my mother

I grew up with very overprotective parents. They wouldn’t even let me ride a bike, because the feared I’d get hurt, or kidnapped, or something. They were always heavily involved in my healthcare because I’ve had asthma since I was a baby, and they were so paranoid about keeping me healthy and safe.

So when I got my “preliminary” fibro diagnosis, I told my mom on the phone (my parents live very far away), and she said “oh” or “oh yeah?” or some other noncommittal response. I thought maybe she was preoccupied or hadn’t heard me. Last night I told her I went to a rheumatologist, who confirmed that I had fibromyalgia, and she said “yeah you said that already.” No questions, no “gosh that’s too bad,” no nothing.

I’m not sure if she didn’t care, or didn’t know how to care. I would have appreciated some dialogue about fibro and what that means for me. Maybe a discussion about how it’s impacting my life compared to pre-fibro days.

This is all making me realise my parents are not the support system I expected them to be, and further confirms my opinion that family is the people who care about you, and that may not involve sharing DNA. I’m sure my mother cares about me, but she’s not very good at showing that. It’s a shame, since it’s obviously caused our relationship to suffer.

I’m interested in reading other people’s experiences when they’ve “come out” to loved ones as being a “spoonie.”

I’m so thankful for my support system as I go through this. Even if it doesn’t include my mother.

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2 Responses to “my mother”

  1. Maija Haavisto Says:

    Maybe she just didn’t know what fibromyalgia really means? I mean, most people know it means aches and pains and stuff, but very few have any idea of how disabling it can be.

    I know my parents have never understood the severity of my condition. They seem to think I could function normally if I just “toughed it out” – which is ironic considering my mom is on disability for bipolar disorder and is officially 100% handicapped (even though she can do and does do many things I couldn’t even dream about doing).

    I’ve cut all contact with my mom years ago, but it hurts me that my dad never asks me how I am. Even when he was paying for my meds and very expensive doctor visits when I couldn’t afford them myself, he never asked if the meds were helping me or anything. My grandma is the only one who asks, and I usually try to make it seem like I’m OK, because she’s depressed and when she’s worried she overeats (she’s morbidly obese and 80 years old, so I don’t really want to trigger her binge eating).

    My mom, too, was almost overcontrolling and overprotective (besides being generally abusive, delusional and very dangerous).

    • fibrofatty Says:

      It’s very possible she doesn’t know what it means. I’m kind of surprised she didn’t ask, though, if that’s the case. I didn’t mention this, but she’s worked in healthcare for about 20 years, and I would have expected her to have some experience with it, although now I’m thinking she really hasn’t.

      That’s a real shame that with all you’ve been through, your father never asked if any of the treatments were successful, or just how you were feeling. That makes me sad.

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