My mom. How I wish I could say she is my protector, my supporter, my rock, my role-model. She used to be all those things but that was before, before the family drama, before my sisters’ lies, before the estrangements. Now? Now it feels like she is just the woman who raised me, nothing left of the mother I used to love and adore.
I keep trying to look back and figure out how it all came to this. Sometimes I like to think the answers can’t be found, that it was simply a bunch of random events that made it happen. But I know that isn’t true in this case; it wasn’t random at all. Instead it was cause, influenced, by those who wished me harm, my sisters to be precise. Even with that though, I still can’t figure out how the mother that knew me best, the mother that was closer to me than any of her other children, how that mother, my mother, bought into it, took it in, believed it. It still hurts deeply if I let it, which is rare and minimal, but not allowing myself to feel that pain is unhealthy; I know this. I just can’t let myself go there yet – the pain would be so great.
I find myself wondering at times if my mother was really ever the mother I had her cracked up to be. I know she did support me a lot and used to always be there for me. It hasn’t been till the estrangements that I have looked back in my memory and noticed some things, some signs, some foreshadowing perhaps. I was a mistake baby – my father had a vasectomy that didn’t take. They made a choice to not have any more children but along I came anyway. I used to think I was a gift but now I think I was a curse. I have few memories of growing up, lots of blank spaces in my brain, but I do remember some things vividly: being teased at school for wearing the same clothes every day (while my oldest sister got a new bedroom set and a ski trip); being teased in gym class for not wearing a bra well after developing breasts (my mom didn’t take me to buy one till well after I needed one); never being introduced to sports or other activities (all my siblings were involved in sports and my parents were even the coaches); being taken to a therapist who stated I was a normal teenage (but my mom said he didn’t know what he was talking about); I wasn’t taken to the dentist till I was 16 years old and I needed braces but never got them (my siblings have such nice teeth); and the worst of them all, she protected my sexual abusers, my father and brother, instead of protecting me. Is all this chance, irrelevant, or did my mom harbor some kind of resentment towards me? I was told by them that they didn’t want me when they first found out she was pregnant (even if it’s true – who tells there child that?); maybe she subconsciously kept feeling that way? I told on my abusers; I upset the family – did I ruin my mom’s life, her world as she had known it? Did she somehow hate me for that? I feel like the child no one actually wanted, forgotten about in many ways.
And then the way she believed my sisters, the way she turned on me, the way she for the first times ever yelled at me in anger – did her feelings from the past make it easy for her to do? I still to this day can’t figure it out. I always thought it was her mind that we noticed was starting to slip a little. But once she moved to a different house, one without dampness, darkness and mold, her mind and thinking came back to her. So that can’t be it. How does a mother who knew me so well, knew the type of person I was, how does she suddenly believe the opposite? How does she, who spoke with me so very often, who discussed everything with me, suddenly not call to ask or inquire about what was going on between my sisters and I? I remember a few calls where she was so angry with me and yelled at me and none of what she was saying was even true – the pain I felt from that is indescribable, there are no words. When the calls were over, I threw the phone down or across the room, like it was stinging me and I had to get it out of my hands, and my body would hit the floor in one big boom as the tears fell uncontrollably.
After enough of this, I estranged myself from my mom. After some time had passed, I went to visit her in an attempt to try to fix our relationship, hoping she would finally ask, maybe even apologize, something I was even willing to do if we could just talk everything out. It was a huge mistake and it broke me a little. I wrote about it in detail in the following post:
After that, I spoke with my mom by phone rarely, usually on a holiday, more out of a sense of obligation than desire.It was always me that called and the anxiety I always felt was overwhelming. Then when my son needed surgery and it was my mom who called to tell me about it (not my son) and she didn’t ask if I would be okay or how I was doing, the final piece of my heart broke. I haven’t called her since then, not even on holidays, even though I have sent flowers. I can’t do this anymore – the pain will eventually kill me. She said once that she didn’t know why I distanced myself from her, but how can she not? You can’t tell me that she doesn’t remember siding with my sisters without even talking to me, that she doesn’t remember yelling at me over and over! And the more and more I see her support for my brother, my abuser, the more I feel let down by the woman who is supposed to be my mother, who was supposed to protect me.
It is time for me to make a decision. The wedding is in two weeks, the last time I will have to see my mother and my brother (I am already totally estranged from my sisters), and after that I want to let go – to estrange 100%. I think I need to in order to finally move forward and find a life separate from all the pain and negativity. If I can just deal with the guilt…