This is Really, really tough for me to confront/write about, and b/c of a recent occurrence-I need help and cannot delay this any longer. This is my first time reaching out, I suppose that I should start my story from the beginning: I started getting "sick" at the age of two years old. This is when my mother first began to take me in to the hospital regularly, sometimes multiple times in a night. I was diagnosed, misdiagnosed, tested and re-tested until finally they landed on something to call it-which they found through a muscle biopsy at the age of 6. My symptoms were that of extreme vomiting, sweating, my body would emit a sort of toxic scent-likened to a "fishy odour" leading up to, and during my event of getting sick. I would become ill on the dot, every two months, waking up w symptoms of dizzy-ness that would come in waves, and vomiting. The doctors pinned me with Mitochondrial Myopathy at the age of 6 after running me through constant tests that would come back negative, or normal. Honestly, I have none of the symptoms for Mitochondrial Mypathy-and never have. No muscle pain or weakness, no wheelchair. I'm fine. This mysterious disease that I had was something that was attributed to the Mitochondrial Myopathy my entire life. I would get sick every two months, my mom would take me in, and they would pump me full of drugs on an I.V. Wash, rinse, repeat. They never questioned anything that my mom had to say. She was friends with the nurses, and bc the Mitochondrial Myopathy was so rare, and very little was known about it-the doctors would basically listen to her. It wasn't until I was twelve and one of the doctors on asked me how my head pain was on a scale of one to ten, and I responded fine, I don't have any head pain-that I started to think my illness had nothing to do with Mitochondrial Myopathy(Let's just call it M.M.). Part of M.M. deals with lack of energy and muscle weakness . I always had to be given snacks and was given special treatment in school. The school nurses, and all of the staff knew that I was a special sick kid, and my mom was very closely involved with all of them. She was careful to tell my P.E. teachers to not have me excercise(bc of the M.M.) which led to poor muscle structure and an unhealthy way of life at a very young age. Again, it wasn't until about twelve that I started to work out and realize that everything I had ever been told was a lie. My illness, whatever it was, was awful. I don't want to elaborate, bc even now as I write this it makes me shake and terrified to recall. I would feel on the brink of death. The vomiting and dizziness would stop the next day after fluids and medications were given. The medications since the age of two administered to me every two months when sick were- Morphine(typically an I.V. Pump) or Demerol, and phenergan. I was given multiple vitamins and had to take Carnitine in liquid form, two and a half teaspoons three times a day. I eventually stopped all of these w no problems. I think after I started questioning my disease and working out at twelve, is when I noticed my mom going to therapy. I remember her telling me that she had 4 different therapists, and that they were working on her "letting me go"(having more freedom). Let's explain a little about my mom, and the relationship aspect and how it plays in. She is a moody, unstable individual, and a severe closet-alcoholic. She was repeatedly, and severely molested and abused(and neglected) as a child. She would grow up to be a very mean mother, indeed. I remember her hitting me, screaming, ignoring me to have sex with her boyfriend. She was terrifying, or very sweet. Fake, even-bc InnFront of everyone else-she wanted to appear as the helpless(single mom) with a sick daughter. She adopted my brother at birth, while married, and conceived me with another man 5 years later. She treats my brother and I completely differently. He is like her pet. I now believe after finding out that her divorce was because of my conception(the man she was married to was sterile) that she would later blame and hate me for it. Everything was about single mom this, and single mom that. She would fly off on a rage out of nowhere-squeezing my mouth shut, slapping me, shoving me in a room and locking the door. When I would get sick(even though it was routine and usually always in the morning time bc I would wake up sick) she would take her time, while I would scream and vomit on myself. I remember distinctly watching her curl her hair, blow dry it, pit on her makeup, and an hour or two later, we would finally leave. At the hospital, again-she was very involved(we went to one of the nurse's weddings) and nice to everyone else. She still would be cruel or slap me behind closed doors, I.v. And all. This was normal to me. She was overbearing, and always meddling in my life. Her relationships with men were always messed up. She seemed to try and pin my brother against me as well, spoiling him and making it seem as though I was the cause of his unhappiness and anything bad that happened. He is now a thirty-something year old, living with my mom, and a functioning alcoholic. The most recent even that pushed me to write in here involved his dog-a sweet pug we will call K. But to sum up how I am still here: I stopped getting sick at 12. When I got into a more serious 'adult relationship at 17(still living at home) I began getting I'll again. When I moved out, my mom would send me care packages. It was only after getting sick eitherA) after she visited or b) after eating one of these huge care packages that she would mail me that I started to think that I was getting poisoned some way. I was 19. After I verbalized to my mother how I felt, and that I thought it was Reeeeaaallly strange that after having this big illness that was such a big deal for so long, and *poof* it just disappears and no one questions it or even talks about it anymore, I thought it was strange. I eluded that I thought she had done something. She exploded with narcissistic tears, how could you do this to me, blah blah. I haven't been sick since, and not a single word about it. Our relationship remained rocky and distant, and at 23 when I began dating my present boyfriend, I cut her off. She tried to meddle,..her and my brother stole my car in the middle of the night bc they had a key-even though I had paid it off it was still in her name. I had received scathing messages from my brother asking me how I could do this-but I was open to him about what I really had thought about her and that she'd somehow been making me sick, but I think bc he is adopted and has been made to be her pet-he did not want to believe it. Those two years were the best, happiest, most healthy of my life. Something happened, and I got to a low point, let my guilt get to me, and decided to let her in my life again. My boyfriend knows everything. He wishes that I wouldn't talk to her, but he also understands my wish to keep it at a distance. I watch her around my food, if I'm not there, then my bf is. I keep her emotionally at a distance. I realize that she is sick, and constantly seeking attention. She is a speech therapist and a semi-rundown school. She gets to play God at her job, and decide who has what, who delayed, who's on the spectrum. Everyone's always sick. As a baby, I had slow muscle development, yada yada. I am fine. She would eat it up with the doctors before I knew any better. I remember being at the dr. Office and getting ushered out of the room. They would have me play with toys, and when I would come back in, my mom would be sobbing. I later learned that when they would do this, they were going over my prognosis, and my mom was told, and believed-that I would be in a wheelchair by thirteen. I have been liked, prodded, filled up, and drained, put through more pain than you can imagine. When I was 11 I was sent to be involved in a M.M. study for Children at the Children's Hospital of San Diego. I was put through hell for absolutely no reason. They starved me for three days, made me chug one and a half pints of pure fructose sugar and then monitored my reaction. They stuck probes in my eyes in a dark room, I saw myself in a mirror with copper wires jutting out from all around the circumference of my iris. I had needles stuck I to my muscled and then shocked with electricity. I later learned that bc I was under 18, without me knowing, my mom had signed off on me to be a part of this study. You are probably wondering more about the M.M. Well I know it is all bullsh**, bc it is handed down through the female genome, so literally everyone on my mom's side, including my mom, has it. We get migraines(bc that IS something that runs in my family and causes problems) but other than that we are all healthy within normal standards. I have absolutely NONE of the symptoms for Mitochondrial Myopathy. The doctors clearly just pinniped it to that after thousands of tests, bc they didn't know what else to do. So, bringing us to the present. My brother's dog recently became ill. He was a Pug, and 13 so his time was coming, but the way it all happened scared me. My mom seemed resentful to be the one to watch my brother's dog every night, while he went out to party. After K. had an ear infection, my mom acted like he was already dead. The vet told my brother, and my mom, that K. Looked healthy otherwise, and would be just fine. My brother begged my mom to stop acting like he was dead. Sure enough, after a dramatic week, K. was perfectly fine, and healthy again after some antibiotics(it was an ear infection). So here is where is gets scary: the day after K. was acting fine again, my mom fed K. & her dog, some bad ground meat. Severe diarrhea ensued. She says that her dog didn't eat as much as K. did-so my brother's 13 year old dog got severely sick. She took hi. To the vet, and got him on anti diarrhea meds. He then had incredibly labored breathing. I saw him, and asked her if she's given him too much medication, and she blamed it on the vet, saying that she heard them speaking about having administered too much. Yeah, right. She even tried to get him on pain meds, and the vet apparently snapped at her and said"Now why would we do that? Just where do you think he has pain?" On New Year's Eve day, K. Was taken to the vet again, given a few shots, and was eating and going to the potty just fine. That night, when my brother was headed out to celebrate, he told me that my mom was furious. She asked him,"You aren't going to stay home and take care of your sick dog??" When my brother showed up at my mom's request the next morning, as him and his friend walked in to the house, my mom was sitting there holding K.'s dead body. She said,"He didn't make it." My brother's friend started screaming, and freaking out, bc she hadn't told them anything. When my mom recounted what had happened as he died to my bf and I, we both got the same exact feeling that she had chocked him to death. My mom said that he was panting all night, and she wet his tongue. When she lifted him up to take him outside, his whole body jerked up-and he died. She told me that her heart was pounding like crazy. I thought that was strange. She kept saying it too-how her heart kept pounding as he was dying, and for hours afterwards. My mom and my bf left for a bit the day K died, and that's when my brother said it, he asked me if I thought our mom had killed his dog. He said it had been in his mind the whole time. It's refreshing to know that he's not completely ignorant, but creepy to have that conversation with your family about your mom. Now she's saying her dog is sick. She books doctor appointments left and right. Every week it's something : the dentist, the eye dr.,dermatologist, ect ect.
My question is this: if my mom IS capable of killing a dog, do you think she's capable of doing the same to a human? Where do I go from here? How do I keep her at a safe distance without constantly being plagued by my brother or worse? Is there a way of stopping her, and how? Do you think that she has 'Munchausen's and Munchausen's by Proxy? I know it sounds crazy, but I am a child of her, and that barrier still just doesn't allow me to know. Please help. I am scared, and I need help from the community
I will end on this: I never forgot the time I was laying in the hospital bed, and watching a crime show on the t.v. with my mom. The child was getting ill by her mom, and that's when my own mother turned to me and said,"It's called Munchausen's by Proxy. It's when the mom makes the child sick." And the way she eluded to something more made it to where it has never left my mind, even as a child.
Thanks for reading