Monday, June 26, 2017

My Husband, My Father

Something I wrote back in the mid-1990s for a newsletter run by a women's shelter my son and I stayed at.

My Father, My Husband

I met him on my first day at a new job. My initial response to him was one of immediate and intense hatred. I had never had such a strong reaction to anyone before. In fact, I almost quit my job because of him; he made going to work very stressful. The only words out of his mouth were invectives spewed against the world and all its inhabitants, except for himself. He'd constantly yell and hurl things across the room; he never smiled. He only laughed at other people's pain - a real deep belly laugh. I hated him....Two years later, I married him.

Why? What happened to all the warnings my intuition had given me? We were as different as night and day. He was a macho, cocky punk - always in and out of trouble with his parents, peers, police, and supervisors. The most trouble I ever got into was not living up to my family's precarious expectations. I was sweet, quiet, and gentle. I wouldn't say "crap" even if I had a mouthful of it; whereas he lived and breathed four letter words. We were the epitome of the "odd couple."

Why did I squelch my intuition and start a relationship with him? I've asked myself that question many times. I have no intellectually based answers, only an emotional one. Subconsciously, I recognized my father.

I had always wondered why my father abandoned me, and I yearned to find him and ask him, "Why didn't you love me, Daddy?" But it was not safe to contact my father; he was diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic and had threatened to kill me. I don't remember my father; I was two years old when I last saw him. Apparently at an unconscious level, however, I knew exactly what my father was like. My subconscious made the decision to find someone just like dear ol' dad, someone who could answer the question, "Why did you leave me, Daddy?" I found my father in this belligerent co-worker; he was paranoid schizophrenic, too.

I wasn't aware of his mental illness at the time, nor how like my father he really was. I was never attracted to him; he was not my physical type. And out of more than 30 traits I desired in a potential mate, he only had one. I can't say I was drawn to him; I didn't find him the least bit fascinating. He wasn't an addiction, because even the worst addictions have some euphoric moments.

No, he was more like some sort of mission I had to complete - a mission to find out who I was. Unseen dynamics set in motion the day I met him; the little girl in me recognized "Daddy." I could now begin to unlock the mystery of who my father was, who I was as defined by my father, and what it was in me that made my father abuse me and leave me. Through this sick surrogate relationship, I could perhaps redeem my sins as a baby and become lovable. He would make it all right that my father didn't love me. He would be my panacea for all my childhood fears and failings.

My greatest fear was of abandonment. He told me he was the one who was always left in relationships; he never initiated a break-up. I knew he would never leave me; as a result, I felt safe with him - or so I thought.

The abuse started gradually. I don't think anyone knowingly enters an abusive relationship. Abusers don't show their true nature all at once; if they did, no one would want to be around them. Similarly, an animal in the wild won't step into a trap if the trap is constantly opening and closing. The animal unwittingly steps into the trap and is then enmeshed. Many times, it must chew off its limb in order to regain freedom. Often times, victims of domestic violence must amputate a part (albeit an unhealthy one) of themselves in order to break free from the emotional, psychological, and/or physical prison they're in.

My abuser slowly and insidiously took control of my life. I didn't realize how terrible things were until the very end of the relationship. Something finally clicked, and I "woke up" to the fact that my life and my baby's were in danger. Looking back, I see that my mind was actively engaged in denial; it was a daily requirement. Perhaps my mind did this in order to divert attention from the horrors surrounding me. I've read that the road to homicide is paved with denial. I'm sure that road is well traveled by many abused women.

In addition to my denial, I also didn't know what a healthy relationship looked like. All I had imprinted on my subconscious was my abusive father. Clearly he wasn't a good role. And I was always told that he loved me "in his own way." He loved me, yet he abused me; he loved me, yet he abandoned me. Because of this, I equated love with being abused. The message I internalized was that love was cruel, harsh, and punitive.

Another family member also taught me a twisted view of love. She would call me names and constantly put me down. Yet she claimed to "love" me, her little "good for nothing." The message I received from this was that love entailed constantly being criticized and humiliated. Love meant having no rights; love was conditional. I came to believe that it was my responsibility to stop the maltreatment; if only I could measure up and be good for something, I'd no longer be mistreated.

For so many years I carried all these elusive feelings just below my surface of understanding. It took the birth of my child to make me realize that it wasn't my fault my father went away; I am not responsible for another's actions. Daddies don't leave because their babies are bad. They leave because of something inside themselves, and no matter how "perfect" anyone is, nothing is going to make them change. My baby was exceptionally good natured, yet my ex still wasn't impelled to be kind and non-abusive.

Fittingly, my divorce was final on my birthday. Ah, rebirth! I am stronger and healthier now; I'll never take on another's dysfunctional baggage again. It's his/her problem to solve, not mine! I like the new me. I am wiser, deeper, and more compassionate; yet I'm also more fearful. Fearful of the day my ex will find us. I always carry with me the thought of my last day on earth; it will probably be my child's last day on earth as well. The last person we will see is him - raging and out of control. He will finally control us again by the ultimate abuse - homicide. This haunting fear is the prison I now must live in for the rest of my life.

[Note: I no longer live in fear. I have no reason to believe my ex is any less dangerous, but I won't let him control me and my feelings anymore].

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Work in Progress: That Damned Bus!

I'm a work in progress; all of us are. I've come a long way, but there are days...

One of those days, or I should say, moments, happened yesterday. We have public transportation here that is very unreliable. It's been difficult having to rely on the bus since we've been without a car for several months. The dispatcher often "forgets" to tell the bus driver to pick up my son for work, and it gets very aggravating. This particular bus system is through social services, so you'd think that they'd be conscientious in picking people up to go to work. After all, don't they want to help people get to work and keep their jobs?! Well, their actions show they don't.

Fortunately, we got a car recently and won't have to deal with them anymore. I did want to use the bus for the early morning pick ups since I'll be driving my son into work. I prefer to not make the drive cuz if it's early, I wanna go back to sleep! But by the time I get out in the car, I'm wide awake (fortunately - lol), so it's not likely I'll be able to fall back to sleep. Bah, I'm NOT a morning person.

Anyway, yesterday the bus didn't pick my son up. I called the dispatcher - the same one who took my reservation the day before, and he simply said he didn't tell the bus driver. I don't know why; this is a common occurrence, and they never offer any excuses - just that they didn't relay the pick up to the driver. Um...okay.

So the dispatcher wanted to know when my son needed to be to work by; I said 7 am. (This was around 6:20 am). He assured me that a bus would come by and pick my son up at 6:45 or 6:50 at the latest. He assured me that my son would get to work in time. Well...I should know by now not to trust them cuz they're so unreliable!

6:56 rolled by and still no bus, so I called and cancelled it, making sure to tell them how disappointed I was in their service. I also fired off an email, though I was a lot more subdued than I would've been in the past. I really do wish we could support this bus service. Like I said, I would've loved to have used them during the early shifts, but I won't anymore.

At any rate, yeah, I got very frustrated. We went out to the car, but cuz of all the sleeting going on the past couple days, the door was frozen shut. Ugh! I said "I knew I should've cleared out the garage!" so that we could get the car in. My son apologized cuz he had talked me into waiting on clearing out the garage. I sighed heavily, and we went back into the house; he called for the taxi. There was $10 we couldn't afford to piss away.

Anyway, I was far more upset at myself than at my son, and I let him know it, though I was still complaining. Needless to say, I didn't get back to sleep for a long time. Had I just stayed in bed, Tessa (the pup) would NOT have let me sleep, so I get up with my son, feed her, take her out, and wait for his ride. Well, that was the past, and from now on, I'll be driving him in.

After I had a bit of a cat nap, I did my A Course in Miracles daily study and realized...geez, how ridiculously I behaved. Part of my problem - and ACIM states you aren't mad for the reason you think - is because I often don't listen to my own inner voice. I had wanted to get the garage cleared out (it was only moving a table into the house), but I let my son talk me into waiting for a little bit longer. You see, when our family came up here from the south to visit us, they brought a lot of boxes and some furniture. Well, the south has those horrid, nasty creatures called cockroaches, and I didn't want any of them getting into my house. Since I hate cockroaches so much, I really err on the side of caution, especially after seeing one of those two inch long ickies in one of the boxes several weeks after we got said boxes! Ugh. So I figured there might be some still in some of the stuff and maybe they laid eggs in my table, and I wanted to make sure those ickies were dead from lots of freezing temps.

So we waited...and we shouldn't have.

And that's why I was really mad. Not at my son for talking me into waiting, but for myself for not listening to own inner voice.

Granted, my son gives lots of great advice - really super awesome...wow-you're-so-wise-for-you-age kind of advice. But the advice to wait was borne out of fear - my fear of cockroaches. He was only trying to protect me and my fear of those icky things, whereas my wanting to clear the garage out and getting the car in was borne of common sense. So when I have choices to make, I'll make the choice that isn't fear based from now on. And, of course, I'll listen more to my intuition. :)

As it so happened, as I was realizing all of this, my son called me during his break to apologize. Again, I had to assure him it wasn't him, and I explained my epiphany. The poor thing still has a life time of me always being hard on myself due to how I was raised, so he's kind of like that on himself. Fortunately, he's getting much better at letting himself off the hook, as a I am. But there are those moments...

The wheels on the bus go fuck, fuck you fuck, fuck you fuck, fuck you

The wheels on the bus go fuck, fuck you We won't pick you up. Toot, toot!

Monday, September 30, 2013

Going Tribal...Or Maybe Not!

I've received a lot of private feedback from my previous post on Forgiving My Mother. I know most people can't comment publicly, especially on facebook, due to their family lurking about, and I totally understand that. :)

In fact, two of my step-cousins on my mother's side of the family un-friended me on facebook within hours of my putting the link to my forgiving my mother post on facebook! I'm still quite amused by it, considering that they feel they're such very, very good christians. As I wrote in one of my comments, "...unfortunately, I grew up with a very distorted view of christians because of how unloving and un-Christ-like my mother's family is. I've also experienced a lot of abuse at the hands of so-called christian churches. I have to admit having a bias against christians because of it, which made me realize I'm being as judgmental (i.e. hating and fear-based) as they are. Fortunately, though, I've found some people who actually try to live by Jesus' teachings, and they've helped me see that there are christians and then there are Christians."

The funny thing is, my mother absolutely hates her brother and his third wife and her daughters. I grew up with a constant stream of her hate directed at them. More on that later. She also thinks they're going to "hell in a hand basket" because they're the kind of christians that writhe on the floor, foam at the mouth, and speak in tongues. It's interesting to see the various sects in christianity that think people who aren't their particular, narrow brand of christianity are going to hell.

Anyway, I digress...

A couple other people mentioned how they're not surprised that my step-cousins unfriended me because that's what has happened to them, or would, if they would write something like I did. And it brought up the ol'...

Let's not talk about the elephant in the room.

When you grow up in an unhealthy environment, you're not ever able to voice questions that maybe...just maybe...this isn't all that healthy of a family. If you do voice something to that affect, you're punished implicitly and perhaps even explicitly. You're given the message that you're not to talk about such things and to ignore reality, which can cause you to have a lot of problems later in life. After all, you were made to ignore something very real - abuse - so after awhile, you just to ignore it and your other impressions of people and situations as you go about living. That's why a lot of us grow up to marry or get involved with abusers. And that's also why we don't recognize the abuse we give ourselves - that constant stream of verbally abusive self-talk that we got a daily dose of from our family growing up.

Not talking about the elephant in the living room is also rooted in the tribal system, as Caroline Myss calls it in her book, Anatomy of the Spirit: The Seven Stages of Power and Healing. (Please note: affiliate link). When I was prompted by the Divine to write this post, I remembered her book. I thought I was writing this post for others, to let them know that hey, you know what, if you've been shunned by your family for voicing the truth of your abusive upbringing, it's okay. You're not alone.

But the divine always has a message for everyone, and what I read in the book as a refresher for this post spoke volumes to me. :)

Since I'm not sure what the magic number of words you can quote directly from a book is, I'll mostly paraphrase.

We're all familiar with tribes; in today's language, it's basically our family. Myss connects it to the seventh chakra, which is at our root/tailbone area. The very first highlighted paragraph I read for this post talked about how the tribal/seventh chakra is connected to our legs, bones, skeleton, feet, and more. How interesting that the past couple weeks I've not been able to sleep very well because my hips and back are bothering me. I do have a birth defect in my spine that often causes me pain, but I'm mostly in remission and don't have much pain if I keep active. The pain has been bothering me so much that I haven't been able to sleep much the past couple weeks.

Hmmmm...is there a connection? Me thinks there is! (Although I am taking some hormone balancing herbs since oftentimes my hormones cause my joints to hurt, but hey, as they say, there are no such things as coincidences)!

According to Myss, if I'm having problems in these physical areas, then I'm having problems with tribal issues. I will have to investigate this further. I believe I have fully forgiven them. Their unfriending me on facebook was somewhat of a surprise because I didn't think they read any of my postings. Since they consider me of the devil now and having "switched teams," I didn't think they cared to keep me in their news feed. By the way, "switched teams" is a direct quote from one of them when referring to quoting the Dalai Lama, which I often do on facebook. This, despite the Dalai Lama promoting nothing but love, compassion, and acceptance. How that can be of the devil is beyond me, but then again, it really isn't. I remember that mindset of fear when I was a christian. By grace, I was saved from that mindset. (More on that later, too)!

So, yeah, I was a little surprised that they unfriended me cuz I really didn't think I registered on their radar anymore. This despite my trying to keep in touch with them.

So have I forgiven them? Yes, they act the way they do out of fear. I'm tempted to say they act out of hate, but I've heard that the opposite of love isn't hate, but fear. That resonates with me, so I will try to use that word more often. After all, when we "hate" something, it's really because we fear it.

But despite the forgiveness I've given to that side of the family, I think I still have sadness that they never loved me, and that is something I have to work on. As a kid, all I ever wanted to do was love everyone and give everyone my sunshine, despite the horrors going on in my family.

Recently, a childhood schoolmate mentioned in a private message that one of the things she remembered about me was that I was always drawing smilie faces. I had totally forgotten about that. And then in 7th and 8th grade, the school janitor nicknamed me "Sunshine" cuz I was always smiling, even though things were getting worse at home. Even today, when I briefly worked out of the home earlier this year, one of the grumpy co-workers said: "Tracy, I don't know how you do it. You're going through so much right now, and you always have a smile on your face." (This was when we were having car problems, lost the car cuz it was too expensive to fix, and our beloved dog was dying).

So, with that in mind, I need to work on going beyond the forgiveness and work still on getting over the fact that they never loved me, as well as working on judgment. I still have a problem with people choosing fear over love. I realize on an intellectual level that we all have our own paths to take, but sometimes it's just hard to believe that when certain paths deliberately hurt others. Then I remember that I'm being just like them: dictating how people should believe and behave, despite knowing full well that the Divine Creator has given us all free choice. :)

Here are some great quotes from the book: "If we can view our tribal circumstances as 'arranged' to promote spiritual advancement, not physical comfort, we can consider painful events as being essential to our personal development rather than as punishments for our actions." (p. 123)

And:

"We must strive not to become bitter or cling to victimhood when we are betrayed or cannot attain what we want.... We need to trust that we have not been victimized at all and that this painful experience is challenging us to evaluate..." (p. 125).

Namaste,
Tracy

Please note: this post contains affiliate links.

Friday, September 27, 2013

Forgiving My Mother

It's been a long journey, nearly 5 decades, but I have finally forgiven my mother. I actually love and adore her, though I'm unable to have any contact with her. More on that later, but let's start at the beginning, shall we? Or as near a beginning as I recall. :)

But first, let me say that I've been very resistant to write this post because I don't believe in looking back once I've brought up the pain and thoroughly worked through it. A quote I've seen recently is something akin to you're on the right track if you have no desire to look back. However, I believe that the Divine Creator is asking me to write this, as I can't get away from the urging to do so. So here it is. I hope that it will help others who struggle to forgive someone, especially a parent.

I remember at around the age of five or six that I was sure...absolutely positive...that someone took away my real mother and replaced her with a lookalike - a lookalike who wasn't very nice. With the naive mind of a child, I told my mother we should have some sort of password system, so I gave her a secret password to a specific question I would ask. Since we were living in Hawaii at the time, my question was: "Who's the king of Hawaii?" Now that's kind of a silly question, because King Kamehameha was the most famous one, but that was the answer - lol! Plus, if the lookalike had already been switched in, why would I tell her the password, but that's how kids think - or at least how I thought - lol!

Later on, I learned that it was at this time that my mother had an abortion. She aborted twins who were fathered by the love of her life. She had to abort because I was a ward of the State of Nevada where she got a divorce. The love of her life wasn't going to marry her, so she would be an unwed mother, which might make her "unfit" in the eyes of Nevada, and I might be taken away from her. (This was in the early 1970s). So she had to have an abortion.

The thing is, she changed, and I think as a child, I knew that on some level - thus, my thinking that my real mom was kidnapped and replaced with a icky mom. My mother revealed that she named her twin boys. She always loved the father and never got over him. She stayed stuck in that time frame and came to see me as blocking her from being with the love of her life. She never remarried and, from as long as I can remember, never wanted to get close to anyone - whether as a romantic partner, a friend, or family member.

Photos of my dad and his brother as children, and me around 4 years of age.

I also looked a lot like my father, and since she hated him, I think she transferred that hate on to me. I wrote about my father previously; unfortunately, it was her version of my dad - the one who would kill me whenever he found me - that I grew up with. He's nothing at all like what she had portrayed. Since I grew up with her and then, as an adult, become more introspective on her behavior, I came to see that she lived/lives in her own tortured reality, where everyone and everything must revolve around her. She blames others for her pain and takes absolutely NO responsibility for any of her choices. I'm sure most of us can relate to that - not only in knowing someone like that, but also behaving like that ourselves at certain times in our lives.

Most of us go through that stage, I think. We'd rather blame others for our misfortunes and pains. They did this to me...that happened...he hurt me...she didn't support me...yada yada yada. When we become aware, it's then time for us to grow up and lay the responsibility at the right person: ourselves. Once we can realize and know that we are responsible for our own choices and lives, then and only then, can we begin to make wiser choices and lead more productive and ooooh so much happier lives.

Anyhoo...

I grew up with a very verbally abusive mother and maternal grandmother. My grandma...well...I'll write about her later. She was much easier to forgive because the dead are easier to forgive! It's the living who are harder to forgive when you have to have the scab ripped off every time you have contact with them...until you finally forgive them and their actions no longer affect you.

Anyway, my grandmother called me a "good for nothing" for as long as I can remember. She told me life would've been so much better for my mother had I not been born. I shouldn't have been born - I was made to feel that every day of my life, both from my grandmother and mother - both in actions and in words. My mother never stood up for me despite knowing full well how my grandmother was treating me.

I also lived in constant fear because my mother would have these rages and temper tantrums. Any little thing, she would fly off the handle and get on a tear, screaming and raging and blaming life and me for all her problems. I suppose looking like my dad sure didn't help the situation - lol!

She was all about appearances, and so, when I was going into high school, I had to say goodbye to my very best friend, Sandra. Sandra and I were so close that even during summer vacation, we'd write 20 to 30 page letters to one another and then see each other every couple weeks and exchange them. But since Sandra was just a "C" student, and I was on the Honor Roll, my mother said I could no longer be her friend. She felt that high school was all about who you hung out with, so she told me I could not be Sandra's friend any longer. In order to keep the peace at home and not be further bullied, I complied.

Sometimes I would be so afraid to breath, for fear she would remember I was around, that I always tried to be as quiet as possible. I didn't want her remembering I was there and tear off into a rage again.

Kids at school always said I was so quiet. Well, that's why. It was hell if I voiced an opinion...it was hell to be noticed because then I would become someone's scapegoat to everything that went wrong in their lives. It's a tough thing for a toddler to deal with...for a kid to deal with...for a teen to deal with...for an adult to deal with. But we don't have to deal with it once we choose not to, although I don't know if even a child as old as a teenager can consciously choose that yet. They have to be out on their own and not mired in the vicious vitriol that is home in order to see that that is no way to live - to see that there are other choices.

So I'll fast forward to my marriage. Just suffice it to say, I lived in a constant prison of verbal abuse my whole childhood. It's no wonder I married a man like the father my mother portrayed. She told me that the day I said "I do" was the day I signed my death sentence. Since she knew how dangerous my husband was, you'd think she would have supported me when I separated from him. It was far from the case. To illustrate...

My son and I had to move in with my mother for a month or so after the soon to be ex vacated the home we shared. If my mother had paid me the money she owed me, I could've gotten an apartment, but she didn't. However, when my son and I were able to move out, she got a cash advance on her credit card for several thousand dollars and bought a van. (That says something about her priorities right there, eh)? When I separated from my marriage, my son was 15 months old. Being such a wee fellow, he would get knocked down by my mother's big dogs (Russian Wolfhounds, aka Borzois). They weren't being mean, they were just big and wanted to play. I told them "no," never abusing them, but my mother got very mad that I would tell them that. She started complaining that my son and I should move out. She kept her dogs either in her bedroom or outside whenever my son and I were around, so I wouldn't tell her dogs no. She didn't like them being locked up either.

When I first separated, my soon to be ex said that he would change, and to prove it, he was going to enlist in the military. My mother told me to tell him that I would go back to him if he did indeed enlist, so that he would then be assigned somewhere, and my son and I wouldn't have to go. I'd get child support and insurance, and things would be peachy. So I agreed with my mother's plan, though I really didn't like pretending that.

Well, since my mother preferred her dogs over her grandson and me, after a couple weeks she told my soon to be ex that I had no intention of getting back with him and that it was all a ploy! This, mind you, was the man who threatened to kill my son and me on a regular basis. This is the man who heard voices in his head, felt imaginary things crawling and hitting him all the time, saw visions every day of some new way that I or my son and I would be killed. And he'd delight in telling me all these visions every day for the last couple months before our separation.

You can see why it would be very dangerous for my mother to tell him that I lied to him and had no intention of getting back with him!

But her dogs were far more important than her daughter and grandson.

Now I'll skip to several years later. My son and I fled for our lives to another state, and I had to call her weekly and give her the attention she demanded. If not, she'd do things to get my attention. For example, one time my phone service was out of order. Not sure what happened, but in Detroit, there was a class action lawsuit due to hundreds of us (or maybe thousands, I don't know) being without phone service for a few weeks. Because of that, I was able to get free phone service for almost a year. Anyway, I called my mother from work and told her what was going on with the phone and that I couldn't call her for awhile. After a couple weeks of being unable to call her weekly to give her attention, she wrote a letter saying that she saw my ex hanging around her mail box and she thought he might be trying to intercept mail from me to find out where I was from the postmark. Of course, she knew that would send me into a panic and PTSD and call her. She just nonchalantly said, "Oh, I don't think it was him." And that was that. She got her attention, at my emotional expense.

I was in therapy at the time, and thankfully worked through my issues with my mother, though forgiveness came later. I was NOT about to pass on the family tradition of generational abuse to my son. I can't recall what question it was that the therapist asked him, but I vividly remember her and my son on the floor, playing. She asked the question, and my son answered. I burst into tears of happiness because I realized from his answer that I had broken the cycle. The therapist looked up at me, smiling, and said: "You broke the cycle." :)

Another fast forward to around 2005. I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable playing the dutiful and loving daughter to such an abusive and unloving mother. I stopped emailing her as much as I used to. Around Christmas time, since I wasn't so quick to respond to her emails, she decided to alert the whole family and said I must be dead on the side of the road. After all, I wasn't responding to her emails right away, so I must be dead.

So the family decided to finally get in touch with me and see how I was doing. Gee, it took my possibly being dead for them to care to email!?! Yep, she's not the only unloving one on her side of the family.

My mother then called my ex-fiance (not the ex-husband), who lived in Detroit and asked if I was dead. He said no and suggested I should probably return my mother's emails a little sooner than a few days so she doesn't have her drama tantrums - lol!

So I called my mother and asked her why she didn't simply pick up the phone and call to see if I was all right, rather than telling everyone I must be dead! She said she didn't want to disturb me.

!!!!

With her latest shenanigans in mind, when I moved from Inbredville, ND to NY in 2006, I decided to not let her know where we were moving. Given her choice of her dogs over her grandson and me, given her need for constant attention, given her explicitly endangering my son's and my life by revealing to my ex that I wouldn't get back with him if he went into the military, I felt she was a danger. If I didn't give her enough attention, would she let my ex know where we were? It seemed likely, and that was not a risk I was willing to take.

So I wrote her a letter explaining my decision and why, and then I popped it in the mail as we left in our U-Haul. Well, my goodness, her actions again told the mental state she was in.

Now, as a normal mother who loves her child, you'd likely, if you received a letter from your child telling you s/he didn't want contact with you, you'd be very hurt, but you would also email (because she still had my email address) and apologize for any misunderstanding, and say that the door is always open, etc.

Not my mother.

She got on the phone with my ex-fiance (not the paranoid schizophrenic ex husband) to try and cause trouble. Her first tactic was to tell my ex-fiance, who is also a lawyer, that she was going to call the police and report a missing persons report on my son. The lawyer ex said that wouldn't work because he knew where my son was, and so did I. Her next tactic was to try to get me committed into a mental institution cuz clearly I was insane. My lawyer ex said that wouldn't fly cuz he had contact with me, and I was very sane. Her third tactic was to try to get me arrested because I left the state where I got my divorce, and that was probably against the law. Of course, she forgot the fact that she knew this for over ten years, and she also helped me move! (Aiding and abetting, anyone?) I called my divorce attorney and, since I have sole legal custody, she laughed and said I could move anywhere.

So, as you can see, my mother has left me with a lot to forgive!

And forgive, I did. Somehow I found Colin Tipping and his Radical Forgiveness: A Revolutionary Five-Stage Process to Heal Relationships, Let Go of Anger and Blame, Find Peace in Any Situation on a free spiritual telesummit. BAM! It was just what I needed, and in that moment, I forgave her. (Note: affiliate link to Colin's book).

So much so, that I tried to contact her again several times, but her email address always came back as undeliverable. I didn't feel safe calling her or snail mailing her cuz then she could see where I was at. Just because I forgave her did not mean I trusted my son's and my safety with her. (By the way, just because you do that whatever code that I can't recall now on your phone before you dial a number doesn't mean the person cannot get your phone number. If they have VOIP or a cell phone, your number WILL show up. So word to the wise...)

Last summer I got my mother's email address through someone on facebook, and I emailed her, telling her that I forgave her and that I hoped she was doing all right. I was a bit shocked - though I shouldn't have been - at her response. It was filled with such venom and hate, saying how she had done nothing to forgive and how it would take her a long time to ever trust me again cuz I'm such a manipulator!

Oh, my!

She loved calling me a manipulator ever since we both went to therapy when I was around 16 years old. She told the therapist of how, when I was ten years old, she found me in a closet trying to will myself to die. He called me a manipulator and that's how she views me. (Despite the fact that I wasn't parading around threatening to kill myself. I was hiding in my closet, trying to keep it a secret. Sure, I told her what I was doing when asked, but that's the Aquarian honesty).

Quite frankly, no therapist should've ever said that I was a manipulator, even if I did have patterns of manipulation, which I didn't. And the fact that a child of ten years of age should want to die and have suicidal tendencies means there's something desperately wrong in the home.

Anyway...

So I didn't know how to respond to her email, and I told my son. He said: "Why even respond? She'll twist everything around that you say anyway." So I didn't. A day later, since I didn't jump at her email and answer right away, she was all sweet and wrote something to the effect of "I thought we were going to put everything behind us and have a relationship. I guess I was wrong."

LOL!

Um...did you not remember the venomous email you wrote!?!

And that was that. There was no point in continuing contact since no matter what I would say, it'd be twisted around to continue to enable her very tortured and sick view of reality. :(

I still continued to choose to forgive her, even though I knew I had, but I wanted to make sure! Especially with the latest contact.

And now, this summer, as I continue my spiritual journey, I have grown to love her unconditionally, so much so that my heart bursts in love for her.

I know now that she lashes out - like many do - because of the torture and pain inside. I can't imagine living life the way she does. As the flip saying goes: "It sucks to be you!" And it would. My heart weeps for the continued pain she puts herself through. I can't imagine hating myself so much that I push everyone away.

She's pushed all of her family away. In fact, I grew up on a steady dose of how much she hates her brother and his third wife, how she hates her cousins and how rich and hoity toity they are. She hates all her "friends," what little of them she has. I always had to hear gossip about them; it never sounded as if she liked anyone. I remember when two of her good friends - a married couple - were having a baby after having two older kids. I think the younger of the two older kids was 12 or 13 when the third came along. My mom told me that when a couple decides to have another child after waiting so long, it means their marriage is a sham and they're only having another kid to try to keep the marriage together. That was the kind of thinking I was exposed to on a constant basis. No one was exempt from her gossip and negativity.

At any rate, as I said, I can't imagine living like that. Can you!?! Can you imagine being that full of fear that you push everyone away, except your dogs!?! Can you imagine!?! It boggles the mind, doesn't it? And it's so very tragic that she has chosen to be this way.

Make no mistake: she has chosen, willfully and consistently, to be this way. Most all of us have had lousy childhoods, or at least some tragedies that have befallen us, but it's what we DO with those tragedies that makes us. It's how we deal with the past that shapes how we are today - how loving we are or how fearful and judgmental and bitter we are.

That's what makes me sad for her. And when I willingly put myself in her position to try to see life the way she does, it helped me to love her all the more because she has never experienced real love before.

So that's my story in a kind of nutshell. I didn't kvetch all this just to get anyone's pity or to rehash some of what went on. I told my story to let others know that I've had a rough childhood, but I got through it and became a loving person. I had a mother that, by all accounts, has done a ton of stuff that was pretty horrid and not worthy of forgiveness. But that's just it. Maybe her actions aren't worthy of forgiveness, but she is. We're all connected through the Divine Creator. If I love her, I love the Divine, and I love me. By forgiving her, I forgive myself. By loving her, I love myself. And so I do because I could place myself in her position.

We are no different, except in the choices that we make on a daily basis.

Edited to add: I found my father several years ago. Basically, he's an ass that I have no contact with. He has his own problems and is a very selfish man who simply cannot love anyone.

(Note: this post contains affiliate links).