conversations with my mother (short)
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an alternative browser.
You should upgrade or use an alternative browser.
conversations with my mother (short)
- Thread starterJacob S
- Start date
focusedbody
Registrant
Jacob:
Being a mother's last line of protection is something that should be used only in the most dire of circumstances.
Unfortunately, this role can be used so frequently as to become abuse. And when the role is resisted, it's as if the world falls apart slowly and with great agony, until being that hero is taken up again.
Lately I've been slowing things down; the conversations, the thoughts and even the feelings, the agonizing, nauseating, and painful feelings. I slow them down until I am dizzy. That's when reality becomes my friend again, a cold, but faithful friend.
I'm not sure where I end up then. I feel both far away and present. I carefully plan the next conversation. Like yourself, I am wary of taking responsibility for anything but myself. But in taking responsibility for myself, I must also endure an emptiness, where something feel taken away, where my thoughts become united with the voice that wants to tell me, "its all my fault".
My guess is that this is the pain of my mother never getting from my father what she truly needed. This pain does not go away. It reveals itself with every step I take as a father and every breath I want to take as a lover.
With all that you know, I hope you can reach into yourself and remain with the gold, the treasure you were born with, that needs no explanation, no defense, and which knows what it is truly beholden to.
FB
Being a mother's last line of protection is something that should be used only in the most dire of circumstances.
Unfortunately, this role can be used so frequently as to become abuse. And when the role is resisted, it's as if the world falls apart slowly and with great agony, until being that hero is taken up again.
Lately I've been slowing things down; the conversations, the thoughts and even the feelings, the agonizing, nauseating, and painful feelings. I slow them down until I am dizzy. That's when reality becomes my friend again, a cold, but faithful friend.
I'm not sure where I end up then. I feel both far away and present. I carefully plan the next conversation. Like yourself, I am wary of taking responsibility for anything but myself. But in taking responsibility for myself, I must also endure an emptiness, where something feel taken away, where my thoughts become united with the voice that wants to tell me, "its all my fault".
My guess is that this is the pain of my mother never getting from my father what she truly needed. This pain does not go away. It reveals itself with every step I take as a father and every breath I want to take as a lover.
With all that you know, I hope you can reach into yourself and remain with the gold, the treasure you were born with, that needs no explanation, no defense, and which knows what it is truly beholden to.
FB
Hi Jacob,
I read somewhere in a post on MS an article from the 30's that narcissistic personality disorder was prevalent in mothers of abuse victims. What I get out of that is a disorder where a person can see only themselves, is not able to see, value, or validate another. That certainly is an accurate description of my mother. It was a primary feature poured into my personality--my only value was in being an object of my mother's desires. Combined with the physical violence from her in infancy and toddler-hood, and my father's physical violence which she wielded as her weapon when she became tired or frustrated with me, and there was no opportunity for a cohesive sense of me to develop.
Though I do understand she was badly damaged in her family of origin, I am able to have compassion and forgiveness for her without minimizing in ANY way the damage she did to me. When I divorced my family of origin nearly 12 years ago, she had not changed one bit. She wore the mask of motherhood convincingly most of the time, and quite convincingly whenever in public--worthy of an academy award-- however, her true nature was becoming more transparent to me as my memories of abuse came closer to the surface. Reality and truth were ultimately not meaningful to her. Only her own defensive and damaged world was real. And, unfortunately, she could only do a mostly convincing portrayal of motherhood. She never had a clue who I actually am, and only ever really cared how my public personality reflected on her.
When I left my family almost 12 years ago, I wrote a letter saying some nice things about their work in the community, but that I intended to leave the area and not see or communicate with them in this lifetime. It would take another 11 years before I began to remember the sexual abuse, physical abuse and torture from my mother. I had only just begun to remember the abuse from my father.
Six months after I left, a letter from my mother had been auto-forwarded to me. In the first part of the letter she talked about how she was always there for me and her arms would always be open to me. In the second part of the letter she talked about how the burden was just too much for her to bear, and how she had been betrayed. She said it was time I got on with my life and quit blaming my parents for my problems. I completely agreed with her on this last statement.
Don
I read somewhere in a post on MS an article from the 30's that narcissistic personality disorder was prevalent in mothers of abuse victims. What I get out of that is a disorder where a person can see only themselves, is not able to see, value, or validate another. That certainly is an accurate description of my mother. It was a primary feature poured into my personality--my only value was in being an object of my mother's desires. Combined with the physical violence from her in infancy and toddler-hood, and my father's physical violence which she wielded as her weapon when she became tired or frustrated with me, and there was no opportunity for a cohesive sense of me to develop.
Though I do understand she was badly damaged in her family of origin, I am able to have compassion and forgiveness for her without minimizing in ANY way the damage she did to me. When I divorced my family of origin nearly 12 years ago, she had not changed one bit. She wore the mask of motherhood convincingly most of the time, and quite convincingly whenever in public--worthy of an academy award-- however, her true nature was becoming more transparent to me as my memories of abuse came closer to the surface. Reality and truth were ultimately not meaningful to her. Only her own defensive and damaged world was real. And, unfortunately, she could only do a mostly convincing portrayal of motherhood. She never had a clue who I actually am, and only ever really cared how my public personality reflected on her.
When I left my family almost 12 years ago, I wrote a letter saying some nice things about their work in the community, but that I intended to leave the area and not see or communicate with them in this lifetime. It would take another 11 years before I began to remember the sexual abuse, physical abuse and torture from my mother. I had only just begun to remember the abuse from my father.
Six months after I left, a letter from my mother had been auto-forwarded to me. In the first part of the letter she talked about how she was always there for me and her arms would always be open to me. In the second part of the letter she talked about how the burden was just too much for her to bear, and how she had been betrayed. She said it was time I got on with my life and quit blaming my parents for my problems. I completely agreed with her on this last statement.
Don
Last edited by a moderator: