I Had A Mother Who Suffered From Kleptomania
I was in denial for years about my mother 's mental condition. She had always suffered from Bi-Polar disorder, but I had always told myself she could snap out of it if she wanted. She'd always been on anti-psychotic drugs and I also lied to myself about that too. "She doesn't't really need them. She could be normal if she wanted to."
By the time I was 14 my mother had tried to kill herself by taking all of her pills. She didn't't succeed and was in and out of mental hospitals most of my life. I was always aware of her issues with depression and it was hard to live with. I made it my responsibility to make it better. It never worked and I blamed myself a lot. I convinced myself that I just wasn't't good at helping people. You can't talk someone out of a mental disorder, but that's what I know now.
What I or no one else in the family realized was that bi-polar disorder displays itself in many different ways all depending on the person. It's a highway with many intersections. In my mother's case one of those outlets was Kleptomania. When I think back on being aware of her problem for the first time I remember being pregnant with my daughter and her going to the grocery store and changing the prices on certain items. You could do that back then before the computer generation took over. Technically that's not stealing, but it certainly is a form of it. From there it turned into taking things back to the store that had never came from that store. She made me feel abnormal because I didn't't have the conscience to do what she was doing. She had treated me so bad once that I had to do it. She wouldn't't take no for an answer. Right after that experience I didn't't care how mad she got I refused to ever do it again.
I could go on and on with examples of ways my mom acted dishonestly, but the bottom line is it all lead to the revelation that somewhere along the line she had turned into a Kleptomaniac. I didn't't give it that name at the time. It was just plain stealing and she needed to stop. One day she came home from the store and her van was completely full with all kinds of stuff. It's value exceeded what I knew she had and none of it was in bags. Me and my daughter carried it in. Every step of the way we knew she'd stolen it. She was very happy at the time, but then finally she sat there quietly looking sad. She vowed she'd never do it again.
It wasn't't long after that my brother got her a job where he worked. He was a janitorial supervisor and she became a janitor there dusting office cubicles. At Christmas time we all received weird gifts from her. Unique knicknacks and educational kinds of things. I wondered where she'd found these things. When I questioned her about what stores she'd shopped at she wouldn't make eye contact with me. As it turned out she'd stolen all those things from the desks of the cubicles she'd been cleaning. They were starting to notice things missing and had reviewed the camera footage. There she was stealing. My brother swore up and down she hadn't done that and even surrendered the house to the police to search. Big mistake. They found everything. They could have pressed charges on her but they fired her and took the remainder of what was left of what she'd stolen. As for my brother, he was fired. Guilt by association.
We didn't notice anymore stealing after that for quite awhile. It started happening again, at least to our knowledge, the last few years of her life. She got involved in a shoplifting ring. She made up a lot of stories about where the stuff came from but in the end she had to admit she'd stolen it. It was beyond anything she'd ever done. It was obsessive compulsive gone wild. The stuff went from the floor to the ceiling all over her apartment. You couldn't hardly walk through the front door. She would give me some of this stuff and I would leave it on the street corner.
She ended up getting caught over and over again. I would tell her to stop and she would just look at me helplessly and say she didn't know why the police wouldn't just leave her alone. I was very angry at her. They kept letting her go but finally they decided to keep her. It had went from a misdemeanor to a felony because of the value of what she'd stolen. They intended to keep her for a long while. We were all at our wits end but apparently so was Momma. Three days into her stay in jail she died of a stroke.
Since then I have left my bubble of denial behind. My momma was mentally ill and she never wanted to be. She couldn't just give it up. You can tell a cockroach to leave but that doesn't mean he's going to listen. As far as I'm concerned the Kleptomania was a bi-product of the Bi-polar disorder. If any of us had known how far the disease would end up taking her we would have intervened. None of us wanted to upset her worse but the truth is our lack of intervention and her being the victim of her own hands was her undoing.
Kleptomania is a real disease, a mental condition that will rob those afflicted with it of there freedom and they will ultimately lose the favor of their families and finally they will be past the point of loving themselves. Since my mother's death I have come to accept that she was mentally ill and there was no talking her out of it. I am able to look at who she really was and love her for that, abandoning the memory of the person that killed her in the end.
By the time I was 14 my mother had tried to kill herself by taking all of her pills. She didn't't succeed and was in and out of mental hospitals most of my life. I was always aware of her issues with depression and it was hard to live with. I made it my responsibility to make it better. It never worked and I blamed myself a lot. I convinced myself that I just wasn't't good at helping people. You can't talk someone out of a mental disorder, but that's what I know now.
What I or no one else in the family realized was that bi-polar disorder displays itself in many different ways all depending on the person. It's a highway with many intersections. In my mother's case one of those outlets was Kleptomania. When I think back on being aware of her problem for the first time I remember being pregnant with my daughter and her going to the grocery store and changing the prices on certain items. You could do that back then before the computer generation took over. Technically that's not stealing, but it certainly is a form of it. From there it turned into taking things back to the store that had never came from that store. She made me feel abnormal because I didn't't have the conscience to do what she was doing. She had treated me so bad once that I had to do it. She wouldn't't take no for an answer. Right after that experience I didn't't care how mad she got I refused to ever do it again.
I could go on and on with examples of ways my mom acted dishonestly, but the bottom line is it all lead to the revelation that somewhere along the line she had turned into a Kleptomaniac. I didn't't give it that name at the time. It was just plain stealing and she needed to stop. One day she came home from the store and her van was completely full with all kinds of stuff. It's value exceeded what I knew she had and none of it was in bags. Me and my daughter carried it in. Every step of the way we knew she'd stolen it. She was very happy at the time, but then finally she sat there quietly looking sad. She vowed she'd never do it again.
It wasn't't long after that my brother got her a job where he worked. He was a janitorial supervisor and she became a janitor there dusting office cubicles. At Christmas time we all received weird gifts from her. Unique knicknacks and educational kinds of things. I wondered where she'd found these things. When I questioned her about what stores she'd shopped at she wouldn't make eye contact with me. As it turned out she'd stolen all those things from the desks of the cubicles she'd been cleaning. They were starting to notice things missing and had reviewed the camera footage. There she was stealing. My brother swore up and down she hadn't done that and even surrendered the house to the police to search. Big mistake. They found everything. They could have pressed charges on her but they fired her and took the remainder of what was left of what she'd stolen. As for my brother, he was fired. Guilt by association.
We didn't notice anymore stealing after that for quite awhile. It started happening again, at least to our knowledge, the last few years of her life. She got involved in a shoplifting ring. She made up a lot of stories about where the stuff came from but in the end she had to admit she'd stolen it. It was beyond anything she'd ever done. It was obsessive compulsive gone wild. The stuff went from the floor to the ceiling all over her apartment. You couldn't hardly walk through the front door. She would give me some of this stuff and I would leave it on the street corner.
She ended up getting caught over and over again. I would tell her to stop and she would just look at me helplessly and say she didn't know why the police wouldn't just leave her alone. I was very angry at her. They kept letting her go but finally they decided to keep her. It had went from a misdemeanor to a felony because of the value of what she'd stolen. They intended to keep her for a long while. We were all at our wits end but apparently so was Momma. Three days into her stay in jail she died of a stroke.
Since then I have left my bubble of denial behind. My momma was mentally ill and she never wanted to be. She couldn't just give it up. You can tell a cockroach to leave but that doesn't mean he's going to listen. As far as I'm concerned the Kleptomania was a bi-product of the Bi-polar disorder. If any of us had known how far the disease would end up taking her we would have intervened. None of us wanted to upset her worse but the truth is our lack of intervention and her being the victim of her own hands was her undoing.
Kleptomania is a real disease, a mental condition that will rob those afflicted with it of there freedom and they will ultimately lose the favor of their families and finally they will be past the point of loving themselves. Since my mother's death I have come to accept that she was mentally ill and there was no talking her out of it. I am able to look at who she really was and love her for that, abandoning the memory of the person that killed her in the end.
By:
onthewall
Age:
41-45
,
Female
