Progress
So. Mother's Day.
It's been a year since I spoke to my own mother. I still don't know how I feel about it - not really. It's a pretty mixed bag, emotion-wise. I am happier - that much is indisputably the case. I don't spend my time dreading the next phone call, the next visit, the next endless, poor-me monologue. I don't miss the pretence of it all being alright, when all I ever really wanted to do was ask her why? Why did she do that to us? Not just me, all of us. Her own three children, and my stepsister.
I don't know if it's the meds, or the growing-up, or the poisoned gift of last year's breakdown (a gift because it's allowed me to really think about myself for the first time in my life - who I really am, not who I tell the world this person is), but I'm starting to get a bit of a handle on the mother thing.
Having spent my entire life being the counsellor/barmaid/emotional punchbag for my mother's fractured idea of parenting, all I ever dreamed of was being free of her. When I was younger, I found this extremely hard to reconcile with the absolute longing I felt - longing to be normal, to be loved, to be a child - able to depend on her rather than her depending on me. I've struggled with that for a very long time. Having taken the decision to rid myself of her once and for all, things took a little while to settle down on Planet Surly. For years, I'd been self-destructing. I hid my distress and my pain and my worries from everybody because I've never been able to accept that I might have a voice worth hearing. I had all sorts of unsuitable outlets for how I was feeling. Nothing we need to talk about here though. Not yet, maybe not ever.
Anyway.
Since last August's meltdown, some clarity is beginning to creep in. I had only seen as far ahead as cutting my mother off. I hadn't considered at all the possiblity that I would need to mourn her. I carried on regardless, brave-facing for all I was worth. Everything was fine. Really. Until it wasn't.
I'm beginning to realise that I have every right to feel like this. I didn't ask for any of the shit I've had in my life. I didn't ask to be born to a woman who is so devoid of empathy that I'm pretty sure there's a diagnosable disorder in there somewhere. I have every right to sit here, on Mother's Day, and weep for the life I should have had.
I wonder if she had any cards today? Somehow, I think not. I don't think that makes me pleased, exactly. But as I look at my own daughter, I can see that it's no more than she deserved.
I don't miss my mother. I just miss having a mother.
It's been a year since I spoke to my own mother. I still don't know how I feel about it - not really. It's a pretty mixed bag, emotion-wise. I am happier - that much is indisputably the case. I don't spend my time dreading the next phone call, the next visit, the next endless, poor-me monologue. I don't miss the pretence of it all being alright, when all I ever really wanted to do was ask her why? Why did she do that to us? Not just me, all of us. Her own three children, and my stepsister.
I don't know if it's the meds, or the growing-up, or the poisoned gift of last year's breakdown (a gift because it's allowed me to really think about myself for the first time in my life - who I really am, not who I tell the world this person is), but I'm starting to get a bit of a handle on the mother thing.
Having spent my entire life being the counsellor/barmaid/emotional punchbag for my mother's fractured idea of parenting, all I ever dreamed of was being free of her. When I was younger, I found this extremely hard to reconcile with the absolute longing I felt - longing to be normal, to be loved, to be a child - able to depend on her rather than her depending on me. I've struggled with that for a very long time. Having taken the decision to rid myself of her once and for all, things took a little while to settle down on Planet Surly. For years, I'd been self-destructing. I hid my distress and my pain and my worries from everybody because I've never been able to accept that I might have a voice worth hearing. I had all sorts of unsuitable outlets for how I was feeling. Nothing we need to talk about here though. Not yet, maybe not ever.
Anyway.
Since last August's meltdown, some clarity is beginning to creep in. I had only seen as far ahead as cutting my mother off. I hadn't considered at all the possiblity that I would need to mourn her. I carried on regardless, brave-facing for all I was worth. Everything was fine. Really. Until it wasn't.
I'm beginning to realise that I have every right to feel like this. I didn't ask for any of the shit I've had in my life. I didn't ask to be born to a woman who is so devoid of empathy that I'm pretty sure there's a diagnosable disorder in there somewhere. I have every right to sit here, on Mother's Day, and weep for the life I should have had.
I wonder if she had any cards today? Somehow, I think not. I don't think that makes me pleased, exactly. But as I look at my own daughter, I can see that it's no more than she deserved.
I don't miss my mother. I just miss having a mother.
posted by surly girl at 5:38 pm
13 Comments:
Whatever you're doing, I think its working. Not easy though: hug.
No, she didn't get any cards!
love FifiSis xx
Better to have no mother than the one you were shackled with. Best move we ever made was cutting her poison out of our lives hon.
Hopefully me and Small Person were able to show you what a real Mother's Day was all about. It's no more than you deserve.
Ah. Painful read, hereabouts.
I wish I was as good at expressing myself as you are.
Trans-Atlantic thoughts for you. And it sounds like you're doing what's best for you and your family, and that's the best thing to consider.
That Other Half is such a catch. :)
Beautiful, heart-wrenching post, gal. I'm sorry she was so crap.
yes, thats exactly right. exactly right. this is the process of change. this stuff. the thinking and crying and mourning part. it BLOWS. and it comes to an end, eventually, and is FINISHED, and your life is better. in fact, its better now, though, isn't it? good for you. do what you have to do, as loud as you have to do it! and HUGE APPRECIATION for the support your sis and husband are giving you. as always, you've been on my mind. XOO
Aw. I'm glad you're giving yourself room to feel whatever you have to feel now.
thankyou x
one day you'll be able to forgive her. i'm pissed, btw... does it show?????
bastard bloody password and having-to-decipher-the-bastard-wobbly-letters...
Glad you're making such good progress and hope you had a good Mother's Day.
You know the one good thing though? Is that actually you can see that it's HER through and through and not you. Though undeniably and justifiably scarred, you're not letting this affect your sense of identity nor the fact that you DESERVE to be loved and she is a seriously DEFICIENT loony-tune not to feel any filial love at all. I think having your own child makes it all the more painful in that one cannot envisage not having that all encompassing love for one's child and you've come to a horrendously painful realisation that it's all her. What I would say is this - she is more deserving of pity than anything else. she will die a sad lonely old woman and in time, maybe just maybe you might be able to accept and forgive. Therein I think true healing lies xx
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