Why Emerson
Repost of my “I’ll Try to Explain it” post
I’ve gotten a few comments and several emails about my recent “obsession” with Emerson Hart; all have been very kind an encouraging and hopeful that I will get to see him soon. That being said, some have asked what has sparked this need to see him (and get a hug!). I’d love to say it’s simple and I could tell you in just a few words, but it’s not and I can’t. There is some back-story required, so sit back and be patient as I try to wade through the insanity of my life.
My mom has been married twice; once to Bill (my dad) and to Joe (my sisters dad). Bill was her first husband; he was highly abusive emotionally and physically. My mother left Bill when I was an infant or toddler and filed for divorce. Bill threatened to kidnap me on many occasions, but once she remarried Joe, he seemed to disappear. Joe adopted me a few years into their marriage and my sister, Ashley, came along when I was 10. Joe was not an abusive husband the way Bill was, he just cheated on her and left her without warning.
Through both marriages, my mother was a wonderful and loving woman. She loved dancing and family outings and mostly, she loved to laugh. That woman began to disappear in the years after her divorce from Joe. She became a bitter and jaded single mom who used her children as middle men in what would be a nasty post-divorce relationship that lasted for almost 10 years.
Over this time I saw not only an emotional change in my mom, there was also “chemical” change in her as well. My mom, like myself, has been diagnosed with migraine headaches. Between her headaches and whatever her “ailment of the moment” was, she had became a walking pharmacy. Like many people who have access to a wide variety of narcotics, she became addicted to them.
Refusing to seek treatment for both her depression and her addiction, I began to grow away from her. The once fun loving woman I knew had became a mean spirited and selfish. If were to come home from school and talk about a bad day, she would tell me “You don’t have problems…I have problems. Try being me.” and things along those lines. She had emotionally checked out on both my sister and I. Things I had confided into her (physical abuse by a family member, my own depression) was of no concern to her and I was told I was making up issues to get attention. There was even a time that she allowed the person who had abused me to live with us for a short period of time fully knowing that persons history with me.
I moved away from home at 19 and tried to distance myself from her as much as I could. But when I got married and had Eli, I knew I couldn’t keep her out too much. From the time E was born til the time I moved to Richmond (4 years ago), we battled various issues…my past abuse, my sisters medical/mental issues and my mothers own substance abuse.
About 3 years ago my sister was diagnosed with bipolar personality disorder. I was saddened but optimistic since she was diagnosed at 16. My mom refusing to take it seriously would always deflect any questions my sister had about her disorder to me. I know people with the disorder and studied it in college, so I could help her some, but she really needed her mom (who she lived with) to help her through most of this. She didn’t though. She ignore my forewarnings about the behaviors my sister could display and soon I was getting that call…the one you dread.
No, my sister wasn’t dead, but she was on drugs and alcohol and practicing cutting…you know, her own skin. My mother refused to take her to seek medical or psychological treatment because it would be to “embarrassing” for her. Are you kidding me?
Then a couple of months later my mother called my in complete panic. Ashley had run away. I asked who she had called to help find her. Her doctor? Case manager? The cops? She had called no one…wait that’s not true, she called me. I scolded her harshly, hung up and called the ER in the town they lived in. After crying to the nurse, she said she was going to call the police and the mental health clinic. I called my mother back to let her know what I had done and to see who she’d contacted….no one else but me. Furious, I said if anything had happened to my sister, I would never forgive her.
A few hours later I received a call from the police department from my home town saying they had found my sister. She was doing well and had moved in with her boyfriend that day. She had moved out while my mom was at work (my sister had just turned 18) and left my mom a note. I called my mom and she finally confessed she knew the truth, but wanted to scare my sister, but didn’t want Ashley mad at her. She knew I would call someone and I would be responsible for the “check up” and be mad at me. That’s just grand. I told her that night to not contact me until she had sought treatment for her addictions. That was over two ears ago…she’s still getting high and I am still sticking to my guns..and I will until she gives cleaning up a chance.
On February 12, my wonderful sister had a beautiful baby boy of her own. I’ve yet to meet him and I can’t wait til I do. I’m an aunt! Sadly, it has brought to the surface a great deal of emotions and hard feelings on my part towards my mom. I desperately want to get over everything and be her “daughter” again. Truth is, I haven’t been her daughter in over 10 years. More like she hasn’t been my mom. This is not the woman who gave birth to me and nurtured me so well as a youngster. No, that woman is dead and there is a person who looks just like her and using her name claiming to be my mom. I do not know that woman, and I don’t want to.
So that brings us to Emerson Hart and his music. If you don’t know his back-story, you should learn it. It’s amazing and it’s what connects me to him. These past few weeks I have been really, well, bummed. I miss my family. I miss my sister and I miss my mom no matter our problems. I don’t want to give in, but it doesn’t make me not miss her…miss the old her. Emerson’s music has hit a chord in me that rings true to my life experiences. Songs like I Know are the anthem of my existence right now. Green Hills Race For California triggers such strong emotion that I weep with every listen. And I know that I Wish The Best for You is written about a trouble married couple, but as I hear it, I see my mom and I. I do wish the best for her…and I love her enough to back off…not be her enabler and validate what she does by sticking around and ignoring the problem.
So that’s it in a nutshell…a very large nutshell, but oh well. Hopefully it will help explain why his music means so much to me and more than anything I would love to just give him a hug and say thank you for helping me get through this. I know he’s said that doing this album was therapy for him, I wonder if he knows how therapeutic his album has been for others.
