Wednesday, September 12, 2007

9-11 Remembered

I figured, why be cliché and do my 9/11 memories the day of? Why not do it, the day after! Because not every NYC blog has to do a retrospective on the same day, does it?

Yes, I was working that day. It was while I was temping, trying to ‘find myself,’ so for that week was a receptionist for some firm around Grand Central. They had just installed a big screen television in the conference room, so we got to see the crash in ginormous detail. And CNN, being what it is, kept replaying pictures of the people jumping from the towers over, and over, and over again.

As luck would have it, my mother had a work related conference around the World Trade Center, so she was in town. We were going to have dinner that night. My best friend had also recently taken a job around there as well.

When I heard of the crash, I called my friend first. I was still talking to my mother, questioning why, but still wanted her to BE a mother. But I called my friend first and don’t regret it. The smoke was so thick she couldn’t see out the window. Alarms were blaring. Neither of us believed that the planes held passengers. We didn’t know what was going on.

After my friend said they were evacuating them to the roof (and she promised to call once safe) I could turn my attention to my mother. Her work didn’t know what happened, and now we were being evacuated. Some people asked if my mother was okay, I told them I wasn’t sure.

(If I’m going to be honest, part of me wanted her to be there and die. Not only would I not have the problem of what to do with my mother and struggle to completely cut her off, as I later did, but in completely mean retrospect, she could have done so much more for me had she died then in terms of monetary value, then the agony of her living. As my best friend said though, evil never dies.)

We all went to the home of one of the Senior Partners. It was somewhere in the 60s/70s on the East Side. Once there, I found out my mother was fine and in her hotel. I called her there, and she was freaking out. She didn’t feel safe (the hotel was around Penn Station) and thought for sure she’d die. She wanted to stay with me as I live uptown. Being the dutiful daughter, I walked to her hotel and got her. Then we made our way to my house (the trains were working, she was acting like a scared 5 year old and I had to bribe her with ice cream and Diet Coke). Once off the train we stopped to get her Ben & Jerry’s and soda.

All she wanted to do at my house was call all her friends (long-distance) and keep watching the footage from the attack. She told me it was her way of coping. I told her it was running up a bill I couldn’t afford to pay and that I didn’t like the constant blaring of the TV.

Should I mention now that I live in a studio? A Manhattan studio? So imagine her and I and Penny in this small an apartment when she tells me – “oh yeah honey, I didn’t bring my medication.”

There was a lot of stuff that happened but I’ll cut to the chase – after getting sick of her and going for a walk I came back to see she had put all these hair clips over (and in) Penny who was cowering in the corner. Penny was in pain. I had left her alone with my mother, and felt bad for it. I turned to my mother and asked her if it felt good hurting others, knowing that she has caused everyone around her so much pain. Her reply:

“Yes, it makes me feel powerful.”

She admitted it, she finally admitted it.

I kicked her out, got her a train ticket, and sent her home. She never paid for the long distance calls, saying I should understand, that she doesn’t have the money, excuse after excuse flowing from her mouth. I cut my long distance after that and slowly began the process of cutting her off completely.

(I'm re-reading this now, and when I rewrite this more non-blog formal, I think the title will be "How 9-11 Helped Me See The Terrorist In My Own Home")


Amel's Realm said...

I was curious about what happened to you that day, Vic. Now I know.

I understand why you wanted your Mother dead that day. She hurt Penny and made lots of long-distance phone calls? Geez...

It's good that you've now cut her off your life. :-))))

Victorya said...

Ah Amel, I wanted her dead before that happened - the cowards way out. I knew she was bad for me, but couldn't cut myself off. Then, after 9/11, I had the strength to cut her off.

And I left out, A LOT! Like how she threw all this stuff that my best friend got me down the incinerator (she put it in a black trashbag, said she was helping me 'clean'), how she kept moving everything around in my house to 'where it belongs,' etc. Just in general terrorizing me and my poor kitty to make herself feel 'more powerful' and in control.

Amel's Realm said...


That was a total intrusion of your privacy! I'd have gone REALLY angry if my mother or father had done such a thing to me. I love my privacy and I love having things wherever I have put them in the first place.

Well, all in all I'm glad you've cut her off your life for six years now! ;-D

cherished79 said...

Wow, Vic, you write some powerful stuff. For me, the 911 recount was terrifying, but the memories of your mother supercedes all of this. (Don't mean to discount 911). It was vicious was she did and yet so very controlling. I should have read better - Is she still alive?

I am back with my mom, but the wounds are still there, sometimes open and sore. Forgive slightly - never forget. Take care, kiddo.

Victorya said...

cherished - I feel guilt at times about how 9-11 really made me see how she was my own personal terrorist, that's what that day did for me. Everything else in the macrocosm was so surreal, then to come down to the microcosm and realize how realy it was? eye-opening.

And yes, she's still alive, last I knew at least.

Amel - can you beleive it? Destroying such things and just acting like it was her house I had messed up. I love your avatar by the way! so cute!