My biological mother is insane. Crazy. Wacky. Zonked. Out there. Nutso. Bonkers. Whacked. Batty. Unhinged.
This is a known thing. It’s not a surprise or anything like that. As the years have progressed, she explored further and further out to the fringe away from normalcy, and I’d like to think that in some small way my own adventurousness has given her some kind of personal permission to do this. I have never toed the party line nor bothered with what others considered arbitrarily “acceptable”. I’ve danced to my own beat and done my own thing, and I think that allowed her to explore these things for herself.
Now, she’s kinda trying to come back. I won’t say “coming back to center”, because that’s not a healthy place to be. She’s working on resolving things instead of burying them, facing her emotional responsibilities instead of pretending they aren’t there, and moving out of the mausoleum of the past into the room of the present.
As I mentioned, in a couple of weeks, I’ll be in Texas. I’m going to fly down, rent a car, sort out Ginger’s stuff, take everything where it needs to go (including moving things between kids’ houses), and then rent a truck and take everything else up here.
So, as I mentioned, Ginger is crazy. But, I’m helping her. Maybe that makes me crazy, too, but I don’t think it’s quite in a bad way this time.