The Sound of Silence

This morning I saw a cover of a song I have always known and never truly heard.  Until today.  It stopped me, sat me down and made me understand.  It told me about my mom's struggle, from a place of insight that my mom has no access to.  My heart broke for her.  From over here, instead of from inside of her darkness.

I heard it like she was singing, from a place where she is not ill.  She has never struck up an orchestra and let me into her pain, as a visitor like that.  She can't, as far as I can tell.  She has struck me with her pain in disordered attempts at sharing it, but there were no strings, no rich baritone, only emotional trauma.  She has punished me for her pain, and with it, but never taken my hand and shown me inside.  She has given it my name, among the others responsible.  I have never been able to see it entirely separate from me.  I live in it.  I find happiness despite it.  But it's always there.  It carries a weight with it that I can't describe.  I don't mean to sound like she didn't give me credit for her happiness too, she did.  The weight was just as much.

I have had some days, and even some weeks over the last year where I am able to walk away from her pain.  Most of the time, I can feel her pain, vibrating from my absence, so the distance was often only physical.  I could hear her words.  How could you do this to me.  You said you would take care of me.  You are breaking my heart.  After all we have done for you..  And then, every now and then, that tether would just release and I would be free.  Happy feelings without guilt for feeling them.  Lightness.  Peace.  These days, I have been free of that tether once again.  I have had this feeling before and then lost it, so I am not getting attached, but the freedom feels like such relief and I am soaking it in like sunshine.  It feels like I just put down something heavy that I had been carrying until my muscles were burning and shaking.  It feels like a warm spring day after a long, bitter winter.  I can breath again.

I have wanted to free her from her darkness my whole life, and even when I knew intellectually that I can't, my heart couldn't give it up.  Over the last year of trying to tell my heart it wasn't responsible for her, it couldn't stop.  It was involuntary.

And now as I hear it again, I realize it is me I am hearing singing.  It is the solitude I learned to understand life within that always divided us.  It is the difference between the darkness being a friend and a foe.  It is understanding the silence.  It is me freeing that tether and accepting that I can't make them understand. And accepting that I can't understand them either.  My desire to see my mother find peace is shifting from a mission to a wish.  Letting go has been hard.

"Fools" said I "You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you"
But my words like silent raindrops fell
And echoed in the wells of silence

- Paul Simon

Today it Feels Easier

I don't know if it's just the decision to stay, I know that has a lot to do with it.  But I think it's also comfort in the coming winter, a later bedtime for Ivy, making the days more do-able and the wake-ups not so painfully early.  It's knowing we get to work on our finances and get stronger.  It's a strong resolve to not eat out so much, save money, be in a position where we have more options.  It's hope that I can get some peace from my parents, that I can find a way to have them stop contacting me until I can build the strength to gate keep a limited relationship between them and us.  I love that moving is still possible down the road.  That we can give ourselves time to get our life into a less complicated place to move from if we do decide to go that route.  That we don't have to sort it all out right now.

And I love that we get to feel rooted somewhere again.  I feel so relieved.

To the end of indecision!

We have been planning on moving away.  Our decision was essentially made, but I was struggling with it so much.  I kept waffling.  I didn't understand why I had such a hard time to commit to either staying or going.  Neither felt good.  

So, we went to Nelson, which is where we planned to move.  The whole time we were there, we both agreed that we could live there.  It was beautiful.  It was laid-back.  It was everything I imagined and more.  So, we're doing it we decided. 

And then we came home.  We pulled up to our house and I felt such comfort.  I had a shower, looked out the window at our fire pit, the trees, the space around us and felt peace.  We drove out to the lake. The leaves are all gone from the trees and the lake view was incredible.  A mist over the lake made it look like an ocean.  It was so quiet and beautiful, I felt quiet and peaceful.  More peaceful than I had felt for our whole holiday.

I was up all night the second night out there.  I couldn't imagine another year of trepidation.  Another year of indecision.  I couldn't imagine selling our home and cottage until we had lived there and felt it was home.  

So we looked into options to move for a trial period, without selling anything here.  It was not do-able financially.  Not even close.  And then the decision was made.  Now is not the time.  There may be a time, but not now.  For now, our home is our home.  Our cottage is still our cottage and we can continue to form roots here.  I am so relieved.  I couldn't make the decision but when it was made for me, it was the right one.  I feel so in love with our life here.  I feel so grateful for the friends we have, for the business, for our home, our yard, our cottage.  I feel grateful for the view from our front window, for the trees and the space.  There is nothing like our neighbourhood in Nelson.  Nothing even close.  

Plus, we don't get bears in our yard.  Bonus.

Where Do I Start. Where Does It End.

Sometimes people let you down and then you realize that they were never put in your day for you.  They put you there for them.  And then you feel sick about it for a bit.  And then you move on.

So, bla bla bla bla.  Moving on.

One Step Closer

The conversation my husband had with my dad, threatening to involve the police did not work.  My dad was back at my door within a week and a half.  I asked him to stop coming again, he said no.  He said they wanted to give us an anniversary card.  My mom has made no bones about upsetting me and ruining many special days in my life.  That has been acceptable to her.  But not giving a card is somehow across the line.

It went the same as always.  I told him that I had just had a massage, was having a good day, and now he put me into a tailspin.  I had thought I would get a break from the visits and there he was.

I didn't sleep that night.  In the morning, facing the task of painting the exterior of our house, going out for dinner for our anniversary and then hosting our daughter's birthday party the following day, all without sleep made me feel angry, panicked and trapped.  I wasn't okay.

I was crying and couldn't stop.  I told my husband I needed to leave the house so that our daughter wouldn't see me.  I drove and cried and yelled and cried some more.  I went and got a coffee.  I sat in my car and wrote.  I felt myself shift back to feeling okay again.  I realized again that writing was a big part of how I made it.  Leaving was a big part.  I sat with my coffee and climbed back into my early adulthood, when I could leave and let it all go.  Into fields, into water, into the sky, wherever.   I realized that it wasn't easy back then, it hurt just as much.  I just was able to deal with it.  I had the space.

Since then, I have been feeling a need to find some kind of peace before we leave.  I am beginning to find more peace with moving.  I am grasping less at wanting my dad to understand or show me any sincere love.  I still struggle about my mom, I seem to go back and forth between sad and angry.  I know I shouldn't be angry, I know that she can't help it.  But I am angry.  Why can't she give in to the help she is getting and stop pretending things are one way when they are another.

The one person that I can't seem to reconcile is my aunt.  I have been feeling so upset about my dad saying that we are 'snubbing' them, when we would love nothing more than to have them in our lives, without them fighting mom's battle.  Upset that my aunt asked if it's because my mom is 'negative' when I have shared enough with her to know that she has abused me for decades, that she has manipulated me with guilt and shame, that she has isolated me away from her, etc.  I was upset that she told me that she just lets it roll off, and wanted to know why I couldn't do the same.  I needed to tell her that being obedient isn't the same as letting it roll off.  And that conversation would go on and on in my head.  How unfair this was.  How if she could let it roll off, she would be in our lives, letting the consequences roll off.

So I called.  I said what I needed to say.  She said what I needed to hear.  That she loves me.  That she misses us.  That she isn't disappointed in me at all.  It was sad because she confirmed that she can't be in our lives, they would know and it would be too hard.  But she accepts that we are doing what we have to.  She said that if she were in my position, as hard as it would be, she would probably do the same.  She said I deserve a happy life.  She told me I can call her again if I need to talk.  I told her that we would not share our address with my parents if we move and she understood.  I have been so worried that she thinks I am a monster for this.  Having her blessing to move feels so good.

I miss her so much.

Surprise Yourself

Music is a big part of what is carrying me through this.  Today it was Surprise Yourself by Jack Garratt.  On my way to work it came on and it released so much tension from my body, let me breath, and then out of nowhere, I was crying.  I thought about our trip to Nelson in two weeks.  We are just going for a holiday but when we come back, we may come home with a decision in mind. We may come back to tidy up our life here and leave.  It hit me when the song came on and I felt the three of us leaving.  I felt so relieved and heartbroken all at once.

Love her if you only knew 
the times that train has fooled me too
And tears me from a place I know
It helps me to surprise myself
You know you can surprise yourself
So let go and surprise yourself

                          - Jack Garratt

Holy Crap

I participate in a support forum for people with family member's who have personality disorders.  Tonight I saw a girl ask if she was becoming abusive because she was standing up to her mom.  The answer seemed obvious to me, after reading what she is going through - absolutely not.  But while posting a response, I realized that if I were to ever open up the door to my mom again, any role I would play in any fight we had going forward, I would view differently now.  I have come to realize over the last year or so how grateful I am that I was able to fight for myself (despite so often wishing I could just let it all roll off) because it kept me from letting her convince me that I am not enough, that I am not worthy of love.  Fighting was a survival mechanism.

But now that I got away from her, I can see that fighting was never going to end it.  So now, if I go back, it's on me.  I can't justify one more fight.  I know better now.  I wish I had known it earlier.  But I know it now.   Fighting can no longer be a survival mechanism.  Fighting is what you do to survive an encounter, not a relationship for decades.

And now I have the answer to that question that I had asked my counsellor all those months ago.  What was my role in the dysfunction?  My role was defence and self preservation back then.  It was all I knew and I had no idea how to untangle myself from that relationship so that I wouldn't have to fight.  But now, if I were to engage in any more fighting, I would be responsible for any hurt I caused by defending myself.  Because it is now my responsibility to stay away from a flame that I know will burn me, rather than keep going in for more and then feeling justified in what I need to do to protect myself.

Holy crap.

Sunshine and Falling Leaves

I slept well last night.  I woke up and cleaned the kitchen.  And it was easy.  It has been feeling nearly impossible to do it every day. I have been using all the energy I have to take care of my daughter, work and cope with the stress of my family situation.  Today, I found energy for more.  

As I drove to an appointment, I listened to a song about leaving. I felt happy and sad all at once.  I felt cathartic and realized how far away from cathartic I have felt for so long.  I don't expect the pain to be gone, but I am grateful to feel it mellow.

I felt comfortable like I had just had a hot bath or a massage.  The morning sunlight on the changing leaves made everything so vibrant.

I showed a house that felt like the west coast to me.  I knew suddenly that we could find a home we love out there.  I felt closer to ready.

I thought about what makes me happy.

My husbands company, my daughter's laugh, sunshine in the mornings, good coffee, good music, fall, rain, cloudy days, fireplaces, space around me, the smell of cut vegetables, raw garlic, cooking, writing, trees, bon fires, friends, work that makes me happy, mild winter days, hoar frost, snow falling softly, art, the sky, a good book, laughter.

Can I find all of that out there?  I think...  absolutely.

And The Head and The Heart sings, "Been talking about the way things change.  And my family lives in a different state.  And if you don't know what to make of this, then we will not relate".

Home For a Rest

3 days ago my husband called my dad.  He told him that it stops here.  That if he needs to communicate anything with us, he can call my husband.  No more showing up.  He told him that if he continues to show up, despite all of our communication about how upsetting it is and all of our requests that he stop, we will involve the police.  

It caused me some real anxiety for a few hours.  I kept having to push away this sick feeling, the same awful feeling I get every time we have to re-enforce our boundaries.  Where my stomach feels weird and my heart beats too fast.  And then I said to my husband, "that was the right call to make, right?" and he said it was absolutely the right call to make and it was long overdue.  I knew in my heart he was right.  I began to feel a bit lighter.  By bedtime, felt like I could breath easier.  The next day, I felt lighter still.  I fell playing with my daughter and injured my leg and still felt better.  I felt relieved that my problem that day was a hurt leg, not my parents coming at me.  Yesterday, I began to feel a bit free, like I did right after I shut down communication with my mom.  I got my first solid night of sleep in weeks.  

I know the hard parts aren't over, but I am just so grateful for a break.  I had been feeling less and less able to cope with it.  I feel so unbelievably relieved to know that my dad will not show up any time soon.  I am grateful to feel like I can relax in my own home.  

As much as I doubt our decision to move and feel uneasy about giving up our life here, this feeling let's me know that it will be worth it.  I want a life where they can't get to me.  I want a peaceful life.  

What I Really Believe

This morning I had this thought about how often I question if I am doing the right thing.  I thought, what if my whole life was riding on selecting the correct answer from the following options, how would I answer?

a) the things that have led me to become estranged (and stay estranged) from my family are valid concerns to want to protect my daughter from  

or

b)  I shouldn't be doing this to protect my daughter (and my husband and I) from the dysfunction of my family of origin - the reasons for it just are not enough to warrant this result.

What would I choose.  If everything was riding on it?  

I realized this morning that I would choose 'a'.  If I had to risk everything on the belief that I was doing the right thing, I would.  

I can't truly believe that I am supposed to allow it to continue and risk passing all of that anger and dysfunction on to the next generation.  I can't risk exposing my daughter to the fights, the manipulations, the lies, the hurt, the anger, etc.  I can't risk putting myself in a position that I have historically never been able to successfully keep from getting caught up in all of the anger and dysfunction.  I am her mother.  I am her protector.  I owe her the best I can do.  And as excruciating as this is, this is the only way to guarantee she won't see my mom in her low places telling her she would be better off without her, she won't be shamed for always loving someone else more, she won't feel responsible for whether my mom lives or dies, she won't feel guilty for letting my mom down when she doesn't do what my mom wanted.  She won't do what my mom wants out of fear of letting her down, out of fear of being responsible for her unhappiness.  She won't have people taken away from her when my mom's disordered behaviours cause people to take their distance from her time and time again.  She won't have to realize that she is just not as important as my mom to her grandpa and great aunt.  She will never feel the heartbreak of learning that she has disappointed her grandma.  She will never feel the shame of being told that she embarrassed her grandma.  She won't feel the effects of my mom doing all of the above to me and leaving me in a weakened position to parent from.

She will get to grow up free to be exactly who she is, without worrying that she will let her grandma down.  She will grow up without the weight of adult issues.  She will grow up in a household where holidays do not bring nasty phone calls, cards, emails or otherwise that take the wind out of her own mom's sails.  She will grow up without expectations of who she should be.  She will be loved if she is different.  The love she receives won't have a private dark side.

If my life was riding on it, I would bet my life that I am not supposed to expose her to a relationship that I know will continue to cause damage in our lives, will continue to take my best away so I have less to give her and will continue to perpetuate emotional manipulation of us and those around us.    There has been so much pressure on me to accept these things in my mom and I will not ever put pressure on her to be dutiful to a love that hurts so much.

Again

My dad came back again today.  My mom wants us to all sit down and talk this out.  I told him once again that the only way I will open the door to communication is if I hear from her psychiatrist that she believes she is showing enough progress to make a healthy relationship more possible.  I told him that I don't have it in me to be hurt by my family any more.  He once again turned it all on me, that I am the one hurting them.  That this is my fault.  I said he has just taken over for her, and that he is turning into her.  He threatened in a terse voice, "You better watch what you say".  I told him again that he's not welcome here and to stop coming.  I told him that where I stand with the family is clear.  That I feel hurt and abandoned by them.  I said the people who care about me would never do this to me and they are who my family is.  I said that he and my aunt say that they just let it roll off, but they don't.  They obey her.  They give in and that is not the same as letting things roll off.  If they could let it all roll off, they would be in our lives.  He said, well, that's just how things go.  I said, that's just how things go with mom.

I so badly need this to stop.  I told him I haven't slept well since the last time he came and he just laughed and said I'm not the only one not sleeping.  I said that she created this for herself and he scoffed at it and said I did.  

It Starts to Break

It's been getting hard to sleep again.  It's not just the no contact thing, it's a combination of being busy and ignoring those issues inside.  When I don't deal with my feelings about my estrangement from my family, they begin to grow ugly roots around my heart and I need to spend some time untangling it all.

This morning I listened to the song I listened to after leaving my mom's psychiatrist's office.  I let myself sit with my morning coffee and climb back into that grief so that I could let it out and accept it.  I don't know why it's so hard to just feel it the way it is, without all of the rumination and internal fight.  Without still battling her.  Or them.  Or me..

Today I had the space to just feel it.  The sadness.  The loss.  The grief.  It's all dancing inside of me like a hauntingly sad, silent ballet.  I feel relieved to finally feel it again.  The raw emotion.  Not the anger and the frustration and the guilt that seems to attach themselves so easily.  The pain that is where acceptance comes from.

I need now to accept that I have lost my aunt.  I have accepted that my brother and I will likely never have a relationship again.  I think I have grieved my dad.  I never expected him to protect me or to look out for me in any real way.  Plus his health has been declining for so long that I had already been preparing myself for loss.  My mom told me 15 years ago that he was showing signs of early Alzheimer's and I think I cried for two days solid (I don't know why she said it, she has also told me that she thinks she has Alzheimers).  When I found out his body was starting to shut down on him,  diabetes, arteries almost closed, little heart attacks and he kept on smoking and drinking, I grieved.  Ambulance calls, hospital stays and still he couldn't let go of his vices.  I cried and cried and cried.  I let go and let go.  Little did I know that all of that grieving would help me now.  My mom is like the rest of his vices.  He won't see how unhealthy it all is.  Even when faced with what seems like the worst.  He let go of his beer finally, but I can see now that it was only because he couldn't drink anymore without falling over.  He never did it for the better of our family.  He couldn't made choices like that and I can walk away from him easier because of that.  My mom always made me believe that everything she did was for our family and I couldn't see how selfish her choices really were, how mentally ill she really was because I was raised to see her the way she wanted to be seen.

So that's where I am at.  Still struggling to accept the loss of my aunt.  Beginning to accept the loss of my mom.  Accepting the loss of my dad and brother.  It's a long way from where I started.

One day in the not so distant future, I think we will drive away from this place and make our home somewhere new.  And I want to find peace before we go.

"Sometimes the tears we cry, are more than any heart can take.  We hurt, just keep it inside, it's no wonder that it starts to break."  - Birdy

Update:  5 hours after writing this post, my dad showed up.  He asked why I can't be stronger than this.  He told me that my mom just lies in bed all day.  He said that he and my aunt aren't in our lives because we 'snubbed them'.  He told me to quit bringing up the past.  Any peace I had found, turned to anger, tears and renewed guilt.  I told him to never come over and do this to me again.  I told him that he was as responsible as she was for all that abuse because he stood by and did nothing.  He allowed it.  I asked him if all those days she spent in bed when I was a kid were my fault too.  I told him if he wanted things to improve to quit enabling her by re-enforcing that I am the problem.  I reminded him that I will not open the door without hearing from her psychiatrist that she is showing enough improvement to have a healthy relationship.  I reminded him it doesn't have to be perfect, but it has to be healthy.  I told him that what I am doing is requiring an unbelievable amount of strength and that I am doing for my daughter what nobody did for me.

And I shouldn't have bothered saying any of it.

It Takes a Long Time

It takes a long time to get through this.  It has been awhile since writing here - it has been difficult to make sense of things and I think this is where I come when I finally start to feel some kind of peace.  Sometimes that means a long absence while I walk through it, lost.  It would be more beneficial to write than to wander lost, I'm sure!

To catch up on the basics, after repeated requests to have my dad respect our boundaries, 8 months into NC, I let them know (through my aunt) that I no longer want contact with either one of them.  No more cards or gifts on holidays and we don't want them going out to our cottage (a place that they were always welcome before).  It put me into the darkness for a bit.  Back into that sadness that is too painful to have anything beautiful about it.

And now, I feel officially like an orphan.  It hurts so much that this is the healthiest option.  The pain runs so deep and it feels like a secret.  It's not like my parents passed away, both within 8 months of one another and I can talk openly about my grief.  It is a dark family secret they don't want anyone to know.  I am used to those, but so tired of them and I want to be able to be open.  I want to be able to own my decision and not feel like it's my deep dark secret.  But if I were to be open now, the anxiety and guilt that would result from telling would be more than I can handle.  In my heart I know that it's her secret I would be telling.  I want to get to a place where I feel like I can own my truth over keeping her secrets.

Lately I have been thinking about Christmas time.  How scared I am already that I will run into my mom at a mall.  Today that thought triggered so much pain.  Not because of feeling scared at how painful it would be to see her and have her see my daughter (it would be heartbreaking and I dread that ultimately inevitable moment), but because I thought about how painful this coming Christmas will be for her.  My mind's eye saw her shopping for presents for people she no longer has in her life, and my heart shattered at how sad I know she is.  And I want to make it better but I can't.  And I want to have a mom but I can't.  And I want to understand why, but I can't.

Enter, Grieving

I had a counselling session today.  Two really.  Two of my best people helped me through some of it and then I had counselling.  Between the two, I feel lighter.  One of my friends as well as my counsellor said that I have entered the stages of grieving.  Months ago, I didn't understand why both of them were saying that I couldn't be grieving yet.  I still don't really, but I feel relieved to be there now and I know that they are right.  Emotionally I can feel the difference in what I was going through before and now even if I don't know why.  My counsellor told me it was good.  She looked relieved.  She said it's hard to go through it, but it's healthy.

She also pointed out again that guilt seems to drive a lot of my struggle.  I expressed worry about my mom taking her own life.  I told her I would feel responsible.  I felt like I needed to talk to her psychiatrist again because there were things that I wished I had said, and need to feel like I have done everything I can.  She asked me to work on receiving the advice I would give someone in my position.  I would tell them that they are not responsible for their mom.  That if she took her life, it would never be their fault.  That the estrangement itself wasn't their fault.

I can't help feeling responsibility for not being able to handle my mom's illness better and still be there for her.   It's a tough one.  Ivy is the key.  It's Ivy I need to focus on.  I would be in my mom's life if I didn't have Ivy.  I know that I couldn't be maintaining this without her to protect. If I didn't close that door, Ivy would have continued to be exposed to the dysfunction I wanted so badly to protect her from.  Every time I feel guilty, I need to try to feel proud of myself for having the strength to do this to create a more stable childhood for my own daughter than what I had.  When I was talking to my counsellor about my dad, she said that the longer that someone is exposed to domestic abuse, and the younger they are when it occurs, the less and less likely it becomes that they will ever be able to separate themselves from it.  She said it takes an unbelievable amount of strength to end a cycle.  I need to feel proud of myself that I am finding that strength.  And I need to understand that that is why this is so hard.  If it was easy, there would be less abusive cycles perpetuating out there.

The Appointment

I met with her. My mom's psychiatrist.  As soon as I saw her, I knew.  She is wonderful.  My mom has a wonderful supportive place to come.  I find some peace in knowing that.

And then I told her.  As much as I could say in the hour and a half I had there.  Childhood, teenage years, my twenties, my first years as a mother.  At the end, there was no more time.  She said I cannot expose my daughter to my mom's manipulations.  She was sure.  Confident in that statement.  She said it several times.  I asked if she thought it could get better.  I saw it in her eyes.  No.  It was a silent no.  It was a pause and a look in her eyes.  It was sadness, a 'how do I break this to her'... My heart started falling.  Like Niagara Falls.

What she said, after the pause was, your mom needs to develop the ability for insight.  It's like how an alcoholic can't change until they can raise their hand and say, I am an alcoholic.  She said sometimes a little change can be enough to make the difference, but it would be a lot of work to effect a small change.

I wanted her to know so much more.  How much I love my mom.  How funny she can be.  How good she is with Ivy.  How much Ivy loves her.  How much I always wanted to make her happy.  How much it hurts to be doing the opposite.   How much I feel like I have failed her.  How I did my best.  And I'm sorry for getting so mad sometimes.  How sorry I am that I ever tried to tell her why and hurt her more by talking about it.

But the time was up.  So I left.  I picked up my daughter.  I played with her until bedtime.  I hugged her tight.  I kissed her and let her lick my arm like a puppy.  I feel so sad for her too.  She loves her grandma.

This is so hard..  Every day I question if I am doing the wrong thing.  Most days anyway.  And now, I know for certain, I can't open the door.  The person who is in her corner, her healthiest support has said what I know.  What the people closest to me try to make sure I remember.  That opening the door back up to her will hurt Ivy.  And I can't.

So now, I wait.  I need to learn to let it be out of my hands.  Her psychiatrist said if there comes a time she thinks we could discuss contact, she will call me.

One more thing.  She asked me why I always kept going back for more.  She pointed out that I did that and asked if I was working on finding out why with my own therapist.  I want to write that here so I remember.  I need to ask my counsellor to help me figure that out.

I Feel Ready

Today I will have a session with my mom's psychiatrist.  At first when she called, I was so relieved.  A chance.  To be heard. A chance for her to understand more clearly my mom's struggles with reality. A chance for my mom's treatment to get more effective with more knowledge.

And then I started to worry.  What if she doesn't believe me.  What if she does and she doesn't think my mom can change.  Then what?  I'm afraid of giving up hope.

This morning I woke up and I feel ready.  I feel open and willing to be vulnerable. Risk it.  Go in without defences and fears.

This has all been so sad and so heavy.  I don't know what today will bring, but through it another inch would be worth it.  So, here I go...

Something Like Peace

I haven't written in so long.  I want to be okay.  I don't like writing when I don't feel like I am getting somewhere.  I should have written in the last few days.  They have been so good.  I have felt something like peace.

Today is Easter Sunday.  When my daughter woke up, I went into our room (she always comes into our bed at some point in the night) and told her the easter bunny had come.  Her face lit up.  She was wearing a black t-shirt with a gold sparkly heart where her heart is.  Her hair was in a messy ponytail with the cutest little short bangs.  The dim light in the room made her sweet little face glow.  I keep falling more and more in love with her.  She asked if we could go see what the Easter Bunny left and I agreed.  We raced out to the living room and she found her presents and went on the hunt for eggs.  My husband and I had prepared sticky buns and mimosas.  It's our Christmas morning tradition and we decided to make it a new Easter tradition too.  We enjoyed a beautiful, relaxing, happy morning as a family.  I relished in a new tradition.  I loved the peace we had found.

And then I called my dad back.  He said him and my aunt wanted to come by with Easter stuff.  I was happy my aunt was coming and looked forward to the visit.  When they arrived, my aunt looked at me as though she had a gun to her head and said "your mom is in the car.  I know you probably don't want to invite her in".  My stomach dropped.  I felt all the wind knocked out of me.  I just said, no.

They stayed for about 25 minutes.  I progressively felt more and more sick.  I couldn't believe that my mother was outside in the car.  Her view was our living room window.  Floor to ceiling windows.  A silent picture show, uninvited.  I thought about her tears.  I tried not to look for her silhouette in the car.  I felt like it was surreal.  A bad dream.  This wasn't my life.  My mom sitting outside in a car, surely crying, watching my dad, aunt, daughter, husband and I play and laugh and visit while I, the wicked daughter, refused to invite her in.

And that thing that was something like peace went somewhere else.

It's time to accept it..

It's been awhile since I wrote.  I think I needed a break.  The heaviness is less heavy.  The stress is still very much there, but the weight of it is just more manageable.   I needed to just ride that for a bit.  Not speak of it or write of it while I enjoyed these sporadic moments of relief.

In speaking with my aunt, I stepped closer to peace.  I suspect it's still a ways off, but I think I have found it in certain moments.  I need to accept that I will never feel good about it.  It will never not hurt.  It's never going to be easy to see posts about moms on Facebook or see other moms and daughters, especially of similar age to my mom and I.   There will always be things that trigger memories of her that cause a missing that stops me in my tracks.  That breaking of my heart may be an eternal echo through vacant halls and halls of memories I wish I could climb back into.  There will always be times where I allow myself to wander down those halls and remember her.  I wish I could take those good times and sew together something that made her better.  Something that stopped her brain from whatever causes it.

It's getting easier to see.  I still admit to some far off hope that one day we can maintain some kind of healthy agreeable relationship, though I know that it is not realistic.  She will not get better.  She will not learn not to hurt us.  She wouldn't have sent those awful Xmas cards if she was gaining any clarity or seeing progress that could lead us back together.   She would have stopped when we were children if she could have.  It's like there is something that is scrambled in her brain and when it's triggered, there is no accountability or concern for what damage is causes.  And that is because she doesn't consciously know it has happened.

And so I accept that there is an alternate reality out there.  It is her reality.  Where this is all out of nowhere.  Where it is because she did too much.  She was too good to me, and through all of that spoiling, I lost the ability to appreciate her.  Where I am betraying her.  Where I have turned.  Where she doesn't know where she went wrong.  Where I must be ill.  Where she hopes that one day I can see the error of my ways and stop doing this to her.  And that reality is the story she will share, when she eventually can't pretend anymore to those around her that she is still in our lives.  She will say I went off the deep end.  And she will be my victim.  And they will believe her.  And I finally accept that.  I finally feel like I don't have one toe in her reality where I feel the accountability to her version.  I finally feel less swayed by her story.  It is just that.  A story.

Out of my head and into the air

I finally talked to my aunt.  It went better than I could have expected and she gave me the gift of some peace.  Acceptance of where we are at.  I don't know if that will last, it's hard for me to stay there, I suspect she will slip back into thinking that we should be allowing my mom access to our daughter.  But now the conversation exists.

I opened up to her.  A lot.  I was never allowed to talk about what went on in our house.  To tell someone who was in our life so much and had no idea of some of the stuff that was happening felt good.  It felt healthy.  It felt like letting light come into dark places.

It also stirred up some stuff in me.  I spoke of memories that I don't like to revisit.  My aunt talked about some of the things my mom has said.  Right after that meeting with my aunt and over the days that followed, I felt a lot of relief but it feels like some of the things I talked about and the things I learned are closing in on me.  She asks my aunt to drive by our house with her.  That means she is definitely driving by on her own.  She said she is googling 'grandparent rights'.  I don't know what she is going to do to ramp things up, but I feel like something is coming.   She also told me about my mom's versions of some things.  One of the things that bothered me most was that she tells my aunt that while I say I didn't want to be in dance class for 8 years, that I was pushed too hard and wanted out, the truth is that it was a different story when I won trophies.  Then I was all smiles.  My aunt conveyed a smugness when she said it that I can only guess is conveying the spirit behind my mom's words when she speaks of it.  It makes me angry.  She wouldn't speak to me when I didn't place high enough.  I was a disappointment and a letdown then.  Of course I smiled when I did anything that got her approval.  And that aside, of course I smiled if I won a competition.  Feeling pushed, feeling pressured to win, pressured to be the best, feeling intimidated by my teacher, not liking dance, etc. - none of that should mean that I shouldn't be allowed to feel good about doing well when I did well.  In the years that I had lost love for it, there were not many trophies.  I was allowed a smile when there was one.

It's hard knowing how much she is obsessing. She is applying a lot of pressure to my dad to contact me and ask to let her visit.  She has pressured my aunt as well.  She confirmed that my mom asked for the email I sent.  That she handed her her iPad and sent my aunt on a mission at xmas to get photos and videos of Ivy for her.  This I knew, but still hearing it adds some weight to it.  My aunt says that my mom keeps saying to her and my dad that they must know more that they are not telling her.

My aunt also spoke of a time my mom was committed to the psych ward, before my brother and I were around.  My mom has referenced this, quite a lot in recent years.  She doesn't say anything about it other than that she tried to kill herself and spent a month there.  My aunt said that the doctors had thought she may be schizophrenic.  While I don't think that she is (though I do think she has a personality disorder), it gives me a bit of relief to hear that that long ago, a professional has seen issues that seem to be invisible to so many people.  Things that she keeps in check around most people.

All of it feels so heavy again.  I felt such relief a few days after talking to my aunt.  An intense, beautiful relief.  It took me that long to have the relief truly set in and then it was gone so quickly.  That talk with my aunt has been something that I have been feeling the need to do for so long, it was always this future conversation that would hang over my head.  I so needed it to be over, and now it is and I'm still struggling so much.

Maybe more relief will come.  I really hope it will.  Maybe I am just having a hard day.  It was a challenging day with my daughter.  My husband is gone on another long trip after only being home briefly after a long trip.  I feel a bit overwhelmed.  I hope that tomorrow will be better..

"It's Wrong"

My dad called again this weekend. He wanted to know if they could come for a visit.  I get this call every few weeks.  Each time I say that he is welcome, but I am not ready to allow visits with my mom.  This time I was more clear.  "It is your choice to stay away dad".  He said, "No, we're being told.".  I reminded him that I have been consistently clear that he and my aunt are welcome to visit.  His response was "It's wrong".  Two powerful words to the daughter who is trying so hard to stop feeling like it's wrong to put an end to the dysfunctional cycle I have known my whole life.

It made me angry.  I feel angry still.  So many things have been "wrong".  And my dad never said a word.  He never spoke up.  Nobody did.  Nobody ever came to me as a kid to say, "It's wrong".   Nobody ever told me it wasn't my fault or that I didn't deserve it.  That it was going to be okay.

It was wrong.  He was wrong.  Wrong to not come home after work.  Wrong to lie.  Wrong to hide booze around the house.  Wrong to smash his car while drunk.  Wrong to need a babysitter.  Wrong to scare his kids.

And her.  All the yelling.  Screaming.  Shaming.  Bullying.  Crying.  Smashing.  Threats.  It was wrong.  He didn't say a word about that either.  It was my job as their kid to take it all in.  And it is my job now to continue to.  And if I don't, if I can't, that is wrong.  And if I ever stood up for myself, that was wrong too.  You're not supposed to speak out against a parent.  You're supposed to take it.

After all the things that were wrong, I never once heard him stand up and say a word.  He took it.  Her abuse.  Let her abuse us.  Never stood up to say that anything was wrong, ever.  Until two years ago, he made sure I knew I was wrong to not speak to her then.  And again now.  My only experience of my father standing up for anything was to stand up against me.

So I have let them both down.  The anger makes me think I don't care, but the charge that runs through my body tells me that I do.  If I didn't care, it wouldn't affect me.  I want to not care.  I feel angry because every time I finally feel some relief, he calls and I go back to fight or flight.

I want to disconnect completely.  I want it to be over.  I'm so sick of disappointing them.  Being in their life is like shooting craps.  Will I land on pride or disappointment.  I never know.  Every time I play, it switches.  We're so proud.  You're breaking our hearts.  Disappointment was always such a part of my relationship with my mom because she was always so vocal about it.  What I never realized was how much my dad agreed.  Not saying anything was his silent support for everything she did. All those years that I thought he silently felt for me and sympathized with how she treated me, he didn't.  He silently condemned me for standing up for myself.  He never thought she was wrong.  Only me.

I was a kid.  I needed him to say it was wrong then.  I was just a kid.  I get to say enough now.  Enough.

Day One

Day one.  I am three months in and today feels like day one.  Day one of not punishing myself.  Day one of taking better care of myself.  Day one of loving myself more.

I didn't know it yesterday.  I didn't even know it when I woke up this morning.  I started to know it when I pulled my clothes on this morning over my twenty extra pounds, which suddenly didn't feel like mine.  As I put on my snow pants that don't do up.  But I didn't know for sure until my second loop around the dog park.  And then it hit me.  Today is day one.  Today I feel ready.

I am ready to get up earlier.  I am ready to stop letting my life be less healthy because I give my energy to guilt and punishing thoughts.  I am ready to stop drinking two glasses of wine once my daughter is in bed as my stress relief.  I am even ready to stop drinking two cups of coffee in the morning which fuels the tightness in my chest and primes me to feel my stress extra.

I went to the dog park and thought about running into my brother's girlfriend and what we might say to each other if that happened.  Then I thought, 'day one' and I noticed how fresh the air felt.  I thought of what I will say to my aunt one day when we talk about my departure from my mom.  Then I thought, this is day one, I don't need to worry about that right now.  My thoughts turned back to the beautiful intensity of the winter sun and the clean lines the trees shadows cast on the snow.  Every time a negative thought came in, that mantra wiped it away.

So I did an extra loop at the park and went for groceries and each time my thoughts turn to things that don't make me feel good, I remind myself that I am allowed to start new today.  I am allowed to let go of those old thoughts.  I am allowed to live in the world that doesn't eventually convince me that I deserved to be hurt.  I am allowed to not eventually convince myself that everything my mom always said was true.  I am allowed to not feel at fault.  I can forgive myself for my part in the dysfunction of that relationship.  I don't need to keep punishing myself.  If I am going to keep doing that, I might as well just let my mom back in and give her her voice back.

Today is day one of truly taking a departure from my mom.  Sad and heavy, hopeful and light.  All of those things at once..

Iceberg

I had a counselling session today.  I needed it so badly.  The weight and stress of it all was getting to me.  I don't know why it builds so much, why I can't release it on my own.  The minute I walk into that room, a dam breaks.  I crumble.  I don't know what it is about that room, but I give myself permission there to fall apart.  I feel so good after.  So much lighter.  Where there was darkness forming, warm light takes over.  Relief.

After talking with my counsellor, I feel like I am part of the rest of the world.  The world where I am not expected to accept abuse as a part of my relationship with my mom.  Where I am not punished for disappointing her.  Where I don't live in the house I grew up in.  Between sessions, I seem to always go back to the mind that still lives under that roof.  Where that stuff is normal and where I am absolutely not allowed to protect myself, my husband and my daughter from that relationship.  Even while I am doing it, I don't feel allowed.  I feel like I am breaking a very, very big rule and I'm terrified of the consequences.

My counsellor asked me to hold onto the image of an iceberg.  On top of the water is what my mom shows to the world.  Her kindness, her generosity, her love.  Beneath the water is what I know is there.  The parts of her that have hurt me for decades and that others don't see.  She wants me to find a ritual, a way to tap into the kind of release I get in her office.  I don't know how to build a ritual around the iceberg.   I don't know where it would go.  I don't want to imagine her sinking.  I can't lift it out of the water, not even in my mind.  I don't want to expose her.  I just want to accept myself for doing this.  I want to accept that this is happening at all.  It is so hard to accept that she will always hurt me.  If I let her back in, she will hurt me.  She will hurt my family.  The dysfunction of that relationship will hurt Ivy.  There is a good chance she will hurt Ivy by doing to her all the things she doesn't understand hurt me as she grows up.   I am having such a hard time accepting that I may never be able to have her in my life.  I may never laugh with her on the porch at the lake.  I will likely never make her smile again.  Never pick her spirits up again.  Never go shopping with her again.   I may never see her play with Ivy again.  She loves her so much.  It all seems so cruel.  Of me.  Of life.  Of my mom.

I've been so afraid of it.  Of saying it.  Saying what I miss.  Saying what I want back.  Saying what I am afraid of never having again.  What I am afraid of my mom never having again.  That's why I don't let it out on my own.  I am too scared to go there on my own.  No one is sitting in a chair right in front of me pulling a curtain away from a window and letting light in.  No one is telling me that it's okay.  But I need to learn to do that for myself.  Find a way to be kind to myself through it.  I have not been kind to myself.  I have taken over my mom's role.  I have told myself how much I am letting her down.  After all she's done.  After all she's been through.  If I am going to keep her out of my life, I can't take over the voice I am trying to find shelter from.

Okay.  Kindness.  Warm light on what hurts rather than punishing thoughts.  I did it once, I can do it again.  Stop treating myself like I am not worthy of a peaceful life.  Stop believing I owe it to her to let her hurt me.  Stop believing that what is above water on the iceberg means I need to be so deeply affected by what is below the surface.   Maybe I need to set myself free from that iceberg.  Stand on solid ground and accept that she will drift.  That she could sink.  That I can't save her.  The ocean will always be bigger than me.

It feels like giving up on her.  It feels so incredibly sad..  Sad is too small a word.

It is an iceberg sinking.  It is the deafening thunder of ice breaking on the river.  It is my heart letting go.  Just a little, and that is more than enough for today..

Sometimes I can't tell if it's getting better.  It doesn't feel like it is.  I have had a few good days where it has felt better in the last couple of weeks, but then it comes back and I can't tell if it comes back just as painful or if it subsides even slightly.  My hope is that it is getting easier, it's just such a slow process that I can't tell the difference from one day to the next.  So, I thought I should start keeping a record of what this feels like to hopefully encourage myself over time that it is in fact getting easier.

When I first went no-contact, it felt like relief.  I knew she couldn't get to me and I felt happy, relieved and light.  That lasted about 4-5 days.  Then it felt very heavy.  I kept having moments of panic over the reality of it.  I struggled with worries about how my aunt might feel.  I felt guilt.  A lot of it.  I felt angry in some moments.  I had significant trouble sleeping.  My energy levels were very low, I ordered in or we ate out, a lot.  I couldn't keep on top of housework.  I think I was depressed.

Positive changes have happened too.  Almost immediately, certain anxieties diminished, significantly.  Nothing mom-related, so I was surprised.  That has maintained so far and feels great.  Also, our household is very peaceful.  Even though I feel very sad about what is going on and am internally going through a very difficult time with it, I am able to put it away around my daughter.  It is also such a drastic difference from the worst part of the cycle my mom and I went through.  So while I don't have the worry free times where things are just easy for a bit, I also don't have these spikes in the chaos of that relationship.  It is steady.

Where I am at now - much of the first paragraph is still true but in writing this, I can see that there are more changed than I thought.  I am sleeping better, but not great (though I have had short stretches where I slept great, following good counselling sessions).  I don't feel as angry.  I still struggle with what my aunt might think or feel about this, but that worry has diminished and I definitely have moments where I can tell I will be able to accept that consequence one day.  I know that I will need to ask her for her understanding before I can truly move on, but if I ask and she can't or won't, I think I can now accept it.  I am gaining my first glimmers of truly understanding that my mom has been ill since long before I was even in the picture and that there was never anything I could do to avoid it.  It truly was not my fault.  This one I think will take years to truly take in, but the first winds of actually feeling it rather than just intellectually knowing it feels like a relief.  In writing this and really thinking back, the heaviness I felt has diminished somewhat.  It's easy to feel like it hasn't because it is still there so much, but it is less.  I am thankful for that.  Our house remains peaceful, I am most thankful for that.  This past week, I have finally felt able to cook dinner and clean the house.  It amazes me to have the energy for that stuff.  It was so easy to chalk it up to just being tired because my days have been so busy and Chris has been on the road so much, but when the heaviness lightened just a bit, the energy that was going to carrying that weight is freed up.  I was starting to wonder how I ever did those things (make dinner, keep a clean house, etc).  I hope that my energy levels don't drop away like that again.  All of this feels like it has been coming in such waves.  Waves of feeling ok, waves of feeling awful.  It reminds me of when you're feeling really sick and then you get a little wave of feeling ok and you know that it's the beginning of your body winning the fight.  My hope is that the waves of good will get longer and longer and the waves of heaviness will get shorter and shorter.

The one thing that I don't think has budged much is the guilt and shame about how my mom must be feeling.  I feel awful.  I am always only one thought away from that feeling of electricity through my heart and body, panicking about what I am doing to her (where anxiety has dimished in other areas, the anxiety I feel over this makes up for it).  My counsellor keeps telling me I'm not doing anything to her, that I am not responsible for her happiness, etc.  That is not sinking in.  I really need to find my way through this part.  I know that my mom isn't able to see it.  She isn't able to ever truly understand.  Her reality is that I have betrayed her and absolutely shattered her.  I grew up believing I was responsible for her, it is not an easy task to shake that belief.  I worry sometimes that you can't shake something that forms a part of your identity.  I think taking care of her may be a part of my identity.  I hope I am wrong about that.  And if not, I need to learn how to change things that grew one way when they are already solidified that way.   The one thing that gives me hope in this area is how much I split away from her at a young age and how willing I have always been to fight for what is most important to me.  I have broken her heart many many times, according to her.  This is just the first time I think I actually feel responsible.  This is the first time I can't seem to write it off as not my responsibility to make her happy in whatever way I was letting her down.  I guess that is where I start.  I need to understand that it is not my responsibility to give her my daughter, despite any dysfunction, despite any abuse.  I need to feel what I intellectually know.  Abusing me was abusing my daughter and the signs of inappropriateness with my daughter were written clearly on the wall.  I need to somehow forgive myself for letting her get attached to my daughter and then taking her away.  I did feel responsible to provide her with the experience of being a grandmother.  Every time  I think that I shouldn't have ever let her be in my daughter's life, I know I could never find peace without seeing what happened happen.  I would have wondered if she would have been the way she is with other kids she is close to.  It had to happen this way.  Or at least, it did happen this way.  So now, I just want to ask for the way out of all the guilt and shame of making this decision.

Working Through It

Yesterday I had my second counselling session.  It felt like such a relief to let some of it out again.  It felt like a relief to be in a room that is meant for that.

The two most impactful things that happened in that room yesterday were:

1.  She told me that it would not be appropriate for Ivy to be in my mom's life unless/until she can maintain a healthy relationship with me.  I don't know why I need permission for keeping Ivy from my mom, but I do.  I have been questioning all of my own decisions and assessments so much these days.  It felt so good to hear a professional say that it is an appropriate course right now to keep going exactly as I am as far as contact with my mom goes.  She encouraged me several times to stay the course in that way and when I referred to Ivy as an anchor that kept me from opening the door back up to my mom (which I desperately want to some days), she was supportive of me not opening the door and glad that Ivy served as an anchor to stop me from giving myself the relief that that move has always provided (the easiest part of our cycle where we leave the struggle behind and things are okay for awhile).

2.  She asked me if I am struggling with guilt or shame.  I realized what a distinct difference there is in those two things and also realized that I struggle with both.

It has been hard to define what I am feeling.  I was trying to ask a question and her answer kept telling me that I wasn't asking the right question.  The answer she was giving was one I knew, and the answer to what I really wanted to ask, I do not know.  I tried again and I don't think I even knew until that moment what I was struggling with so much.  I asked her if by angering with my mom and being a part of it in that way, what was my role in it?  How dysfunctional am I?

Our cycle always seemed to have a very similar theme to it.  There was something that my mom wanted to control or there would be a boundary I was requesting that she was resisting.  She would try to achieve a change in my feelings/decision/actions/request of boundary by shaming me and/or stating that my request for a boundary did not come from a valid place.  There was no problem.  Or I was the problem. Or where there was no way to deny the problem, I just needed to get over it, and she would deflect that problem and her responsibility in it by bringing up a host of things that were her go-to for when there was no where else to go.  Over the last few years, those things usually included comments about my husbands family, comments about how everyone has to get help because of me, telling me my brother had to see a therapist and told them that he feels like a bad person and like he doesn't deserve love (she never outright said that it was because of me, but the inclusion of that statement always right after telling me that everyone has to get help because of me always suggested that to me), a comment or two suggesting that other people feel the same way as her (i.e.; "Aunty Dar and I just didn't know what to make of your invitation to Ivy's birthday" or "we were all talking about it and none of us could believe that you didn't say goodbye to your brother at Ivy's Christening").  Always in a bewildered, innocent, concerned or disapproving tone.  I would usually know that she was not being truthful in stating things like that, but even still, that line began to blur by the end and she had me believing that many people do take issue with me over things that probably only she really cares about.

Weeks or months would go by while the tension between us would build.  I would begin to pull away.  My pulling away would ignite the worst behaviour from her, she would start pulling out all the stops.  At the worst of times, she would bring other people into the fold and begin to manipulate other people's perception of me or willingness to see me if she couldn't.  There were times she would refuse to see my daughter (each time in protest of not getting to baby-sit) and at those times, she made other people feel guilty if they saw her.  The more I would try to distance myself, the less she would let it go.  The phone calls, texts and emails would increase.  Eventually, I would feel so trapped and upset and it would become too much for me.  At that point, usually there would come a time where I would confront her and I would do it from a place of feeling trapped and angry.  I would try to hold her accountable to what she had been doing.  She would deny, deflect, invalidate, etc. Every time it came to the point of confrontation, I would go into it committing to myself to remain calm, not let her get to me and just firmly state my boundaries and get out of there.  Almost every time, I would fail.  She would act completely bewildered, tell me she was concerned about me and that she thinks I need help, she would accept responsibility for her actions in a way that would make me look completely irrational (i.e. I'm sorry, you father and I thought that keeping medications that are in childproof containers up on the second shelf was okay.  I made a mistake, my bad!" - when the whole fight was about leaving heavy duty medications in flip top lids right on the counter time and time again after excessive requests not to, baggies with pills in them in the medicine cabinet, pill bottles with the lids not even on, and plenty of additional medications all on the bottom shelf, well within my daughter's reach).  She would make me feel like my reality did not exist and that she was bewildered about what this was all about.  That months of tensions mounting was all over something that I must have imagined or just simply don't remember right.  Some things she would just deny.  "I didn't hang up on Chris on Ivy's birthday!!  I called and sang happy birthday to her!"  I would eventually just lose it in frustration and I would yell at her.  I would say all the same things, but I would yell them.  She would often at that point do things like hit herself over and over saying she was stupid.  She would yell back at me, "I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY!! WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY?  I WAS AN AWFUL MOTHER.  I SHOULD JUST GO AWAY!!"  This was the point where she would sometimes yell that she had been abused and secure her place as a victim.  At the worst of times, she would threaten to kill herself.  She would end up in the bathroom with the door closed, wailing.

After those encounters, we usually wouldn't speak for awhile.  Our contact would be limited for about a week usually and then she would start contacting me wanting to just act like things are okay again and I would eventually give in and let it get brushed under, unresolved.  I would feel guilty for having hurt her and taken her to the edge like that and that guilt would make me let go of whatever I had been fighting for.

These encounters have been a regular occurrence since the time I have been pregnant with my daughter.  They were a regular occurrence at other times of my life as well, but they have not been as bad as the last 3 years since I lived at home.  They have become like clockwork.  The whole cycle usually would take about 3 months or less to run its course and it would happen over and over and over.  Now, standing on the outside of it for a couple of months, I need to know what part of that dysfunction is mine to own.  I don't think I can find peace until I do.

I am so grateful to have the space and support to go through this.  I am ready to tackle it.  It is scary, but I know this will sink me if I do not dig very very deep and get rid of what I never truly realized had seeped in so much - shame.

I'm Ready

I have been ruminating too much.  It keeps me up at night and it is not productive.  Yesterday I had lunch with a friend and talked, let it out of my head and into the air and felt such a difference.

I am trying to look at when it is the hardest and why.  When I am alone, it is the hardest.  When my husband is home, it feels easier.  When I talk about it, I get some relief.  I am realizing I need a structured plan in place.  I can't let days and weeks go by without letting it out.

I think I avoid writing when things feel the worst.  I don't know why.  I find it easier to write when I have moments I can find some beauty in.  Writing from the hardest places seems scary.  Talking from those places is easier.  So, I need to talk more.  I need to try to write even when I don't think I can find beauty in what I have to say.  I need to find a good therapist who can see me through the next couple of years.  It is not going to be easy.  I never thought I could do it.  I can't say it is easier than I thought it would be.

I keep comparing how I feel to an emotional prison.  When my mom was in my life, I often felt trapped.  It felt like I couldn't live my life in peace with her in it and I knew that the weight, the pain and the guilt of cutting her out of my life could possibly sink me.  It left me feeling like I had nowhere to go.  Over my daughters first 3 years, I began to see that I had yet another anchor that was working a hook into me.  I was allowing dysfunction into my household and it was affecting my daughter and if I were to allow myself to be in denial about that, I would be repeating the cycle and I know I can't live with that.

So now I sit, on the other side of the prison wall, still trapped and I know that it will be up to me if I stay there.  I don't expect to feel free now, but I need to get there.  I need to work so hard to get through this.  To deal with the grief and the guilt and free myself somehow.  I know better than to think that you can sacrifice more than you can afford without your child paying a price.  If I can't move through this, despite my best intentions, my daughter still loses.  I want her to have a childhood free of adult issues.  I want her to have a mother she doesn't feel responsible for.  A mother she knows is happy and strong.

These days, it doesn't feel like I am moving through it.  It feels like I am staying in the same spot and I need to change that.  I am ready to deal with it. Head on.  And I need help.

So, today I will start looking for that help.  The counsellor I have now is covered by the province but is also limited to 8 sessions.  Session #2 is tomorrow.  I have to find someone who can see me through this longer term.  Someone amazing.

Grace

Over the holidays we went to BC to see my husband's family.  His grandfather is sick.  He won't be getting better and we have been meaning to go for years.  So we went.  So that my husband could see his grandpa one more time and introduce him to our daughter.

We flew to Terrace and then drove from there.  We drove through the mountains after a lot of snowfall and the beauty of it kept lifting away the heaviness of the days before.  The excessive gifts from my mom with notes attached "Why me?", little frowning faces, question marks, hopes that I could work through my troubles, etc.   I just looked out the window, astounded at the beauty before me and allowed the miles between there and home wash over me.  It felt like a relief to be so far away.

When we arrived at Gran's house, I could tell it was worse than we thought.  She was out of sorts.  She couldn't really be present with us.  She was losing her husband.

As our short visit progressed, I asked Gran how she met her husband.  They met at a party.  She wasn't interested in him, it was her sister that seemed to hit it off with him.  But that didn't work out, and they just kept running into each other at parties and ending up together.  I wanted to get some stories from her about them for my husband.  His Grandpa was not able to communicate the way we hoped and I wanted Chris to come away with something to hold onto.  His gran instead began to tell us what an abusive relationship it was.  Without getting into details, she made it clear that he had hurt her in many ways.  For decades.  Right up until he was diagnosed with cancer, at which point he quit drinking, which had always been the trigger of the abusive behaviour.

It was hard to hear her talk about it all.  Hard because I knew it was hurting Chris and hard because it was a lifetime of pain, all just spilling out as if it couldn't stay in.  She was about to lose him, and she was still hurting from all he had done.  What struck me was that she was still there.  She didn't want to be away from him.  She wanted to go back to the hospital and once she was there, she didn't want to leave.  She loves him so much.  She is loyal still.

Everywhere we went, I saw the same things.  Evidence of abusive cycles.  Some having improved, some having ended, some continuing on and being passed to a new generation right before our eyes.   But everywhere, I could see it.  I could feel it.  Sadness.  Anger mellowed out into other things.  Fear.  Loss.  Tragedy.  So much more than I have been through, and still they were there for each other.  Maybe not as much as I think.  Maybe a snapshot is not enough to tell.  Maybe I don't know if it's good or bad, but I just felt something I can't easily access.  I don't know what it is..  Acceptance maybe?  Grace for one another, despite it all.  I wondered at how they were all still in it together.  All at their different stages of recovery and abuse.  They all still gathered together.  And I can't.  I fear running into my mom at the grocery store.  I don't know what that makes me feel.  I don't know if that break in me is what saves me or if that will be where I one day will feel weakest.

I remember when I first met her and saw this photo hanging in her dining room, I saw quiet strength.  I was relieved to find it downstairs when I didn't see it when we arrived this time.  When I see this photograph now, I still see strength, but I also see vulnerability.  Sadness.  I see acceptance of harder things in life than I have ever known.  I see all she was holding on her shoulders.  I see grace.  I think I saw it all last time too, but didn't know why.

By the time we were leaving, I could tell that she didn't want us to go.  I didn't really want to go either.  I felt like there was something I needed to learn from her.  From all of them.  I wasn't ready to come home.  Part of me wanted to change our trip.  Be there when my husband's grandpa dies.  Go to the funeral.  See how they love.  See how they grieve.  Try to understand how you get through it all.

We came back as planned.  My dad came by on New Year's Day.  I wasn't home, but called him back.  It felt so good to hear his voice. It was the best gift I got.

Here is to Peace

It is strange to enter a new year in the midst of such a difficult transition.  I am used to the new year being a time for that feeling of a clean slate.  I am trying to feel that, but I have to admit it is muddied by the situation with my mom.  I know there is more to come.  I dreamt of her last night.  I dream of her relatively often these days and it is always the same.  I am leaving and she is doing all she can to make me feel as low as she can in hopes that maybe she can break me into staying.  It's the only way she knows.

In the spirit of the new year, I will say that the past few days I have been feeling a slight improvement in my ability to see that it had to end.  Not one of those days that my mind gives me a break and I feel relieved and free for a bit.  Just a slight lessening in the things I struggle with about it.  The slightness about it makes me feel like it is the kind of change that stays.  I tend to torture myself a bit, questioning if I am just too sensitive. If it really was my fault, if I brought it on myself by not just going along with her.  By not just giving in a little more often.  'Other people are able to have her in their life without this happening, maybe it is me' kinds of thoughts..  And it is true, I fought her more.  I didn't do what she wanted.  I stood my ground while others gave in.  But I know in my heart that I had to fight for myself.  No one else was and I don't know who I would be if I had tried to be who she wanted.  It is this kind of thinking that has lessened, just a bit.  I am grateful.

So as I enter a new year, I want to try to be kind to myself.  Gentle on myself.  I can tell even in typing that that there is a part of me that doesn't believe I deserve that because of what my mom is going through and how I feel responsible.  So, I will work on it.  I will try to take into my heart what those who are closest to me tell me - I am not doing this to her.  She has created her life and I am not responsible for her happiness or sadness.  It's a tough one but I am going to try to get there.

So, here is to quiet. Here is to kindness.  Here is to forgiveness.  Here is to peace..

Happy New Year :)