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..
Thursday 28 January 2016
Wednesday 27 January 2016
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..
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..
Friday 22 January 2016
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.
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.
Saturday 9 January 2016
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.
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.
Thursday 7 January 2016
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.
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.
Saturday 2 January 2016
Grace
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.
Friday 1 January 2016
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 :)
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 :)
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