After my early claim on independence I found myself staying with my mother temporarily on five separate occasions, or over the span of three years between my twentieth and twenty-third birthdays. The first time I stayed with her I had just turned twenty and was fresh back from six rather strange months spent in Toronto. I at first tried to reconcile with my father who met me at the airport. I stayed in his family room for three nights then he shipped me off to my mother. She had less room since she was in a one bedroom apartment but unlike my father she loved me and cared about me so it was a worthy trade-off.
While couch surfing at my mom's in Richmond I studiously avoided contact with my father and looked for employment with the objective of finding a place to live in Vancouver as soon as possible. Mom's friend had found her apartment for her a year and a half a go when she was fleeing from her abusive Fat Studly Romeo on Vancouver Island. It was a class act. After dispatching me to my premature independence upon leaving high school Mom then focussed on getting away from the idiot she was lovers with for over the past year of so. Her friend helped find her a job in addition to the apartment. She secretly packed and sorted everything she could and Fat Studly Romeo was usually too drunk to notice. Everything was ready and she got some friends on board who took him off on a fishing trip early on a Sunday morning in August. As soon as the rubber hit the road the moving van rolled in and within an hour Mom was on her way to her new life in Richmond leaving behind Fat Studly Romeo's two sole pieces of furniture: a TV and a telephone table (remember those?)
She phoned me the same day and asked me to help her unpack. A couple of friends from church joined me and we were only too glad to help. Two months later Fat Studly Romeo found her and tried to kill her. I'm sure Mom didn't tell me everything but she did mention that he tried to strangle her and for some reason decided to not kill her. We never saw or heard of him since and I imagine he must be dead now.
What galled me most about living with Mom again was her stubborn refusal to acknowledge that I was already an adult. The breaking point was when she threw out a shirt that I liked because she didn't like it. That was the only time that I nearly punched my own mother. I also was less than fond of the idea of losing my cherished independence and was determined that I would be out of there as soon as possible.
I eventually found a job (furniture swamping) and a place to live at the end of April. Even if my new living conditions were less than ideal and less comfortable than Mom's sofa and living room at least I was on my own again. She was oppressive and controlling and as much as I loved her I had no intention of living with her again.
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