I went to a wake tonight. My friend's mom passed. She was a sweet lady, an eccentric and funny woman. I met her a few times, but my favorite memory of her was when they invited me to Thanksgiving one of the years I was "orphaned" for the holiday. We ate well, I made some legendary sausage and forbidden rice dish, we laughed, played epic Scrabble games and enjoyed each other.
At the wake this evening, my pal told me the story of her mom's passing. They were home, holding her hand. They made peace and it was serene. It all happened the way an idyllic passing would be.
I efforted to be there for my friend. My intention was to be there to remember her mom sweetly and relish the photos and flowers. But my mind kept jumping to something else.
I kept thinking of my own mother, abusive, mentally ill, sickly and unkind. I imagined her funeral. I pictured my sister, my father and myself at odds. None of them are speaking to me, and I wondered, "would they even tell me if she died?" Instead of being able to be supportive for my pal, I nestled up to my darkest wish, and would have preferred it was my mom in the box... and my painful existence of abuse and agony would just fucking end. I wished my mom was the one who died instead.
Yup.
There's something wrong there I know. I cannot tell you how arduous and agonizing it is to grow up with a mentally ill parent incapable of loving anything or anyone. The sickness has permeated into everything in my life. I am convinced I am unlovable and unworthy of the life I can picture but never have. I met the man who should be my soulmate, but our relationship is poisoned by my abandonment issues and constant recording in my head that I am simply.... unlovable. I mean, if my mom can't love me, who will. I cling too tightly to my child, and tell him he's loved to ensure he never feels a shred of what my last 47 years of being resented and hated by a parent could possibly feel like.
I don't want my mom to die out of malice. It's not like that at all. I know it's fucked up, but I love my abusive horrible absent mom. Why? She's my mom. I have spent most of my lifetime seeking love and approval, wanting glimmers of what kids with real moms get. So why do I pray for her to die already? I want closure, and I want this agonizing suffering to end. You see, if she is dead, then that can be the excuse why she has abandoned me. I don't have to want a relationship that will never happen. I don't have to dream of some lightbulb moment she is never going to have. She isn't capable now. My mother will be unable to abuse me if she's gone. She will be out of her depression and her misery. She will hopefully finally be at peace, something she has never experienced for as long as I've been alive. I can stop wondering why I don't have a 'normal' family or parents who love me. I can say, it's because she's dead.
Triggers triggers triggers.
I remember that Thanksgiving at my friend's house. I remember how it felt to sit at a table with her, her sister and her mom who was sweet, and nice and loving towards the girls. I remember thinking how lucky they are to have a mom who is caring, and open to inviting a stranger to the table. I get mom envy quite easily, to be quite honest. I try to remember that I deserve to have come into this world to the loving arms of a good mommy. Often I find myself saying over and over in my head that it's ok, I just got dealt a shitty hand. This woman may have not been the perfect mom or the best mom, but she was a loving mom and that seems like a luxury. It shouldn't be, right? It should be a given, your mom loves you unconditionally.
My mother has never loved me. Hell, she doesn't like me. And as she has said for 47 years... she wished I had never been born.
Tonight I sat in a chair in the funeral home, looking at the casket, the flowers, the people hugging and chatting. I imagined the full life this woman lived, and prayed that my pal knows that even though her home life was far from ideal, at least she had a mom who loved her. One shouldn't have to be grateful their parents love them, but when you are me... it's a fantasy not a reality.
I've come to accept that my mom did the best she could with what she had; she was hindered greatly by depression and mental illness and drug addiction. She still is, if she is in fact still alive. I have forgiven my mom so many times, over and over practiced forgiveness, acceptance and all that crap you do on a cushion, on a couch, in a group, at that retreat, and by her side in the hospital after her big stroke. Despite the acceptance and forgiveness, the scars and wounds of her mistreatment of me linger and loiter. I can handle it most days, but today is one of the days I am giving myself permission to break down and just feel like utter crap about it.
Showing posts with label abuse. Show all posts
Showing posts with label abuse. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 23, 2016
Sunday, April 20, 2014
divorcing my mom (working title)
I think most daughters have challenges in their relationship with their mom. It's probably also true that most people struggle to identify and connect with their parents. We all have things about growing up we wish we could change.
... and for a long time, I thought my life at home was just those things. My parents taught me I was a difficult child. My mother wished I had never been born, and scolded me and hit me for so many things I lost track of all the wrongs I committed from when I was very young to the very present.
I don't know how many times I've said sorry but not really understood why, or felt I had to appease my mother because I'm so 'bad'.
The reality is, I grew up with a mom who is mentally ill. Her sadness, depression and narcissism corroded anything good we could have had.. and now as a septuagenarian who's recovering from a stroke, it all seems different. Worse, because I am made to feel obligated to accept her vitriol and apologize to her for her pain.
I keep kissing her ass, spending money I don't have on gifts, dinners and events, telling her she is beautiful and that I love her.... even though my words are met with, "You're fat" "I can't stand you" "Get out of my sight" "I prefer to surround myself with beautiful people, that makes me feel better. I wish you'd get out of my sight because you're so hideous" "I'm embarrassed for my neighbors to set eyes on you" "You're ugly" "No one can stand you" ... sigh, or far more damaging words like, "I love your son the way I could never love you" or yesterday's, "No Elissa, I've never liked you and I never will," when I went to visit her with my son despite my preference not to.
Somehow, I believed her to be right so many times, I can't see anything else in the mirror but the hideous worthless monster she always says I am.
She broke her wrist mysteriously over a week ago, and refused to get treatment. On the phone she'd call me and say it was my fault for annoying her so much, that somehow from 130 miles away, I broke her wrist and caused her that pain.
When my mom had her stroke two years ago, I was the first on the scene. With my child under one arm and my phone in the other hand, I was juggling calls, speaking with doctors, ensuring she'd live and be safe. I was the one who contacted my sister and father and made the initial arrangements to get my mother to the ER and to safety. I made the tough calls, and did my best.
My mother was immobile ... and I stayed by her side, cleaned her, fed her and took care of her. Even in this fragile state, so close to the possibility of death, I had to sit there and take her vitriol as though I deserved it. Despite everything, I held her hand, made sure she ate, told her I loved her and did my best to give her whatever comfort she needed. My son missed months of school, my job went south, I was unable to keep up my life and gave it up (again) to care for her.
It was during that time that I found her will where it was explicitly stated that I was to get nothing, that I was a 'threat' and a 'danger' to her. Despite the fact that I cleaned her like a baby because she kept soiling herself and demanded she be cared for by the nurses, that I was ALWAYS the one to be there to get her to emergency rooms, nurse her after surgery and do my best to help her through one illness or another... I was a threat. She had blogs and stories I had written over the years stapled to the document proving that my expressing my challenged relationship with her made me a horrible person and she was afraid for her life because I was writing such things.
(I'm pretty sure this blog will be the last nail in that disowned coffin)
You see, up until my mom's stroke, I really thought that I was a really bad person. She had me believing I really was a challenging child to raise, and a difficult person to love. Her abuse seemed justified and I somehow thought that I was truly unlovable. This sort of scarred view of myself, this repugnant picture created for me ... has made it difficult for me to accept love the way I deserve, or realize that I'm not really the things she says.
My mom is depressed and mentally ill. But as a kid, I thought this was just how moms who have difficult children behave. That all of her upset was on me, I made her unhappy. I never really understood or could realize that this had nothing to do with me. I was forced to go to therapy as a kid, and I hated it. Each therapist wanted to 'dig deep' and figure out why I was such a horrible kid. They tried to medicate me, scold me and treat me as though I were this miscreant they should all find a way to tame.
All this time I was put into programs, boarding school, therapy... my mom was the one who really needed to do lay down on the couch.
To be clear, around the time of my mom's stroke, I had a major life changing lightbulb moment. When I came to the realization that she was clinically depressed and that she was really very sick, I was able to see that she did the best she could and that she didn't have the capacity to be the mom because she was so damaged. I made a conscious decision to break the fetters of my constant pain by practicing acceptance and forgiveness. It was an unbelievable breakthrough, to see my mother for the broken bird she is and be able to love her despite her inability to love me.
This forgiveness hasn't changed. I rationally know that she did the best she could, and that was incapable of giving me the mother's love I craved and needed my whole life.
To be clear, no matter what has happened, I've always and still do Love my mother unconditionally. Even now, in this moment of excruciating pain, I still see her as this beautiful woman and love her with this desire that she'd one day approve of me and love me back.
I've been told many times that I deserved to have a mom who loves me unconditionally... but I got a bum hand. That it is ok to feel like this bad deal hurts and to wish I had more parental love in my life. It's why I over compensate with my own son, treating him with extra love, hugging him so much it can drive him bonkers, telling him all day long I love him and that he is awesome just the way he is. I get to love my son the way my mother never loved me, or something twisted like that.
In a dharma talk I heard at the beginning of my buddhist journey, the teacher talked about boundaries and taught me that they are necessary for our own survival. I've gone extended periods of time not talking to my mom, or reluctantly screened a call from time to time to preserve a moment that is happy. Right now, I'm going to create a different kind of boundary. I'm divorcing my mom. It's not out of hate, because I love my mother so much. That may seem inane but... I'm a kid who wants my mother's approval. I'm that kid who goes out of her way so much to obtain my mom's attention that I'll do anything for it, even if those choices have been unhealthy. I wasn't difficult, I was a child starving for affection and love from a women incapable of loving me. This quest has been very damaging to me, and it's time to stop searching for the holy grail of love and approval from the person who is supposed to love me ... It's time to end the pain of the seeking, and to break out of the prison of this pain.
I'm divorcing my mom. It's not out of hate or spite ... but more like self preservation. As my 45th birthday approaches, I need to reevaluate what my life looks like and the life I want to have. I can't go another day craving love from a person who has chosen to resent me for being born. It's unhealthy for my well-being to be blamed for every horrible happenstance even when I'm over a 100 miles away. I can't keep looking in the mirror and hating the person I see because the tape I keep playing over and over is my mother's voice telling me I'm hideous.
On a holiday morning where everyone is having a dreamy breakfast, filled with laughter and fun, I'm realizing that I need to break free of the relationship that causes me the most harm... to preserve myself, I have to divorce my mother.
At this moment, I am mourning the potential to have a good relationship with my mother because any sort of spark or belief that my mom would be a 'mother' to me is a fantasy as fantastic as a furry creature leaving me gobs of chocolate in colored eggs today.
... and for a long time, I thought my life at home was just those things. My parents taught me I was a difficult child. My mother wished I had never been born, and scolded me and hit me for so many things I lost track of all the wrongs I committed from when I was very young to the very present.
I don't know how many times I've said sorry but not really understood why, or felt I had to appease my mother because I'm so 'bad'.
The reality is, I grew up with a mom who is mentally ill. Her sadness, depression and narcissism corroded anything good we could have had.. and now as a septuagenarian who's recovering from a stroke, it all seems different. Worse, because I am made to feel obligated to accept her vitriol and apologize to her for her pain.
I keep kissing her ass, spending money I don't have on gifts, dinners and events, telling her she is beautiful and that I love her.... even though my words are met with, "You're fat" "I can't stand you" "Get out of my sight" "I prefer to surround myself with beautiful people, that makes me feel better. I wish you'd get out of my sight because you're so hideous" "I'm embarrassed for my neighbors to set eyes on you" "You're ugly" "No one can stand you" ... sigh, or far more damaging words like, "I love your son the way I could never love you" or yesterday's, "No Elissa, I've never liked you and I never will," when I went to visit her with my son despite my preference not to.
Somehow, I believed her to be right so many times, I can't see anything else in the mirror but the hideous worthless monster she always says I am.
She broke her wrist mysteriously over a week ago, and refused to get treatment. On the phone she'd call me and say it was my fault for annoying her so much, that somehow from 130 miles away, I broke her wrist and caused her that pain.
When my mom had her stroke two years ago, I was the first on the scene. With my child under one arm and my phone in the other hand, I was juggling calls, speaking with doctors, ensuring she'd live and be safe. I was the one who contacted my sister and father and made the initial arrangements to get my mother to the ER and to safety. I made the tough calls, and did my best.
My mother was immobile ... and I stayed by her side, cleaned her, fed her and took care of her. Even in this fragile state, so close to the possibility of death, I had to sit there and take her vitriol as though I deserved it. Despite everything, I held her hand, made sure she ate, told her I loved her and did my best to give her whatever comfort she needed. My son missed months of school, my job went south, I was unable to keep up my life and gave it up (again) to care for her.
It was during that time that I found her will where it was explicitly stated that I was to get nothing, that I was a 'threat' and a 'danger' to her. Despite the fact that I cleaned her like a baby because she kept soiling herself and demanded she be cared for by the nurses, that I was ALWAYS the one to be there to get her to emergency rooms, nurse her after surgery and do my best to help her through one illness or another... I was a threat. She had blogs and stories I had written over the years stapled to the document proving that my expressing my challenged relationship with her made me a horrible person and she was afraid for her life because I was writing such things.
(I'm pretty sure this blog will be the last nail in that disowned coffin)
You see, up until my mom's stroke, I really thought that I was a really bad person. She had me believing I really was a challenging child to raise, and a difficult person to love. Her abuse seemed justified and I somehow thought that I was truly unlovable. This sort of scarred view of myself, this repugnant picture created for me ... has made it difficult for me to accept love the way I deserve, or realize that I'm not really the things she says.
My mom is depressed and mentally ill. But as a kid, I thought this was just how moms who have difficult children behave. That all of her upset was on me, I made her unhappy. I never really understood or could realize that this had nothing to do with me. I was forced to go to therapy as a kid, and I hated it. Each therapist wanted to 'dig deep' and figure out why I was such a horrible kid. They tried to medicate me, scold me and treat me as though I were this miscreant they should all find a way to tame.
All this time I was put into programs, boarding school, therapy... my mom was the one who really needed to do lay down on the couch.
To be clear, around the time of my mom's stroke, I had a major life changing lightbulb moment. When I came to the realization that she was clinically depressed and that she was really very sick, I was able to see that she did the best she could and that she didn't have the capacity to be the mom because she was so damaged. I made a conscious decision to break the fetters of my constant pain by practicing acceptance and forgiveness. It was an unbelievable breakthrough, to see my mother for the broken bird she is and be able to love her despite her inability to love me.
This forgiveness hasn't changed. I rationally know that she did the best she could, and that was incapable of giving me the mother's love I craved and needed my whole life.
To be clear, no matter what has happened, I've always and still do Love my mother unconditionally. Even now, in this moment of excruciating pain, I still see her as this beautiful woman and love her with this desire that she'd one day approve of me and love me back.
I've been told many times that I deserved to have a mom who loves me unconditionally... but I got a bum hand. That it is ok to feel like this bad deal hurts and to wish I had more parental love in my life. It's why I over compensate with my own son, treating him with extra love, hugging him so much it can drive him bonkers, telling him all day long I love him and that he is awesome just the way he is. I get to love my son the way my mother never loved me, or something twisted like that.
In a dharma talk I heard at the beginning of my buddhist journey, the teacher talked about boundaries and taught me that they are necessary for our own survival. I've gone extended periods of time not talking to my mom, or reluctantly screened a call from time to time to preserve a moment that is happy. Right now, I'm going to create a different kind of boundary. I'm divorcing my mom. It's not out of hate, because I love my mother so much. That may seem inane but... I'm a kid who wants my mother's approval. I'm that kid who goes out of her way so much to obtain my mom's attention that I'll do anything for it, even if those choices have been unhealthy. I wasn't difficult, I was a child starving for affection and love from a women incapable of loving me. This quest has been very damaging to me, and it's time to stop searching for the holy grail of love and approval from the person who is supposed to love me ... It's time to end the pain of the seeking, and to break out of the prison of this pain.
I'm divorcing my mom. It's not out of hate or spite ... but more like self preservation. As my 45th birthday approaches, I need to reevaluate what my life looks like and the life I want to have. I can't go another day craving love from a person who has chosen to resent me for being born. It's unhealthy for my well-being to be blamed for every horrible happenstance even when I'm over a 100 miles away. I can't keep looking in the mirror and hating the person I see because the tape I keep playing over and over is my mother's voice telling me I'm hideous.
On a holiday morning where everyone is having a dreamy breakfast, filled with laughter and fun, I'm realizing that I need to break free of the relationship that causes me the most harm... to preserve myself, I have to divorce my mother.
At this moment, I am mourning the potential to have a good relationship with my mother because any sort of spark or belief that my mom would be a 'mother' to me is a fantasy as fantastic as a furry creature leaving me gobs of chocolate in colored eggs today.
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