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.