For the love of Mum
On Mother’s Day, Krysalis brain injury blogger, Anne Ricketts reveals how her brother’s death created a “strange dynamic” between her and her mother…
Unconditional love
Thirteen months before I was born, my mother, who was pregnant with my surviving brother, lost her firstborn, John, to meningitis.
There was no grief counselling back then, and, as I grew up, I was always very wary of being gentle on Mum’s time and heart.
I was the invisible child, as good as gold and always treated differently to my brother. I was the forgotten one!
Sometimes, I think I was born with the capacity to be introspective because I can remember coming home from school at the age of six with a reading award.
A test had shown I had the reading ability of a 16-year-old, and I received a certificate to commemorate the achievement.
But no matter how many honours and medals I won, they never even saw a shelf to collect dust on, and no praise nor encouragement ever came my way.
My Mum told me she was proud of me when I was 23 at a dinner party she held for her friends. I always felt it was to impress them, rather than being a truth she felt about me.
I loved her; I loved her with all my heart and soul, and I understood her. I never felt needy of her love or praise and instead felt that loving her without condition was a part of my life purpose.
The 'Inbetween'
I was 36, estranged from my husband, Tim, and setting up a new business when I fell on my head in July 2000. Now there was no one to take any notice of me.
With a serious traumatic brain injury (TBI), I was vulnerable. Everyone took advantage of me, but no one helped.
Without any self-awareness, I battered my way from one moment to the next, trying with all my might to be and to appear normal.
Everything I touched, did and said didn't only go wrong – I was chaos walking. At best, my Mum neglected me, treated me as a nuisance, and would ignore me if I visited.
I was called lazy, ignorant, selfish, and all manner of other pretty awful things. But I loved my Mum because she needed always to be loved.
Nothing would stop me from fulfilling my destiny, and because love isn't something we give - it flows through us - I could keep the doors in my heart open.
Having decided there was never going to be an opportunity to be understood or heard, I decided that I had the patience to let Mum work it all out in her own time.
This belief in our relationship's strange dynamic was so ingrained into me that it continued after my brain injury.
I held no expectations of Mum – as I said, I just loved her. Despite the nasty looks and derogatory comments, I realised the most important person to re-understand was me.
Impetus for change
My brain doesn't make linear memories anymore. I struggle to know what happens and in what order, along with when.
What I do know is that I was persistent. Instead of backing off, I continued to visit Mum, and even though she couldn't see 'me' anymore, deep inside, I hadn't changed at all.
I think Mum already had her cancer diagnosis when I noticed that her husband, my beloved Malcolm, had begun to struggle with cognitive tasks.
Without a doubt, I knew there was something wrong; I had lived what I was witnessing.
I organised a doctor’s appointment, and within a very short time, Malcolm was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease. Mum had thought he was just awkward or difficult, but there was no doubt about the signs to me.
As time progressed and spending most of my time caring for them, Mum began to tell people that I had spotted Malcolm's Alzheimer's because I had a brain injury!
My thinking is that Mum recognised that the disease would have progressed to a point where it couldn't be so well managed without my recognition of its presence.
Everything changed. Suddenly I was needed, and Mum would chat to her friends about everything I had been through even though she had never acknowledged it.
The end
I spent over six months of my time with Mum and Malcolm in her last year of life. Too weak to keep Malcolm in the real world with us, the burden of this fell to me.
I was a master! I knew exactly how to keep him in the present and precisely how to keep his confidence going.
I knew how to speak to him when he misbehaved or got lost and helped him stay feeling like himself.
The stress he was under would cast him into his distant past, and I would listen and help him find his way back to the present.
As Mum became bed-ridden, I would sit by her side, waiting for her to wake. My daughter was staying to help and, because she was used to handling me with my brain injury, she was also a natural with Malcolm.
These were the most profound and poignant times of my life. A nurse came in one day and said she felt as though she could grasp and bottle the love in the flat.
Sitting one day with Mum as she slept, she suddenly came awake. She looked at me aghast with eyes wide open and said, "Annie! You are buffalo!"
I asked her, "Are you talking about our previous life, Mum?"
"Yes! You know I am," she replied
To confirm, I asked, "The one where Andy was my big brother then too?"
"Yes! Yes! You know he was," Mum said.
Now I will tell you this. Throughout my childhood, I had a recurring dream.
I lived in a log cabin beside a shallow mountain river. The prairie filled all the gaps to the forest, the mountains and the horizon.
The local native Americans used the ford by our cabin to cross the river to trade in the nearest town many miles away.
I spent many hours with them, and they told me my totem was the buffalo.
Whatever you do this Mother's Day and whether you have a mum who is here or passed, love her. Love her without condition.
Trust the perfectness of your path and the nature of your duties.
The neglect in my childhood prepared and strengthened me for the isolation of brain injury. As an invisible child, I grew independent and capable.
When you doubt – let the love and life flow.
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Holding onto your dreams post brain injury
Anne Ricketts is the founder of Global Brain Injury Awareness (GBIA); a not-for-profit community interest company she launched after sustaining a traumatic brain injury in July 2000. GBIA aims to inform and support people in need after brain injury. More here: https://www.globalbia.org/ and more of Anne’s writing here: https://insidetbi.blog/