Mother's Day
Mother's Day
- Thread starterSick Puppy
- Start date
MY mother died when I was 25 (27 years ago), and it was a relief.
She was no longer around to poison the relationship with my new fiancee of one week.
She would never meet her grandchildren, and I would never have to protect them from her.
I did have to protect them from her poison that lived within me. The everpresent self loathing that she taught me so well was a constant threat, to my family, and to my wellbeing.
To learn to treat myself as if I mattered felt like It was an endeaver of pure alchemy,... like turning lead into gold.
To be gentle with myself back then meant not killing myself today.
I did not percieve suicidal thoughts as part of the equation working against the notion of being gentle with myself. I believed I deserved to die. She taught me to believe this about myself by what she did to me.
To turn this around I had to learn what happened to me which is difficult enough in, and of itself.
The tortuous part for me was to unlearn what I had learned from her, which is giving up the unstable props that barely held me up if at all (ie.sexual addictions,obsessive compulsions etc.)
To feel the real pain of what happened and not numb out is both the good news and the bad news of my recovery.
Allowing the wound to heal by draining all the pus, leaves me a wound that can then heal properly. Having done this, some desensitization by telling my story over and over, and over,and over again, has finally set in.
Tomorrow I may have to start almost all over again. But every time I recover from a shame spiral, the next one is a little less devastating.
This healing process is directly against the lessons she taught me.
I used to believe I was the mistake at birth, but I know the mistake that was made in my life was her doing not mine. I had no skills for dealing with what she dealt me.
I'm now my primary caregiver, and I seem to be doing good enough.
I know the parenting I gave my daughters was far better than the parenting I rewcieved.
I had lost any sense of having a loving protective mother long,long before she died.
Again it was a relief when her life ended.
The twisted love loyalties took years to untangle and I'm not done yet..
I've just learned to live with the pangs of almost feeling like an ungrateful son, and of mourning the loss of what wasn't.
She was no longer around to poison the relationship with my new fiancee of one week.
She would never meet her grandchildren, and I would never have to protect them from her.
I did have to protect them from her poison that lived within me. The everpresent self loathing that she taught me so well was a constant threat, to my family, and to my wellbeing.
To learn to treat myself as if I mattered felt like It was an endeaver of pure alchemy,... like turning lead into gold.
To be gentle with myself back then meant not killing myself today.
I did not percieve suicidal thoughts as part of the equation working against the notion of being gentle with myself. I believed I deserved to die. She taught me to believe this about myself by what she did to me.
To turn this around I had to learn what happened to me which is difficult enough in, and of itself.
The tortuous part for me was to unlearn what I had learned from her, which is giving up the unstable props that barely held me up if at all (ie.sexual addictions,obsessive compulsions etc.)
To feel the real pain of what happened and not numb out is both the good news and the bad news of my recovery.
Allowing the wound to heal by draining all the pus, leaves me a wound that can then heal properly. Having done this, some desensitization by telling my story over and over, and over,and over again, has finally set in.
Tomorrow I may have to start almost all over again. But every time I recover from a shame spiral, the next one is a little less devastating.
This healing process is directly against the lessons she taught me.
I used to believe I was the mistake at birth, but I know the mistake that was made in my life was her doing not mine. I had no skills for dealing with what she dealt me.
I'm now my primary caregiver, and I seem to be doing good enough.
I know the parenting I gave my daughters was far better than the parenting I rewcieved.
I had lost any sense of having a loving protective mother long,long before she died.
Again it was a relief when her life ended.
The twisted love loyalties took years to untangle and I'm not done yet..
I've just learned to live with the pangs of almost feeling like an ungrateful son, and of mourning the loss of what wasn't.
Josh wrote
Bowman wrote
MrDon wrote
This thread and the "My So-Called Father" thread...
Between these two, I've got to be soooo f'in careful cuz they tunnel down to what defines what happened to me. I just can't go into my black hole of relational lack of bonding with another human being; the lack of being able to trust and and bond with and sustaint a meaningful relationship be it friends or lover -
This, to me, far more than any physical, emotional, sexual abuse - this is the most devistating consequence of my family of origin. Oh how I envy so many here who have families of their own (good, bad, divorced, whatever); at least you were able to play the game that far.
I can't find the third thread that turned into more deep deep stuff about the inner emptiness, where is it? As I posted somewhere else, lost that one too, this is stuff I can only process in T sessions, which I've been doing like with incredible intensity these past couple of months. There are memories and feelings inside that I can't let loose, least they cause my total destruction.
jer
Josh, I understand this cuz I wonder the same thing.
Bowman wrote
It makes complete and total sense to me now, at this crap stage of "recovery" I'm in.
MrDon wrote
Everyone else who wrote - I don't have the gumption to reply the way I'd like to, sorry guys.
This thread and the "My So-Called Father" thread...
Between these two, I've got to be soooo f'in careful cuz they tunnel down to what defines what happened to me. I just can't go into my black hole of relational lack of bonding with another human being; the lack of being able to trust and and bond with and sustaint a meaningful relationship be it friends or lover -
This, to me, far more than any physical, emotional, sexual abuse - this is the most devistating consequence of my family of origin. Oh how I envy so many here who have families of their own (good, bad, divorced, whatever); at least you were able to play the game that far.
I can't find the third thread that turned into more deep deep stuff about the inner emptiness, where is it? As I posted somewhere else, lost that one too, this is stuff I can only process in T sessions, which I've been doing like with incredible intensity these past couple of months. There are memories and feelings inside that I can't let loose, least they cause my total destruction.
jer
2004 The pain of this day is still present for those of us whose bonds with our parents were severed by abuse.
I have reread the posts and notice how much I missed. Had I been able to, sickpuppys initial post could have helped me realize how I tried to force my kids to honor their mother for my own reasons (see other post Mother's Day 2002-2003-2004)
Now I shall make a Journal entry for this day to allow myself to speak as much truth as I can and perhaps I will look back next year to see something helpful about my journey.
My own journey brings me to face with the way in which, as a child and as an adult, I have never allowed anyone to get close to allow any bonding. I struggle with it even now, as I am trying to accept my T as a person to feel her compassion and to build trust with her. It is a slow process. I am living with the hope that once I have accomplished even this little bit of letting someone in, I will be able to allow it with others in the rest of my life.
I am overwhelmed in therapy as I begin to discover the depth of ways in which I live in disassociation Almost total inability to be in the present using the protection of altering my sense of time physical self awareness (almost non existent) or avoiding feeling anything. I never see myself as an adult. I difficult to feel emotions from the present. I have no sense of my body. A total system of protection walling out life, any hope of relationship/bonding and being facing the realities of the present.
I believe this is the hardwiring of my brain from my childs mind effort to survive the unacceptable world I lived in beginning at infancy and lasting throughout my whole life. These defenses served me then. Nowthey are like the considerable extra weight around my middle which I carry around comfortable habits used as armor against the feared discomfort of reality I can not allow the childs rage toward his mother to surface to place the blame from its suicidal focus on me to my mother. I would surely kill her for what she did. Then I would truly be a motherless child and the complex world view of myself to which I desperately clung, would tumble down into nothingness. I would be cast into the abyss a desperate child with no sense of self with no family-parents-self on which to rely. This is the true harvest of parental sexual abuse of this infant which destroyed his/my sense of self. It is so frightening
But nothing could be more wrongno amount of pain in the present could be worse than the cumulative effects of this denial system on my life. I will push on. I have no choice. My brothers here will listen, my therapist will listen and so must I to the hidden truths beneath my tenuous facade
It feels good to speak this truth and it is the truth of this day, in the present. Mothers Day, 2004.
I have reread the posts and notice how much I missed. Had I been able to, sickpuppys initial post could have helped me realize how I tried to force my kids to honor their mother for my own reasons (see other post Mother's Day 2002-2003-2004)
Our discussion continued examining the lack of bonding search for replacement need to rely on ourselves in adulthood. We learn so much from each others paths to recovery. I thank each of you.
Now I shall make a Journal entry for this day to allow myself to speak as much truth as I can and perhaps I will look back next year to see something helpful about my journey.
My own journey brings me to face with the way in which, as a child and as an adult, I have never allowed anyone to get close to allow any bonding. I struggle with it even now, as I am trying to accept my T as a person to feel her compassion and to build trust with her. It is a slow process. I am living with the hope that once I have accomplished even this little bit of letting someone in, I will be able to allow it with others in the rest of my life.
I am overwhelmed in therapy as I begin to discover the depth of ways in which I live in disassociation Almost total inability to be in the present using the protection of altering my sense of time physical self awareness (almost non existent) or avoiding feeling anything. I never see myself as an adult. I difficult to feel emotions from the present. I have no sense of my body. A total system of protection walling out life, any hope of relationship/bonding and being facing the realities of the present.
I believe this is the hardwiring of my brain from my childs mind effort to survive the unacceptable world I lived in beginning at infancy and lasting throughout my whole life. These defenses served me then. Nowthey are like the considerable extra weight around my middle which I carry around comfortable habits used as armor against the feared discomfort of reality I can not allow the childs rage toward his mother to surface to place the blame from its suicidal focus on me to my mother. I would surely kill her for what she did. Then I would truly be a motherless child and the complex world view of myself to which I desperately clung, would tumble down into nothingness. I would be cast into the abyss a desperate child with no sense of self with no family-parents-self on which to rely. This is the true harvest of parental sexual abuse of this infant which destroyed his/my sense of self. It is so frightening
But nothing could be more wrongno amount of pain in the present could be worse than the cumulative effects of this denial system on my life. I will push on. I have no choice. My brothers here will listen, my therapist will listen and so must I to the hidden truths beneath my tenuous facade
It feels good to speak this truth and it is the truth of this day, in the present. Mothers Day, 2004.