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.