I know that I hold the key. It is not up to my mom to set me free. It is not up to my aunt or my dad. My friends and husband try, but I have to find it inside of myself. I will admit that it helps that my friends and husband see something that I don't always see. They see a black and whiteness to it that I only see intermittently.
Those days when it is clear, feel like freedom. They feel like sunshine through a window. I can tell on those days that I hold the key. I have a degree of peace knowing that it is there, but also some fear about whether I will keep dropping it over and over. How long before I know how to hold on to it. How long before I will set myself free?
When it is not clear, I think of her eyes. I think of how much she must be hurting. I think of how much she has been hurt to be the way she is now. And I think about how she doesn't understand how I could do this and how much I have broken my own mother's heart. Inside of those moments, those days, she has me. I am back in the guilt of it all. I am feeling responsible for her. I am questioning if I just didn't handle things better and failed her.
And maybe that is okay that she has me at those times. It probably can't be any other way if you are to grieve and heal properly. If I were to be able to walk away without looking back, I think I would be headed for trouble. If I were to be able to instantly know how to not feel things that I have felt for so many years, I would hold the great secret to life.
And so I need to surrender. This year is coming to it's close soon and I will enter the new year with that word in my heart. Surrender. To the grief. To the sadness. To her eyes. To my pain. Eventually and intermittently on my way, I will surrender to those beautiful moments of sweet relief and happiness.
Wednesday 23 December 2015
Thursday 10 December 2015
This World Was Made for Dreaming
What I want most as a mother is to never forget that this world was made for dreaming. That a child should wake up to this feeling and that it is my job to sing this right into her heart.
These days, my life is splitting away. Away from the comfort of what I know. Even with all of the trouble, even with all of the pain, my mother was still comfort. She is my mother. I can't think of many more powerful words than 'mother'. I am grieving for the loss of that comfort. Grieving her losses as well. It brings with it so many things that are so uncomfortable and feel so raw. I want it back so badly.
But then I sit in the morning and feel the peace of that morning sun coming up. I feel the space around me, the space a friend described to me recently as a new thing she is seeing. Despite all I am feeling, she sees a light in me. She told me that it's like I'm dope sick. That I'm feeling awful, but getting clean. I now understand why people go back to things that are not good for them. The good things have them believing so deeply in their heart that the bad parts are worth it, all for just a taste of the good.
And so, that song just keeps playing and each morning I let myself hear it sung to me. To the child I was. I give that child a chance to just hear it and know. That morning sun was for me too. This world was made for dreaming, this world was made for me too.
And then my daughter wakes, and in my heart, I have even more room to sing it to her. And I know that she feels the sunshine of my love for her. And I know that I can't go back. No matter how badly I want those mornings with my own mother, all those ones that were good.
Friday 4 December 2015
Tiny Jolts
The reality of it hits me intensely some days. It feels like blades in my stomach. My heart seems to stop for slight moments, tiny jolts. The last few days have been hard.. I don't feel that the decision is wrong, it just feels awful. The guilt and empathy for what my mom is going through is rivalling the relief of being safe from her contact. All of that, and I still feel angry to top it all off, ugh. What a mess of emotions. I feel angry that even though she abused me, even though she isolated people away from me, even though she has shamed me my whole life whenever it pleased her, and even though it all had lasting effects on me that I am still now trying to sort through, I still feel like I am the one doing wrong by closing the door to any more of it.
I wish so much that she could stop being a destructive force in my life or that I could grow the ability to let it all roll off. I have wished for the ability to let it roll off for so many years. Sometimes I succeed. The problem is, I can let it roll off at first, and then it doesn't let up and eventually I just can't anymore. If she doesn't get what she wants, she takes it up notch by notch until she has engaged a reaction and then continues even still until that reaction turns into awful fights between us. She just can't let go of whatever she wants from me. Not if I reason, beg, negotiate - nothing works. It has gotten so twisted and sick sometimes, I just need it to stop. Not for a few months. Not even for a year. I think I need years before I could handle it with a thicker skin. I need to begin healing and not keep ripping a scab off just as it begins to form..
I have begun to realize that all of the years that I wished for the ability to let it roll off was not the best wish. It wasn't a co-worker who didn't like my outfit or a rude salesperson who was upsetting me. It was a parent who abused their power. A parent who bullied me and made me feel like I was not enough. Who tried to shame me into being what she wanted. An abusive cycle that continued into my adult years, the guilt, shame and punishment she bestows until we end up in total destruction. I don't want to be someone who can let that kind of abuse be okay in my life.
The other side of her is beautiful. A caring, wonderful woman who would do anything for anyone. A proud mother who celebrates the things she loves about her kids. It's why I never thought I was allowed to close the door on her, even though the abusive side of her didn't ever stop resurfacing long. She is a good person. She doesn't mean to be this way. I have come to realize that someone who is abusive is not a bad person. Nobody means to be an abuser. They are people who have been deeply wounded themselves who are doing the best they can. She always has said this to me. I did the best I could. I believe that.
Her best is still too hard to bear, at least for me.. which is heartbreaking. For me and for her. At this point I truly don't believe I can keep my mom in my life and protect my daughter from the dysfunction of that relationship. I do hope that one day I can have my mom in my life and my family's life. If one day, distance could create the boundary she seems capable of with with other people. I want that so badly.
I understand why people worry that if they ever came forward about a family member abusing them, people won't believe them. I feel exactly that way. People see the caring wonderful person that they are and can't accept that there are other behaviour patterns that exist that they aren't seeing. Maybe they know there are issues, but they think it’s limited to her depression. They don't see the darkest side. That side is a secret that is well guarded. I'm so painfully aware of that and have always operated under the pressure of that secret. I once tried to share some of it with a family member. They no longer spend time around me. They felt that they were betraying her or upsetting her by having a relationship with me independent of my mom. The stuff I shared didn't result in support from them, it feels almost like it just made them feel uncomfortable to hear it and they don't want to be disloyal by supporting me. It hurts that the only person in the extended family I have ever opened up to didn't stand by me.
A friend recently pointed out to me that for years I have told her that "when things are good, she's amazing". She said I have talked like a battered wife for years. I truly understand why abusive relationships go on for so many years. The good times make you feel like you owe it to them to stick it out. In cases where the pressure to keep them happy is enough, you feel like if you were to leave, they might kill themselves. You don't think they will let you leave without more destruction than staying causes. You know they struggle with mental health issues and that makes you feel insensitive to not be willing to just accept the abuse. You know that some of the people you care about the most don't believe you have the right to leave. That one is so hard for me.
I need to focus on what I do have. I have such a strong little support network of people who do not accept my mom's behaviour as acceptable just because she is my mom. People who are rallying around me to support me and encourage me that what I am doing is not wrong or crazy. I am so grateful for this. I am also grateful to have found a wonderful source of support and validation through an amazing woman's YouTube channel dealing with similar issues. I don't think I could have handled this decision at all if it were not for hearing her experiences, warmth and complete understanding about the struggles of having a mother with issues like my moms and the difficult decision to not be in her life. Hearing her story was the first time I ever realized that I am not the only one, and that I can hopefully find peace. https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCmgr8VRf_N60ohSmSByL40A.
I wish so much that she could stop being a destructive force in my life or that I could grow the ability to let it all roll off. I have wished for the ability to let it roll off for so many years. Sometimes I succeed. The problem is, I can let it roll off at first, and then it doesn't let up and eventually I just can't anymore. If she doesn't get what she wants, she takes it up notch by notch until she has engaged a reaction and then continues even still until that reaction turns into awful fights between us. She just can't let go of whatever she wants from me. Not if I reason, beg, negotiate - nothing works. It has gotten so twisted and sick sometimes, I just need it to stop. Not for a few months. Not even for a year. I think I need years before I could handle it with a thicker skin. I need to begin healing and not keep ripping a scab off just as it begins to form..
I have begun to realize that all of the years that I wished for the ability to let it roll off was not the best wish. It wasn't a co-worker who didn't like my outfit or a rude salesperson who was upsetting me. It was a parent who abused their power. A parent who bullied me and made me feel like I was not enough. Who tried to shame me into being what she wanted. An abusive cycle that continued into my adult years, the guilt, shame and punishment she bestows until we end up in total destruction. I don't want to be someone who can let that kind of abuse be okay in my life.
The other side of her is beautiful. A caring, wonderful woman who would do anything for anyone. A proud mother who celebrates the things she loves about her kids. It's why I never thought I was allowed to close the door on her, even though the abusive side of her didn't ever stop resurfacing long. She is a good person. She doesn't mean to be this way. I have come to realize that someone who is abusive is not a bad person. Nobody means to be an abuser. They are people who have been deeply wounded themselves who are doing the best they can. She always has said this to me. I did the best I could. I believe that.
Her best is still too hard to bear, at least for me.. which is heartbreaking. For me and for her. At this point I truly don't believe I can keep my mom in my life and protect my daughter from the dysfunction of that relationship. I do hope that one day I can have my mom in my life and my family's life. If one day, distance could create the boundary she seems capable of with with other people. I want that so badly.
I understand why people worry that if they ever came forward about a family member abusing them, people won't believe them. I feel exactly that way. People see the caring wonderful person that they are and can't accept that there are other behaviour patterns that exist that they aren't seeing. Maybe they know there are issues, but they think it’s limited to her depression. They don't see the darkest side. That side is a secret that is well guarded. I'm so painfully aware of that and have always operated under the pressure of that secret. I once tried to share some of it with a family member. They no longer spend time around me. They felt that they were betraying her or upsetting her by having a relationship with me independent of my mom. The stuff I shared didn't result in support from them, it feels almost like it just made them feel uncomfortable to hear it and they don't want to be disloyal by supporting me. It hurts that the only person in the extended family I have ever opened up to didn't stand by me.
A friend recently pointed out to me that for years I have told her that "when things are good, she's amazing". She said I have talked like a battered wife for years. I truly understand why abusive relationships go on for so many years. The good times make you feel like you owe it to them to stick it out. In cases where the pressure to keep them happy is enough, you feel like if you were to leave, they might kill themselves. You don't think they will let you leave without more destruction than staying causes. You know they struggle with mental health issues and that makes you feel insensitive to not be willing to just accept the abuse. You know that some of the people you care about the most don't believe you have the right to leave. That one is so hard for me.
I need to focus on what I do have. I have such a strong little support network of people who do not accept my mom's behaviour as acceptable just because she is my mom. People who are rallying around me to support me and encourage me that what I am doing is not wrong or crazy. I am so grateful for this. I am also grateful to have found a wonderful source of support and validation through an amazing woman's YouTube channel dealing with similar issues. I don't think I could have handled this decision at all if it were not for hearing her experiences, warmth and complete understanding about the struggles of having a mother with issues like my moms and the difficult decision to not be in her life. Hearing her story was the first time I ever realized that I am not the only one, and that I can hopefully find peace. https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCmgr8VRf_N60ohSmSByL40A.
Monday 30 November 2015
Oh, The Pain, it Comes..
I can see this will be a process. I can see there will be more pain. It's behind little doors you don't realize are there until they are opened.
Today I was asking a colleague how her bathroom renovation is going. She and I both have basement showers that are rotting out. She has been gutting the tub and surround herself, which is exactly what I plan to do with ours in the coming months. As she told me about how it was all going, she kept mentioning her dad. The guidance she was getting from him. How much he wanted to help and would do it all for her if she would let him. A shot of pain ran through me, without warning. My dad will never help me with a renovation again. He won't even call to see how I'm doing.. If I am not willing to allow my abusive mother to continue to wreak havoc and create chaos in my life, I don't get to have a dad either. If feels unfair. It feels twisted.
I always believed that I had to put up with whatever she dished out. That I wasn't allowed to have my own life. That I wasn't allowed peace as long as she had a say in my life. What I am realizing now, is that I was completely right. I wasn't allowed those things. Not if I wanted to have a father. Not if I cared if people think I am a good person. Not if I wasn't ready to orphan myself. No @#$%# wonder I didn't think there was a way out. The way out took me 38 years to accept, because the way out was unthinkable. And now, the unthinkable is so much healthier than all of the fights and chaos ahead if I stay in her life. Knowing that one of the hardest things you can possibly do has become the best option you have makes you realize how deeply dysfunctional it has all been. How long I thought her happiness was more important than my own and that I owed it to her to let her cause destruction, anger and fear in my heart. How much I felt responsible for her and her happiness. And most certainly for her unhappiness. So many years of living in guilt, fear, anger. She actually brought gifts after fights. Just like an abusive husband or boyfriend might. Sometimes I have wished that her abuse was physical so that people wouldn't think I was responsible to keep taking it. So that they could see it. She would never, ever show that awful side of herself around others. Only me, my dad and my brother got that side of her. If her abuse resulted in black eyes, maybe I would have gotten out long ago. Maybe her own wounds wouldn't be an acceptable reason to harm me. Maybe as a child when I tried to reach out for help and she put a swift end to that, the school would have kept on digging. Maybe she herself would have seen what she was doing. Maybe others would have understood why I was so defensive around her, rather than thinking I was the problem for flinching so much and growing defensive.
If it wasn't for having a daughter of my own, I don't think I would have ever seen leaving as an option. My daughter now has to come before my mother. I have one chance to be the best mother I can be. One chance to not spend weeks every couple of months torn up over fights that only ever have and only ever will go in destructive circles. I am very, very grateful to finally have the clarity to know that I cannot allow that relationship if I want the cycle to stop.
Today I was asking a colleague how her bathroom renovation is going. She and I both have basement showers that are rotting out. She has been gutting the tub and surround herself, which is exactly what I plan to do with ours in the coming months. As she told me about how it was all going, she kept mentioning her dad. The guidance she was getting from him. How much he wanted to help and would do it all for her if she would let him. A shot of pain ran through me, without warning. My dad will never help me with a renovation again. He won't even call to see how I'm doing.. If I am not willing to allow my abusive mother to continue to wreak havoc and create chaos in my life, I don't get to have a dad either. If feels unfair. It feels twisted.
I always believed that I had to put up with whatever she dished out. That I wasn't allowed to have my own life. That I wasn't allowed peace as long as she had a say in my life. What I am realizing now, is that I was completely right. I wasn't allowed those things. Not if I wanted to have a father. Not if I cared if people think I am a good person. Not if I wasn't ready to orphan myself. No @#$%# wonder I didn't think there was a way out. The way out took me 38 years to accept, because the way out was unthinkable. And now, the unthinkable is so much healthier than all of the fights and chaos ahead if I stay in her life. Knowing that one of the hardest things you can possibly do has become the best option you have makes you realize how deeply dysfunctional it has all been. How long I thought her happiness was more important than my own and that I owed it to her to let her cause destruction, anger and fear in my heart. How much I felt responsible for her and her happiness. And most certainly for her unhappiness. So many years of living in guilt, fear, anger. She actually brought gifts after fights. Just like an abusive husband or boyfriend might. Sometimes I have wished that her abuse was physical so that people wouldn't think I was responsible to keep taking it. So that they could see it. She would never, ever show that awful side of herself around others. Only me, my dad and my brother got that side of her. If her abuse resulted in black eyes, maybe I would have gotten out long ago. Maybe her own wounds wouldn't be an acceptable reason to harm me. Maybe as a child when I tried to reach out for help and she put a swift end to that, the school would have kept on digging. Maybe she herself would have seen what she was doing. Maybe others would have understood why I was so defensive around her, rather than thinking I was the problem for flinching so much and growing defensive.
If it wasn't for having a daughter of my own, I don't think I would have ever seen leaving as an option. My daughter now has to come before my mother. I have one chance to be the best mother I can be. One chance to not spend weeks every couple of months torn up over fights that only ever have and only ever will go in destructive circles. I am very, very grateful to finally have the clarity to know that I cannot allow that relationship if I want the cycle to stop.
Sunday 29 November 2015
Dance Like No One's Watching
The sky was an intense blue today. The air was so refreshing it made me never want to go back inside. I played outside with my daughter like I was a child again myself. We took turns on the slide, played on the swings, had snow fights and collapsed in the snow happy and laughing. We laughed so hard and it felt SO GOOD!! I have been too stressed to be present with her for too much of the time these days. Too stressed to really truly play. I make the effort always to try to play with her and give her my all, but it just not the same when something is weighing so heavy on the inside. Lugging all of that heaviness around was taking all of the energy that I should have been spending on her and my husband. This week, there has been a lightness. A return to easy smiles and laughter. Rather than just getting through the day, I have been making the most of the day. We are eating better, getting more fresh air, having more fun, exercising more. We are living life.
Sometimes it's hard to see how dark it was until you walk away.
Peace and Sleepless Nights
It's been a week since I let my mom know that I would not be in touch. I said 'for now' but I know it is for longer than that implies. We may never be in each others lives again. That is a very tough reality.
Immediately upon blocking contact, I felt peace.. relief.. safety.. I can check my emails at the office without bracing myself. I don't tense up when my phone rings or a text comes in. I don't dread hearing what her voicemail will say. I don't ride the wave of her pride and disappointment, her love and resentment, her good intentions and her inability to see when she is being spiteful and hurting me and my family. I have felt my anxiety begin to calm. Things that used to stress me, suddenly I can let go of more easily. Things that had nothing to do with her in the first place. That has been the most surprising thing that has happened. I had no idea how many areas of my life that toxic relationship was affecting. I feel like a more gentle person. I have more patience. Things that used to take up my energy now roll off my back more easily. It is amazing to me. I feel a freedom I haven't felt in years. At this moment, her scrutiny doesn't affect me anywhere near as much as it has for years. Over time, as I heal, I hope these improvements to my own state of mind continue to improve.
The other thing that I didn't foresee was the amount of support I had in my decision. I have a small group of amazing friends (including my husband) who would probably throw an intervention for me if I were to waffle in my decision to keep her out of my life at this point. Thank goodness for them because it seems almost crazy to actually cut ties with your own mother and for years I have felt trapped because I didn't see it as an option. I thought the guilt of doing that would do as much harm as the relationship itself does. I am amazed at the sense of relief I feel.
And that brings me to the sleepless nights. As much as I feel relieved, I also do struggle with the guilt. My husband and I took our daughter to the Santa Clause parade yesterday and the whole time, I had a heavy heart for her. Those things meant the world to her. Last year it was her there with my daughter and I. I knew she would be at home feeling heartbroken that she wasn't at the parade seeing her granddaughters face light up with excitement.
I don't sleep through the night most nights. What I am struggling with is two things mainly. Knowing that my aunt (who has been a big part of my life always up until the last couple of years) likely feels that I have betrayed my mom in an unforgivable way and knowing that my mom is likely very very unhappy. I think I am beginning to accept my mom's unhappiness, but it is still hard. She has been unhappy my whole life. I always wanted to make it better and the hard part is accepting that no matter what I do, I never will. There is a part of me (like at the parade last night) that still feels like it is my job to give her at least happy moments amid the depression. It's hard to accept that I will no longer bring her any joy, and in fact, am doing quite the opposite in choosing to put my own health before her.
I know that there is a day in the not so distant future where I will need to tell her that 'for now' is a much longer timeframe than she likely is thinking it is. That looms over me a bit, but for now I so badly need a break from the stress that relationship brings into my life that I am just allowing myself to be home-free. I keep picturing myself on my childhood next door neighbour's front step, which was where we ran to when we wanted a minute out of the game when playing tag. It feels so healthy to not be in contact with her, I just need to preserve this feeling a little longer..
November 19, 2015
Thursday, November 19, 2015
I don't know how to and I don't know how not to
The concept of leaving a parent is so complex and painful, it is hard to put to words what I am feeling. It feels terrifying to leave and it feels terrifying to stay. Either way, it is heart wrenching. I am just beginning to understand and accept why the relationship cannot continue, and still I am trapped in a state of intermittent fear, panic, guilt and worry. I have felt for my whole life that I am responsible for her. I didn't speak to her of childhood emotional abuse until I had a child myself. I was worried she couldn't handle accountability. I have worried my whole life she would kill herself. When I left home, I really left. I split away from her. I wrote in more journals than I could count. I allowed myself peace, travel, love, self acceptance. I relished in the safety of living away from her. I loved that nobody ever woke me up yelling and slamming things around. Nobody ever shamed me for who I was in my own home. Nobody made me feel like I was not enough. She still called, but she didn't ever come over and I rarely went there. We had some rough times despite the distance, but compared to living under her roof, I felt free. Over the years, I do remember some terrible conversations. I remember begging her on the phone to let me live my life. To support me rather than tear me down and criticize me. I begged for her acceptance. Those times were consistent enough to keep my guard up high enough to keep a healthy distance. Our relationship remained fairly superficial for years. She knew as little as I could possibly share about my life. Interestingly, I don't think she ever realized that, and that was probably why it worked. In my late twenties and early thirties, I felt a change. I felt almost accepted. Not completely, but almost. She had always been proud of me, but that pride was always rivalled by some very big disappointment in all the ways I was not who she wanted me to be. But suddenly those disappointments seemed to fall away and what was left was a proud mother. She liked how I looked all grown up and no longer 'embarrassed' her by looking like a hippie, she liked that I was experiencing success in my career. I was able to do things that I had always wanted to do for her. She loved me extra. I met my husband and began a relationship with someone who fit her approval. She was thrilled. I still was careful what I told her, but bit by bit, I began to let her in. I began to look to her for support - something I really had never done for as long as I have a memory.
What happened to change all of that is like a perfect storm. The first thing that happened to disrupt our brief lapse from the destruction was that my grandmother passed away. That loss coupled with my mom retiring left her in a bad place. I did my best to be supportive, but the loss was so huge for her that there was nothing I could really do. She was like a deep, deep, dark hole. Nothing I did could ever hope to fill it. Months and months after my grandma's passing, nothing improved. She would call and tell me she was sleeping all day. If I couldn't give her what she wanted, if I couldn't give her something in my life to keep her busy, she would tell me that she would just go back to sleep. She would just take another pill. If I couldn't give her a job to do at my house or have her over, or go somewhere with her, she made me feel guilty. I am sure she was not aware that she was doing it, but it felt clear to me - her grief was mine to fix. I had no idea how to fix it. I asked her to get some help. I encouraged her to get a part time job, volunteer, focus on a hobby. She did not want any of that. I was her hobby.
Next, my brother betrayed my husband and I. Without getting into all the details, I will just say that it had been coming for years, there was a lot of resentment behind it and I don't believe it will ever be fixed. My mom could not accept that my brother and I were no longer speaking. I tried tirelessly to explain how important it was for her to let us feel what we were all feeling. To stop pushing because betrayals like that take a long time to heal, and even longer with no apology from my brother, and no sign of him wanting anything to do with us, or his niece I was pregnant with. She pushed and pushed and pushed. Back came the shame. The 'how dare you be angry after all he's done for you'. The denial that what I was feeling was valid. Despite acknowledging how wrong it was, she still somehow made it at least partly my fault. She maintains to this day that I am somehow responsible. He would love to be in our lives, but we won't allow him. He has never, ever, reached out to me to make an attempt to see us. We have been very clear that we would be able to move past it if he wanted to repair things with us, but he has made no attempt. And my mom firmly believes that I am at fault for that.
The final thing that changed this was that I was pregnant with her first and only grandchild. I had no idea how powerful of a change this would cause. The hard part was that both things were going on at the same time. We discovered my brothers indiscretion while I was pregnant and it catapulted a very very negative time between her and I. I was beginning to feel the protectiveness of my child and the sinking realization that if my mom would subject me to pain and destruction, even with a child growing inside of me, there was plenty in store in the years ahead. She kept cranking it up. When she wasn't getting what she wanted from me, she began reminding me more and more often that she had tried killing herself twice and ended up in the psych ward before they adopted my brother and I. In one fight, she told me that she was molested by my uncle as a child. This was an uncle she had left me with when her and my dad went on a trip when I was 3 or 4 years old. She later tried to back peddle that, I still don't know how to process it, or what the truth is. She would tell me that my grandpa burned her with cigarettes. She took a photo of my grandma and went to her room crying that she should just go 'be with grandma'. I was pregnant and absolutely destroyed by these fights. I feel guilty to this day for what my daughter heard and felt while in my belly between my mom and I.
Since that time, there has been more and more destruction and fighting. We're coming up on 4 years of it. Things will be fine for a few months, and then something else happens. Now our issues revolve around my daughter. She is at the centre of all of it. We didn't speak for months because we wanted my aunt to watch our daughter instead of her. She was welcome to be there, but I wanted to give instructions to my aunt and have her be the person we would deal with about her care because I couldn't handle how many of my concerns my mom would disregard and how flippant she was about the things that mattered to me as a new mother. She would refuse to remove pins from the bottoms of her curtains, which were pinned to be hemmed and were in the room our daughter was always in. She just said no. "We'll watch her. We would never let her get hurt". Until I refused to bring her there, she would not remove the pins. When in an effort to stop all of the tension, stress and fights that this stuff would cause, we asked my aunt to watch her, my mom lost it. Completely lost it. She let loose on me and wouldn't let up. When one round of shame and guilt wouldn't work, she would take it to the next level and then the next level and then yet another level. She sent an email pretending to be my dad telling me that I was causing him more pain that he had felt since his mother died. I called to talk to my dad the next morning and he said, "what email?". She told me my late grandmother was disappointed. Her friends were disappointed, nobody could believe what I was "doing to her". It went on for weeks that way until I shut down every form of communication with her. I had my husband let her know that they could make arrangements to visit our daughter by having my aunt call. I wouldn't speak to my mom. She refused to see our daughter under those terms (she had already been refusing to see her if she had to go to my aunts to see her) and she allowed people to believe I was withholding her granddaughter from her. When I blocked all forms of communication with her, she began to call my husband and pass along messages through him. I eventually asked him not to relay any more. My aunt continued to help us, but my mom punished her for it too much and she finally called and said that she couldn't help us anymore.
Next, my mom ended up in the hospital. She had cellulitis on her forehead and it was a very serious case of it. I of course felt completely responsible. Despite the very disapproving looks from those closest to me who knew what I had been through, I let my mom back in. I told her she needed to be seeing a therapist, which after refusing for many years, she had finally taken that step as a result of my pulling out of her life. Things began to improve, but never for long. Every few months, it would all come back. She would go back to the issue of my brother, or somehow find something new to not accept about me and try to shame me into different choices. At one point, being desperate for a daycare solution when we needed to remove our daughter from a bad centre, she agreed to watch her 2 days a week. Looking back, I know that was a big mistake and don't understand why I didn't see that more clearly. She loved being there so much, it was taking a lot of pressure off of us and it seemed to be really improving my mom's state of mind. Even as I type this, I have the sick realization of what I was creating. Our daughter was now in charge of keeping her happy. As long as she had her to take care of and plan activities for and take photos and videos of, those two days seemed to keep her pretty happy the rest of the time too. She had what she most wanted. I had no idea how dangerous that was.
Over the time that she had our daughter for those days, I kept seeing pills being left within her reach. I addressed it over and over. I kept saying, you can't leave this stuff out and getting her to move them, and didn't even question that she would not put them back in reach as it seemed so obvious. After asking her over and over, I could see that she was rolling her eyes and acting very put out any time I asked her to move the medications, and tended to move them somewhere that was still in reach, like in a drawer instead of on the dresser at the lake. One day, I came into the kitchen when picking my daughter up, saw two containers out on the counter, in full reach of my daughter She said, they are only out because they are being refilled today. I pointed right next to them to the little container with the days of the week on them with flip top lids filled with a weeks worth of pills for her and my dad. If my daughter had ever tried the colourful little pills, she would have likely died. I was furious. I had addressed the issue of that specific pill box again and again and I couldn't believe she was leaving it out still. I opened the cupboard and saw all of their prescription meds (they both take quite a few pills - heart medications, sleeping pills, antidepressants and/or anxiety meds, etc), all of these major heavy duty meds were all on the bottom shelf of the cupboard. Our daughter goes into our cupboards at home all the time and reaches the bottom two shelves with ease. She just pulls a chair over, stands and takes stuff out. I told her that if that stuff was not moved to a place Ivy could not reach, even with the help of a chair, I would no longer bring her there. The next time I brought my daughter there, it was all still there. Bathroom medicine cabinet also full of meds. Cold medicines and gravol in pill pockets, a large container of Tylenol with the lid off, a baggy with little yellow pills, you name it. I put it all on the table and said that this is all the medication that you have been leaving in her reach. She will never be here without me again. She told me that my daughter is 'not a climber', that they 'watch her' and would never let her get hurt, that they are not a day care, that I have to 'remember that this is their home', they were just trying to do me a favour but if we don't like how they do it, we are more than welcome to put her into daycare. She said, I guess I've been doing it wrong for 40 years, with an eye roll. I couldn't believe it. I was so angry, disappointed, flabbergasted. I moved all of the medications out of reach and let them keep her that day because my daughter could see that we were fighting (also makes me feel sick that there were times she witnessed our discord with one another) and she didn't understand why she had to leave. I picked her up at the end of my workday and never took her back. Immediately, the situation that caused it was edited to be a few empty and near empty pill bottles with 'childproof' lids that were on the counter only because they were going to get them refilled. The story she told made me seem like a lunatic helicopter parent who needed to just chill out. Over the last few months, the story has evolved. Now she takes full responsibility for the fact that she and my dad didn't think that a few pill bottles in childproof containers on a second shelf of a cupboard was a big deal and that they should have moved them when I asked.
When I stopped bringing my daughter there, it all started up again. How I was breaking their hearts. How could I do this to her. Maybe she should just 'disappear' and everyone would be better off without her. She did apologize over and over. I'm sorry I ruined your life. I'm sorry I'm such a horrible person. Sandwiched between cutting remarks about how it really is all my fault and "I have apologized over and over, what more do you want?!". She refused to see my daughter for weeks, so then my dad and aunt also did not see her for that time. My aunt has only seen her once (on my daughters birthday) since this all happened and it has been two or three months. She used to see her every week. She still will only see her if invited by my mom so as not to upset my mom by having a relationship with us independent of her. I am learning that this is very common with people who have issues like my mom, but it has been hard to accept. I do finally accept it now, but it hurts. Accepting it has been one of the things that has brought me to a place where I feel that I am getting more and more ready to go no contact. I have already lost everyone I would lose by doing it.
This last round was the end for me. I can't let her back in again. I have allowed the destruction of that relationship to affect my daughter already too much in her short 3 years. I can't do it anymore. I tried pulling back and just not responding to anything negative that she would send or say. It made it worse. She ramped it up. I don't sleep when she ramps it up. I am not present for my daughter the way I would like. I am coming unraveled. I miss work, miss time with my family, go long stretches without proper sleep. My husband had to take holiday time so that I could just go away for a few days to be able to try to work through my emotions about it all away from our daughter. He has taken so much time off of work to support me through the hard times with my mom. It has to stop. He is such an amazing man, but I know that I need to take care of my marriage. There are only so many years that I can expect him to keep picking up the pieces when my mom's presence in our lives causes so much chaos and yet I continue to allow it by giving her access.
It's so hard in this day and age. Technology has made it so hard to have healthy boundaries with someone who doesn't do well with respecting boundaries. There are so many different ways she can get to me. It doesn't matter where I am, she always has access. At the park with my daughter, she can send an absolutely rotten text and take me out. Out for breakfast with my family, she can call and call over and over (literally - call, no answer, hang up , call no answer, hangup, call no answer hang up) and dampen the mood with the stress I feel when I feel hunted down like that. At work, I can refresh my email and have my whole day change. When I shut down all forms of communication with her and blocked her from contact for a short time two years ago, I felt immediately safe. I slept so well the night I did it. I had expected to be up all night feeling guilty, but I wasn't. I just felt this immediate sense of safety. I knew she couldn't get to me. I didn't have to brace myself when checking my emails. I could post on Facebook a photo of my husband and I on a date and not get grilled about who watched our daughter. Every time my phone rang, I knew it couldn't be her. I really truly felt home-free. I knew it couldn't be forever at the time. Now, I don't know. Now, I think I need that safety or I will continue to expose my daughter to something that can only damage her. I need to get myself healthy. For my husband, for my daughter and for myself.
What happened to change all of that is like a perfect storm. The first thing that happened to disrupt our brief lapse from the destruction was that my grandmother passed away. That loss coupled with my mom retiring left her in a bad place. I did my best to be supportive, but the loss was so huge for her that there was nothing I could really do. She was like a deep, deep, dark hole. Nothing I did could ever hope to fill it. Months and months after my grandma's passing, nothing improved. She would call and tell me she was sleeping all day. If I couldn't give her what she wanted, if I couldn't give her something in my life to keep her busy, she would tell me that she would just go back to sleep. She would just take another pill. If I couldn't give her a job to do at my house or have her over, or go somewhere with her, she made me feel guilty. I am sure she was not aware that she was doing it, but it felt clear to me - her grief was mine to fix. I had no idea how to fix it. I asked her to get some help. I encouraged her to get a part time job, volunteer, focus on a hobby. She did not want any of that. I was her hobby.
Next, my brother betrayed my husband and I. Without getting into all the details, I will just say that it had been coming for years, there was a lot of resentment behind it and I don't believe it will ever be fixed. My mom could not accept that my brother and I were no longer speaking. I tried tirelessly to explain how important it was for her to let us feel what we were all feeling. To stop pushing because betrayals like that take a long time to heal, and even longer with no apology from my brother, and no sign of him wanting anything to do with us, or his niece I was pregnant with. She pushed and pushed and pushed. Back came the shame. The 'how dare you be angry after all he's done for you'. The denial that what I was feeling was valid. Despite acknowledging how wrong it was, she still somehow made it at least partly my fault. She maintains to this day that I am somehow responsible. He would love to be in our lives, but we won't allow him. He has never, ever, reached out to me to make an attempt to see us. We have been very clear that we would be able to move past it if he wanted to repair things with us, but he has made no attempt. And my mom firmly believes that I am at fault for that.
The final thing that changed this was that I was pregnant with her first and only grandchild. I had no idea how powerful of a change this would cause. The hard part was that both things were going on at the same time. We discovered my brothers indiscretion while I was pregnant and it catapulted a very very negative time between her and I. I was beginning to feel the protectiveness of my child and the sinking realization that if my mom would subject me to pain and destruction, even with a child growing inside of me, there was plenty in store in the years ahead. She kept cranking it up. When she wasn't getting what she wanted from me, she began reminding me more and more often that she had tried killing herself twice and ended up in the psych ward before they adopted my brother and I. In one fight, she told me that she was molested by my uncle as a child. This was an uncle she had left me with when her and my dad went on a trip when I was 3 or 4 years old. She later tried to back peddle that, I still don't know how to process it, or what the truth is. She would tell me that my grandpa burned her with cigarettes. She took a photo of my grandma and went to her room crying that she should just go 'be with grandma'. I was pregnant and absolutely destroyed by these fights. I feel guilty to this day for what my daughter heard and felt while in my belly between my mom and I.
Since that time, there has been more and more destruction and fighting. We're coming up on 4 years of it. Things will be fine for a few months, and then something else happens. Now our issues revolve around my daughter. She is at the centre of all of it. We didn't speak for months because we wanted my aunt to watch our daughter instead of her. She was welcome to be there, but I wanted to give instructions to my aunt and have her be the person we would deal with about her care because I couldn't handle how many of my concerns my mom would disregard and how flippant she was about the things that mattered to me as a new mother. She would refuse to remove pins from the bottoms of her curtains, which were pinned to be hemmed and were in the room our daughter was always in. She just said no. "We'll watch her. We would never let her get hurt". Until I refused to bring her there, she would not remove the pins. When in an effort to stop all of the tension, stress and fights that this stuff would cause, we asked my aunt to watch her, my mom lost it. Completely lost it. She let loose on me and wouldn't let up. When one round of shame and guilt wouldn't work, she would take it to the next level and then the next level and then yet another level. She sent an email pretending to be my dad telling me that I was causing him more pain that he had felt since his mother died. I called to talk to my dad the next morning and he said, "what email?". She told me my late grandmother was disappointed. Her friends were disappointed, nobody could believe what I was "doing to her". It went on for weeks that way until I shut down every form of communication with her. I had my husband let her know that they could make arrangements to visit our daughter by having my aunt call. I wouldn't speak to my mom. She refused to see our daughter under those terms (she had already been refusing to see her if she had to go to my aunts to see her) and she allowed people to believe I was withholding her granddaughter from her. When I blocked all forms of communication with her, she began to call my husband and pass along messages through him. I eventually asked him not to relay any more. My aunt continued to help us, but my mom punished her for it too much and she finally called and said that she couldn't help us anymore.
Next, my mom ended up in the hospital. She had cellulitis on her forehead and it was a very serious case of it. I of course felt completely responsible. Despite the very disapproving looks from those closest to me who knew what I had been through, I let my mom back in. I told her she needed to be seeing a therapist, which after refusing for many years, she had finally taken that step as a result of my pulling out of her life. Things began to improve, but never for long. Every few months, it would all come back. She would go back to the issue of my brother, or somehow find something new to not accept about me and try to shame me into different choices. At one point, being desperate for a daycare solution when we needed to remove our daughter from a bad centre, she agreed to watch her 2 days a week. Looking back, I know that was a big mistake and don't understand why I didn't see that more clearly. She loved being there so much, it was taking a lot of pressure off of us and it seemed to be really improving my mom's state of mind. Even as I type this, I have the sick realization of what I was creating. Our daughter was now in charge of keeping her happy. As long as she had her to take care of and plan activities for and take photos and videos of, those two days seemed to keep her pretty happy the rest of the time too. She had what she most wanted. I had no idea how dangerous that was.
Over the time that she had our daughter for those days, I kept seeing pills being left within her reach. I addressed it over and over. I kept saying, you can't leave this stuff out and getting her to move them, and didn't even question that she would not put them back in reach as it seemed so obvious. After asking her over and over, I could see that she was rolling her eyes and acting very put out any time I asked her to move the medications, and tended to move them somewhere that was still in reach, like in a drawer instead of on the dresser at the lake. One day, I came into the kitchen when picking my daughter up, saw two containers out on the counter, in full reach of my daughter She said, they are only out because they are being refilled today. I pointed right next to them to the little container with the days of the week on them with flip top lids filled with a weeks worth of pills for her and my dad. If my daughter had ever tried the colourful little pills, she would have likely died. I was furious. I had addressed the issue of that specific pill box again and again and I couldn't believe she was leaving it out still. I opened the cupboard and saw all of their prescription meds (they both take quite a few pills - heart medications, sleeping pills, antidepressants and/or anxiety meds, etc), all of these major heavy duty meds were all on the bottom shelf of the cupboard. Our daughter goes into our cupboards at home all the time and reaches the bottom two shelves with ease. She just pulls a chair over, stands and takes stuff out. I told her that if that stuff was not moved to a place Ivy could not reach, even with the help of a chair, I would no longer bring her there. The next time I brought my daughter there, it was all still there. Bathroom medicine cabinet also full of meds. Cold medicines and gravol in pill pockets, a large container of Tylenol with the lid off, a baggy with little yellow pills, you name it. I put it all on the table and said that this is all the medication that you have been leaving in her reach. She will never be here without me again. She told me that my daughter is 'not a climber', that they 'watch her' and would never let her get hurt, that they are not a day care, that I have to 'remember that this is their home', they were just trying to do me a favour but if we don't like how they do it, we are more than welcome to put her into daycare. She said, I guess I've been doing it wrong for 40 years, with an eye roll. I couldn't believe it. I was so angry, disappointed, flabbergasted. I moved all of the medications out of reach and let them keep her that day because my daughter could see that we were fighting (also makes me feel sick that there were times she witnessed our discord with one another) and she didn't understand why she had to leave. I picked her up at the end of my workday and never took her back. Immediately, the situation that caused it was edited to be a few empty and near empty pill bottles with 'childproof' lids that were on the counter only because they were going to get them refilled. The story she told made me seem like a lunatic helicopter parent who needed to just chill out. Over the last few months, the story has evolved. Now she takes full responsibility for the fact that she and my dad didn't think that a few pill bottles in childproof containers on a second shelf of a cupboard was a big deal and that they should have moved them when I asked.
When I stopped bringing my daughter there, it all started up again. How I was breaking their hearts. How could I do this to her. Maybe she should just 'disappear' and everyone would be better off without her. She did apologize over and over. I'm sorry I ruined your life. I'm sorry I'm such a horrible person. Sandwiched between cutting remarks about how it really is all my fault and "I have apologized over and over, what more do you want?!". She refused to see my daughter for weeks, so then my dad and aunt also did not see her for that time. My aunt has only seen her once (on my daughters birthday) since this all happened and it has been two or three months. She used to see her every week. She still will only see her if invited by my mom so as not to upset my mom by having a relationship with us independent of her. I am learning that this is very common with people who have issues like my mom, but it has been hard to accept. I do finally accept it now, but it hurts. Accepting it has been one of the things that has brought me to a place where I feel that I am getting more and more ready to go no contact. I have already lost everyone I would lose by doing it.
This last round was the end for me. I can't let her back in again. I have allowed the destruction of that relationship to affect my daughter already too much in her short 3 years. I can't do it anymore. I tried pulling back and just not responding to anything negative that she would send or say. It made it worse. She ramped it up. I don't sleep when she ramps it up. I am not present for my daughter the way I would like. I am coming unraveled. I miss work, miss time with my family, go long stretches without proper sleep. My husband had to take holiday time so that I could just go away for a few days to be able to try to work through my emotions about it all away from our daughter. He has taken so much time off of work to support me through the hard times with my mom. It has to stop. He is such an amazing man, but I know that I need to take care of my marriage. There are only so many years that I can expect him to keep picking up the pieces when my mom's presence in our lives causes so much chaos and yet I continue to allow it by giving her access.
It's so hard in this day and age. Technology has made it so hard to have healthy boundaries with someone who doesn't do well with respecting boundaries. There are so many different ways she can get to me. It doesn't matter where I am, she always has access. At the park with my daughter, she can send an absolutely rotten text and take me out. Out for breakfast with my family, she can call and call over and over (literally - call, no answer, hang up , call no answer, hangup, call no answer hang up) and dampen the mood with the stress I feel when I feel hunted down like that. At work, I can refresh my email and have my whole day change. When I shut down all forms of communication with her and blocked her from contact for a short time two years ago, I felt immediately safe. I slept so well the night I did it. I had expected to be up all night feeling guilty, but I wasn't. I just felt this immediate sense of safety. I knew she couldn't get to me. I didn't have to brace myself when checking my emails. I could post on Facebook a photo of my husband and I on a date and not get grilled about who watched our daughter. Every time my phone rang, I knew it couldn't be her. I really truly felt home-free. I knew it couldn't be forever at the time. Now, I don't know. Now, I think I need that safety or I will continue to expose my daughter to something that can only damage her. I need to get myself healthy. For my husband, for my daughter and for myself.
October 4, 2015
Sunday, October 04, 2015
No Place Else to Go
I don't miss being young. I miss feeling invincible. I miss thinking nothing could take me down. I miss feeling free to live without worrying about what every move will mean. That's how I felt when I first began travelling out on my own. Now, I feel like I am back in that prison I grew up in. Now, I feel like I have to brace myself for what is coming around each and every bend again.
I am trying to walk away from the most destructive relationship I have ever experienced. When that title is owned by the relationship with a parent, walking away is heavier than anyone's imagination could bare. It seems almost impossible to actually do it. It is bogged down in guilt. In all that I owe her. In all that went wrong for her. In all that made her life too hard to be able to love unconditionally. In all the good times, which translates to guilt. "Didn't you have fun when we took you to Edmonton?" "Your brother doesn't have any complaints" "It couldn't have been all bad". No, it wasn't. But when it has been bad, it has been awful. And it was and still is awful a lot. It has never truly ended. I am about to turn 38. I have a 3 year old. I am now the mother. I can't let the cycle continue. The dysfunction. The madness. It has been so much madness. I can't go through one more fight. I can't defend my right to one more feeling or decision. I can't see my daughter feel less safe and secure every time the energy in our home turns to one of survival and badly disguised emotional trauma. I can't take worrying that if I draw a line and stick to it that she will take her life. I need to walk away. And this is sure to be the hardest thing I have ever done.
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