfully she left me alone and as I looked at my mother in the casket, I  finally broke and lost all control completely falling apart.  I remember just throwing myself at the casket, hitting it with my arms, pleading and begging  forgiveness. I hit the casket so hard I bruised both of my arms.

Graduation '79- What should have been a day of celebration turned tragic instead.

My senior photo, I'm on the top row with a crazy tan line :)

Next, high school graduation followed prom. Our school had hundreds of graduates and the ceremony seemed to go on forever. It was hot in the Dallas Convention Center. The main thing I remember is all my friends meeting their parents and families, getting hugs, and congratulations. Photographs being taken to capture this milestone in their lives.  I once again, was alone. As I walked through the crowds I looked anxiously for my father, hoping and praying he had made it there for me. I was so proud I had graduated with honors and I thought he would be proud too. I knew my mother wouldn’t be there because she was already passed out when I left my house earlier. I surely thought my dad be there for me.  He wasn’t. I was heartbroken and felt numb. No one had come to support me.

As I looked around, I was certain everyone knew that no one had come for me. The hurt and pain were incomprehensible, but by this point, I was angry too. I think on some level I thought that if I achieved enough and was popular enough my parents would change and pay attention to me. Little did I know? I did not have that power. No matter how amazingly I performed, they were not going to change until they dealt with their own pain. Sadly, this never happened.

That night I went to graduation parties and got very drunk. The alcohol dismissed my self control and I remember crying uncontrollably. It was a horrible feeling believing that I didn’t matter to anyone. The next day was a Sunday and I went to the lake with my boyfriend to go water skiing. We had a lot of fun and I was able to forget the pain from the day before. I arrived home fairly late that night and was exhausted. I went straight to my bedroom. After changing clothes, my mother staggered into my bedroom.  I hated her and was just so tired of dealing with her. So much had happened in the last few weeks and I think I blamed her for everything: for my dad leaving, for no one helping make my prom magical, and no one coming to see and be proud of me for graduating with honors. She was very, very drunk and had to grab the door frame to steady herself. She just looked at me not saying one word. Looking at her, I was filled with contempt and I told her to “Get the f___ out of my room! I hate you and I wish you were dead.” . The look of hurt and sadness on her face is embedded in my memory. She backed out of my room, I slammed the door shut, and went to sleep.

The next day was Memorial Day, 1979. I slept very late, until almost noon. My friend Cheri and I were going to go to Lake Ray Hubbard to lie out in the sun. We had been working hard on our tans as we were getting ready for our graduation trip to Hawaii. When I woke up, I walked down the hall to the kitchen to get something to drink and eat. As I passed my childhood room where my mom now slept because of the fire, I thought my mother was sleeping in. I paused because I didn’t hear her. Her breathing was always very labored and could be heard easily. I couldn’t hear a thing. It was silent.

Walking into my childhood room was like walking into a time warp because it had remained unchanged from when I was a little girl .The stuffed animals were still arranged in one corner, my baby dolls were in their carriages, my favorite Little Kittle House was still set up, my Barbies were in place, and the room was decorated with white princess furniture that every girl I knew seemed to have. I called out, “Momma”