Next Tuesday, I will see my mom for the first time in nearly 2 years. The power of that fact is greater than I would prefer. I always want to be okay. I think I am, but know that on some level, I'm not. What I am is coping. In some ways well, in other ways, not so well.
I have no idea what Tuesday will bring. All of the fears of running into her at the grocery store, all of the anxiety and determination of maintaining this separation, will at least for 50 minutes, be shattered. I will have to face her. I will have to see her eyes. Another version of me thinks, I will get to see her eyes. This is so painful.
I love my mom so much. It's like a tidal wave, and it's not good for me. It's hurt me so much in the past. I don't know how I will feel to see her. How I can possibly keep my resolve, with her looking at me, pleadingly, telling me that she is so sorry..
My therapist said that my mom knows that her illness has hurt me. This is so fucking confusing. I don't know what I will do.
When I told two of my closest friends about the meeting, they quickly gathered me up, the future me, the Tuesday me. They made a plan for us to go for dinner after the meeting. They held me up, in advance. I cried then and cry again to write about it. I am so lucky to have them. I am so, unbelievably grateful.
The intensity of the pain that I am feeling is unexpected to me. I don't know what I expected, but I didn't expect to feel.. this.. It feels the same as when your heart is broken. It feels like I lost my mom to death, and will get to see her one last time. Just like how unbelievably fortunate and painful that would be. Except that it can't be that clean, pure pain. It is not a heartfelt reunion. It is tainted with guilt, with past traumas, and with very diluted anger. Above all of that, love does seem to rise. She is not gone, she is still here. I still have a chance to see her eyes, that mother who despite it all, I do love...
This is heartbreaking..
Wednesday 23 August 2017
Wednesday 2 August 2017
The Truth Is
The meeting with my parents is approaching. It is not scheduled yet, but will be soon. I feel calm. I want to reflect on what I want to say to them. Sometimes it hits me, out of the blue. What I want to communicate. Those thoughts are like small, polished stones among a beach of rocks. I catch sight of one, but then it quickly gets lost among the overwhelming amount of rocks around it. Most of my thoughts are those rocks. They are what I know so well. Defence, defence. Trying to explain it. Trying to justify who I am, what I feel or what I believe. And then there are those little polished, calming stones that are simply the truth. I have several weeks to sort through the rocks to find those stones and the resolve to leave those rocks behind, for good.
The truth is, I can't explain it anymore.
The truth is, I won't put them before Ivy. I view any relationship with them with the understood risk that it may end again. I am not willing to put Ivy in a position to have to lose them all over again so she will not be a part of the equation without the confidence that my mom understands. In the same spirit, my aunt is welcome back in our life if she is willing to have a relationship with us independent of my mom and can commit to not abandoning us if we need to resume no contact with my mom. I feel like my dad should fall under the same category, but don't trust he could do it. These thoughts always lead back to me knowing in my heart that contact holds the potential to do more harm than good.
That leads me to my next truth. I believe contact will be better for my mom than for us. It puts my family and I in a position that could really hurt us. The truth is, I don't feel comfortable opening the door for my mom's sake, when Chris, Ivy and I may suffer the consequences.
The truth is, I can't handle any more high intensity stress. It has affected my health, both physically and mentally. My goal is to be the strongest, healthiest and happiest mama to my girl that I can, as well as to be the same for my husband who has stood by me through years of intense stress. I will not allow anyone into my life who threatens those things.
The truth is, I didn't like who I was when I was still in contact with my mom. I so often had to fight for myself, for my rights to be who I am, for my right to live my own life, for my right to make decisions as Ivy's mother. I cannot fight anymore. I will not have a relationship where there is room for that. That would mean not being alone with my mom, not allowing access to my cell or email and limiting contact to scheduled, agreed upon times.
The truth is, I cannot re-open that door without the confidence that my mom has a sincere understanding of why this happened in the first place. It is the only way I believe that it could ever be any different.
The truth is, there may be a time when I could accept her back into my life (with very strict and enforced boundaries) if she doesn't have a sincere understanding of why we are here, but that time is not now. I am not ready.
The truth is, I can't explain it anymore.
The truth is, I won't put them before Ivy. I view any relationship with them with the understood risk that it may end again. I am not willing to put Ivy in a position to have to lose them all over again so she will not be a part of the equation without the confidence that my mom understands. In the same spirit, my aunt is welcome back in our life if she is willing to have a relationship with us independent of my mom and can commit to not abandoning us if we need to resume no contact with my mom. I feel like my dad should fall under the same category, but don't trust he could do it. These thoughts always lead back to me knowing in my heart that contact holds the potential to do more harm than good.
That leads me to my next truth. I believe contact will be better for my mom than for us. It puts my family and I in a position that could really hurt us. The truth is, I don't feel comfortable opening the door for my mom's sake, when Chris, Ivy and I may suffer the consequences.
The truth is, I can't handle any more high intensity stress. It has affected my health, both physically and mentally. My goal is to be the strongest, healthiest and happiest mama to my girl that I can, as well as to be the same for my husband who has stood by me through years of intense stress. I will not allow anyone into my life who threatens those things.
The truth is, I didn't like who I was when I was still in contact with my mom. I so often had to fight for myself, for my rights to be who I am, for my right to live my own life, for my right to make decisions as Ivy's mother. I cannot fight anymore. I will not have a relationship where there is room for that. That would mean not being alone with my mom, not allowing access to my cell or email and limiting contact to scheduled, agreed upon times.
The truth is, I cannot re-open that door without the confidence that my mom has a sincere understanding of why this happened in the first place. It is the only way I believe that it could ever be any different.
The truth is, there may be a time when I could accept her back into my life (with very strict and enforced boundaries) if she doesn't have a sincere understanding of why we are here, but that time is not now. I am not ready.
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