I hadn’t heard from my mother in 6 months until she called me two weeks ago, since our conversation I’ve had sleepless nights. Our talk started off okay then escalated into anger and then a shut down as she hung up.
Such a manipulative conversation, her words have played over and over in my head and made me questioned myself.. I’ve felt confused regarding forgiveness, healing, karma and have found myself in deep processing… again!!
Can I forgive? Can I just get over it?
She decided she wants everyone around for Christmas, and the real reason is about appearances. Not having some of her children there again makes her look bad to the others attending. She’s now lost two kids from the flock.. and I know even her own funeral will be starting to worry her. Yes even in death she’ll worry about what people think of her.
It didn’t help that on the phone she told me I will never ever heal unless I make up, get over it and forgive my family. She told me it’s my fault the family is suffering. This played in my head for days.. and it’s come to a head today as it’s her Birthday and I need to make decisions.
I’ve been fearing her words that I will never ever heal, after all what if there is truth in that..
But the reality is only she can heal our family, only the truth can heal our family and that’s what I mentioned to her when she abruptly hung up. She didn’t want to hear that .. or go there.
I can heal me and that’s what I’m doing. I can’t heal them and I can’t bite my tongue or hold in my anger just to make them feel comfortable. I will never do that to myself again.
So first up is I’m going to stop censoring my anger. My anger is very real. I do not like my family and love is simply not enough. Coming from a catholic background we are trained to be forgiving and over-ride our darker feelings. Fact is my mother is a manipulative bitch dressed as the sweetest kindest 77 year old woman. What my mother has done to me makes me sick to my stomach. How someone can be so deceitful is beyond me and this is a woman who attended church every Sunday.
In true form (just like my ex-husband) everything has been twisted and projected on me. The only difference now is that I simply don’t give fuck. I don’t care if I lose all of them and that’s what is worrying her. I’m stepping out for good and taking care of myself
I’m pretty sure she’s thinking two things and they’re all about her. First.. God, what will people think of me if my children don’t speak to me… and second that she wants peace and to be comfortable in her old age even if it means scapegoating me.
I will never get closure from my family because they are not up to it and I can accept that. In the past I thought I had forgiven them. I haven’t and I don’t feel I need to.
I’m over my ex. I’m not angry at him anymore but I don’t know if I forgive him, I’ll know I’ll never forgive such abuse – he has no remorse so why would he entitled to my forgiveness. If anything I pity him, he’s just a rotten apple. I’ve really stopped my focus on him, I’m over it and thankfully he’s someone else’s rotten apple now, part of my distant past just a bad memory almost forgotten.
Thoughts of him no longer bring me sadness or anger. I feel indifference, I feel nothing. It doesn’t matter anymore. I have better to look forward to.
Over time my anger will subside towards my family too, but it’s okay to feel it now. My intention is to heal, forget the past and get busy living. So family please stop wasting my time and energy.
Here’s a good post by Christina Enevoldsen on anger.
I can so relate.
Love & baby steps,
I used to have a persistent fantasy of stabbing my mother in the face. It came to me in sudden flashes accompanied by adrenaline surges. The recurring image of something so horrific was quite disturbing. I’d never consider doing anything like that; blood makes me nauseous and even hurting someone’s feelings bothers me. If I imagined doing something like that, did it make me like my abusers?
It was hard to admit something so awful, even to myself. I was taught not to ‘entertain negative thoughts’ and conditioned to judge my anger. The prescribed method for handling such unpleasantness was to ignore it and to think about nice things—nice things like envisioning treating my mom to a facial or stroking her hair. Imagining loving things while I had so much anger flowing through me was impossible. The frequency and intensity of those thoughts wouldn’t allow me to discount them. Besides, I’d closed my eyes to things long enough and that wasn’t getting me anywhere. I had to face those awful images head-on. I had to own my desires, face them without criticizing myself and find out their source. Where did that come from? What purpose did the desire serve? What was the significance of destroying my mother’s face? The fantasy was an important clue in my healing process. By examining it closely, I discovered the reasons why. I remembered an incident from my childhood sexual abuse. I was alone with my dad in my parent’s bedroom. My mom took great care in decorating the whole house, but especially their room. The bedding matched the drapes, which coordinated with the carpet. Everything was specially chosen. I sat on the edge of a raised platform that was designed to elevate their bed and make it the focal point of the room. My dad sat on the floor across from me with his collection of Playboy magazines spread out next to him. During the abuse, I looked up at the drapes and thought, even in my fourth grade mind, that appearances were all that mattered to my mom. She could make the house look like a palace, but it would always be a dungeon to me. My mom was more interested in image than reality. She chose the happy family facade rather than protecting me. My slashing fantasy was an expression of my hated for her effort to make everything look nice, rather than making it nice. Her face represented the image that was so important to her. By ignoring the unpleasant, scary flashes, and replacing them with more acceptable images, I was doing the same thing my mom did—I was decorating over the horror. My desire was a messenger, communicating my specific area of hurt. Paying attention to my anger allowed me to resolve it. The only way to resolve it was to acknowledge it and clean it out. Once I identified where my anger was coming from, it was easier to process it in a healthy way. I expressed my anger by journal writing, letter writing, (some I sent and some I didn’t), talking it out with friends, crying, shouting and pounding my bed. I worked through it until I didn’t feel anything. I haven’t thought about hurting my mom in a long time. Facing the ugly feelings was one of the best things I did for myself. It helped me to empty out another layer of anger and take another step in healing.