I'm Slowly Figuring it Out
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I'm Slowly Figuring it Out
My father did not love me or want me or like me. I wrote about him: he was an alcoholic, who knocked up a girl, married her and at 20 found himself working during the day and going to school at night. By the time I was five he was drinking steadily when at home, sullen, surly, glaring and silent (with occasional snarls). I always knew he resented me from when I was about 3.
My mother didn't and still doesn't like me. I think she loves me. I think she sort of in a detached way needs or wants me around, but she doesn't like me. And I don't think she has since I was young and my personality emerged out of babyhood.
My mother is your basic issue codependent, sure of her own wisdom, with a complete belief that she understands any situation better than anyone else and she can guide anyone into a happy life--if you'd just let her. She has appointed herself the gatekeeper of information and judgement about what is right and wrong. She is sure she loves more and and more deeply than others--at least more than me.
An example of this is last summer when my oldest AS flipped. He was detoxing from skunk cannabis and alcohol and loading up on Xanax and Adderall. He was strung out, fidgety, manic, agitated and looking for trouble. We were visiting my mother at the time. He took off and hitchhiked down an interstate, conned a friend's father into buying him a plane ticket, wandered around in the middle of the night in a inner city filled with gangs, made his way 1,000 miles from her house to mine, where he broke in, vandalized it, partied, and drove my car without a license and under the influence of pot/skunk. My car reeked of it sickeningly when I retrieved it.
I was beside myself, devastated, sick with worry and anxiety, shocked at his extreme behavior (he'd never done this before, he'd always acted out with pouting and sulking and banging things around and sarcasm). I was shredded emotionally.
She comes into the bedroom, sits on the bed and says: "I want to help." She looked me straight in the eye and said, "If anything bad happens to him, ***I*** will be devastated." And then she offered to put $6,000 towards therapy for him. But she kept saying that SHE would be devastated if anything happened to him.
It's hard to describe how she said it, but it was said in a way and with facial and hand gestures that clearly indicated that she did not think I would be able to understand how awful it would be. She could appreciate the tragedy in a way I was not able to. She would be in more pain than me, and she had to do something, because apparently I didn't care enough to save him and herself.
I don't know, it's hard to describe in words, but if I repeated it in tone and with the expression and hand gestures, you would immediately pick up on it. She clearly thought she loved him more than me and would be more hurt by his loss than I ever would. She couldn't fathom I loved my own child.
I remember just staring at her, shocked, offended, thinking: you really believe you love MY child more than I love him, that his loss would not destroy me. That you clearly think I'm just callous and shallow and shortsighted.
I just stared at her, unbelieving, and could barely speak. I finally stuttered, "I'd be devastated too if something happened to him." And she waved her hand in front of my face and brushed me off and told me that she wanted to get therapy for him and me--to fix us.
Now, you have to understand, that in the 21 years of AS's life, we only spent 7 of them even living within a thousand miles of her. She visited twice a year. I don't think she had AS overnight more than 3 or 4 times alone without me. When we visited it was always as a family, me there. When we did live in the same state, we saw each other about every six weeks. For dinner or holidays, or little league games, etc... They had a close loving relationship, but AS was not the shape of her life, like he was mine, his mother. He is my child, he came from my body, I was stay at home mom and I did more with him than my mother ever did with me. He and I were together all the time, I was room mom, team mom, he was the shape of my life when he was growing up. He started drugs and drinking at age 16; at age 14 though, he was still hugging me good night, saying "I love you", affectionate, told me everything, etc...
But she doesn't really think I would be as devastated as her, the one who really knows love.
My point is not that it is a contest of who loves more or who would be more devastated, my point is that my mother waved away, dismissed MY pain. My feelings aren't real to her, they are theoretical, they don't count; she doesn't believe I could feel as deeply as her.
The point is, she thinks I'm 'less than' her, more shallow, callous, unfeeling, unimportant. This woman who prides herself on her sensitivity, her insight, her depth can't apply any of that to me. She waves my feelings off with a hand in front of my face and an emphasis on herself. (Maybe because she can't value me, her child, she can't imagine that I would value AS, my child? I don't know).
It hurt indescribably. And was very revealing on how she views me.
Another example. A couple years ago I divorced my second alcoholic. It was a hellish marriage, filled with alcoholism, and overrun my his dysfunctional, mentally ill family and controlled by his borderline personality disordered mother. I knew before we had finished our honeymoon the marriage was a failure and I would have to divorce him. But I held on for a couple years because of the economy and there were a lot of children involved. It ended when he pushed me in a drunken rage and was followed by a nasty divorce where my XAH was as vindictive and harassing as possible. I had post traumatic stress syndrome from that marriage.
In the months of the break up and divorce, my mother on FOUR occasions made a joke, ha, ha, "You just don't do marriage well" LOL. "You shouldn't get married again ever, laughter". I was in pain and anguish and desperate at the failure of my marriage and the damage it did to me, my kids, my finances, my future. And my mother kept laughing about it, letting me know that I was substandard, and that it was clearly MY fault, and not even something I did, but something I was. I wasn't marriage material. Very ironic coming from a woman who is her husband's FOURTH wife.
Not only did she laugh about it, joke, she defended my alkie ex, and brushed off what he did to me, and kept trying to tell me to let it all die down and then talk to him, make it work (ie, sweep it under the rug, and make nice-nice, don't recognize the ugliness, don't stand up for yourself, don't require respect or kindness...). She would have sent me back into that hellish marriage. Further irony: my ex and his family didn't like her. They made fun of her.
And the ultimate irony, her marriages weren't so hot. My father married her because she was pregnant, drank nonstop, was surly and ended up cheating on her. But after he killed himself drunk driving he left her financially well off with pensions and insurance, etc...
Her second marriage seems okay, until you watch them together--she nags and picks on my stepfather all day long. He can barely open his mouth without her trying to shush or shame him, "Oh, Fred, how can you say that?" "Oh Fred..." rolling her eyes, "Oh Fred, that's not how it is!" It's non-stop badgering and criticizing.
It's very hard to listen to her. And my XAH and his family mocked her endlessly for doing it. They found almost everything she said offensive (which was a stretch). They didn't like how she said good bye to them, they didn't like her tone of voice, they didn't like how she treated XAH's kids, on and on. They criticized her the way she criticizes Fred.
I was always defending her, but if I complained about them, she would brush me off or defend them. She valued them more than me. Of course, I don't think she realized how they felt about her. I suspect she can't imagine how anyone wouldn't like her, she's such a nice person after all, and so friendly.
I don't understand why I don't rate the respect she gives these people. I don't understand why she, my MOTHER can't be on my side. Why she has to rush to defend them. I don't understand it.
My mother didn't and still doesn't like me. I think she loves me. I think she sort of in a detached way needs or wants me around, but she doesn't like me. And I don't think she has since I was young and my personality emerged out of babyhood.
My mother is your basic issue codependent, sure of her own wisdom, with a complete belief that she understands any situation better than anyone else and she can guide anyone into a happy life--if you'd just let her. She has appointed herself the gatekeeper of information and judgement about what is right and wrong. She is sure she loves more and and more deeply than others--at least more than me.
An example of this is last summer when my oldest AS flipped. He was detoxing from skunk cannabis and alcohol and loading up on Xanax and Adderall. He was strung out, fidgety, manic, agitated and looking for trouble. We were visiting my mother at the time. He took off and hitchhiked down an interstate, conned a friend's father into buying him a plane ticket, wandered around in the middle of the night in a inner city filled with gangs, made his way 1,000 miles from her house to mine, where he broke in, vandalized it, partied, and drove my car without a license and under the influence of pot/skunk. My car reeked of it sickeningly when I retrieved it.
I was beside myself, devastated, sick with worry and anxiety, shocked at his extreme behavior (he'd never done this before, he'd always acted out with pouting and sulking and banging things around and sarcasm). I was shredded emotionally.
She comes into the bedroom, sits on the bed and says: "I want to help." She looked me straight in the eye and said, "If anything bad happens to him, ***I*** will be devastated." And then she offered to put $6,000 towards therapy for him. But she kept saying that SHE would be devastated if anything happened to him.
It's hard to describe how she said it, but it was said in a way and with facial and hand gestures that clearly indicated that she did not think I would be able to understand how awful it would be. She could appreciate the tragedy in a way I was not able to. She would be in more pain than me, and she had to do something, because apparently I didn't care enough to save him and herself.
I don't know, it's hard to describe in words, but if I repeated it in tone and with the expression and hand gestures, you would immediately pick up on it. She clearly thought she loved him more than me and would be more hurt by his loss than I ever would. She couldn't fathom I loved my own child.
I remember just staring at her, shocked, offended, thinking: you really believe you love MY child more than I love him, that his loss would not destroy me. That you clearly think I'm just callous and shallow and shortsighted.
I just stared at her, unbelieving, and could barely speak. I finally stuttered, "I'd be devastated too if something happened to him." And she waved her hand in front of my face and brushed me off and told me that she wanted to get therapy for him and me--to fix us.
Now, you have to understand, that in the 21 years of AS's life, we only spent 7 of them even living within a thousand miles of her. She visited twice a year. I don't think she had AS overnight more than 3 or 4 times alone without me. When we visited it was always as a family, me there. When we did live in the same state, we saw each other about every six weeks. For dinner or holidays, or little league games, etc... They had a close loving relationship, but AS was not the shape of her life, like he was mine, his mother. He is my child, he came from my body, I was stay at home mom and I did more with him than my mother ever did with me. He and I were together all the time, I was room mom, team mom, he was the shape of my life when he was growing up. He started drugs and drinking at age 16; at age 14 though, he was still hugging me good night, saying "I love you", affectionate, told me everything, etc...
But she doesn't really think I would be as devastated as her, the one who really knows love.
My point is not that it is a contest of who loves more or who would be more devastated, my point is that my mother waved away, dismissed MY pain. My feelings aren't real to her, they are theoretical, they don't count; she doesn't believe I could feel as deeply as her.
The point is, she thinks I'm 'less than' her, more shallow, callous, unfeeling, unimportant. This woman who prides herself on her sensitivity, her insight, her depth can't apply any of that to me. She waves my feelings off with a hand in front of my face and an emphasis on herself. (Maybe because she can't value me, her child, she can't imagine that I would value AS, my child? I don't know).
It hurt indescribably. And was very revealing on how she views me.
Another example. A couple years ago I divorced my second alcoholic. It was a hellish marriage, filled with alcoholism, and overrun my his dysfunctional, mentally ill family and controlled by his borderline personality disordered mother. I knew before we had finished our honeymoon the marriage was a failure and I would have to divorce him. But I held on for a couple years because of the economy and there were a lot of children involved. It ended when he pushed me in a drunken rage and was followed by a nasty divorce where my XAH was as vindictive and harassing as possible. I had post traumatic stress syndrome from that marriage.
In the months of the break up and divorce, my mother on FOUR occasions made a joke, ha, ha, "You just don't do marriage well" LOL. "You shouldn't get married again ever, laughter". I was in pain and anguish and desperate at the failure of my marriage and the damage it did to me, my kids, my finances, my future. And my mother kept laughing about it, letting me know that I was substandard, and that it was clearly MY fault, and not even something I did, but something I was. I wasn't marriage material. Very ironic coming from a woman who is her husband's FOURTH wife.
Not only did she laugh about it, joke, she defended my alkie ex, and brushed off what he did to me, and kept trying to tell me to let it all die down and then talk to him, make it work (ie, sweep it under the rug, and make nice-nice, don't recognize the ugliness, don't stand up for yourself, don't require respect or kindness...). She would have sent me back into that hellish marriage. Further irony: my ex and his family didn't like her. They made fun of her.
And the ultimate irony, her marriages weren't so hot. My father married her because she was pregnant, drank nonstop, was surly and ended up cheating on her. But after he killed himself drunk driving he left her financially well off with pensions and insurance, etc...
Her second marriage seems okay, until you watch them together--she nags and picks on my stepfather all day long. He can barely open his mouth without her trying to shush or shame him, "Oh, Fred, how can you say that?" "Oh Fred..." rolling her eyes, "Oh Fred, that's not how it is!" It's non-stop badgering and criticizing.
It's very hard to listen to her. And my XAH and his family mocked her endlessly for doing it. They found almost everything she said offensive (which was a stretch). They didn't like how she said good bye to them, they didn't like her tone of voice, they didn't like how she treated XAH's kids, on and on. They criticized her the way she criticizes Fred.
I was always defending her, but if I complained about them, she would brush me off or defend them. She valued them more than me. Of course, I don't think she realized how they felt about her. I suspect she can't imagine how anyone wouldn't like her, she's such a nice person after all, and so friendly.
I don't understand why I don't rate the respect she gives these people. I don't understand why she, my MOTHER can't be on my side. Why she has to rush to defend them. I don't understand it.
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She's also a sweep-everything-under-the-rug type of person, very uncomfortable with rainbows-and-unicorns type of person, and is also very uncomfortable with anger and emotional pain and ugly truths. Hide those! Stamp them down! Avert your eyes! Danger, Will Robinson, danger, danger, danger! Pretend everything's okay, pretend, pretend, pretend.
So what do you do with a mother who doesn't like you? But will pretend she does because she could never ever admit that she wanted a different type of daughter? And because someone as perfect as her couldn't possibly admit she didn't like her daughter or wasn't a warm, nurturing, kind mother.
I was watching Big Bang Theory. The 30-year old egghead Sheldon got sick and his fundamentalist Christian rather ignorant bigoted (the two couldn't be more opposite, and neither could understand the other) mother took care of him. She rubbed his head, brought his soup, sang to him, plumped pillows, felt his forehead, cossetted him, sat with him.
I watched and suddenly felt a pang. I'd never had that. When i got sick I was pretty much told, "You better not be faking to stay out of school" (I always had top grades and never caused trouble in school), was stuck alone in my room and left to myself. I didn't even get a bowl to throw up in, I would have to run to the bathroom to throw up in the toilet. If I didn't have a stomach problem, she'd bring me lunch. I'd get aspirin or cough syrup, but for the most part was left alone and isolated. And was told all the things I couldn't do because I was sick (such as watch tv or come out of my room). Although my mother was a stay at home mom for most of my childhood, my sicknesses were an inconvenience to her. And I did not deserve cosseting.
I don't know why not.
So what do you do with a mother who doesn't like you? But will pretend she does because she could never ever admit that she wanted a different type of daughter? And because someone as perfect as her couldn't possibly admit she didn't like her daughter or wasn't a warm, nurturing, kind mother.
I was watching Big Bang Theory. The 30-year old egghead Sheldon got sick and his fundamentalist Christian rather ignorant bigoted (the two couldn't be more opposite, and neither could understand the other) mother took care of him. She rubbed his head, brought his soup, sang to him, plumped pillows, felt his forehead, cossetted him, sat with him.
I watched and suddenly felt a pang. I'd never had that. When i got sick I was pretty much told, "You better not be faking to stay out of school" (I always had top grades and never caused trouble in school), was stuck alone in my room and left to myself. I didn't even get a bowl to throw up in, I would have to run to the bathroom to throw up in the toilet. If I didn't have a stomach problem, she'd bring me lunch. I'd get aspirin or cough syrup, but for the most part was left alone and isolated. And was told all the things I couldn't do because I was sick (such as watch tv or come out of my room). Although my mother was a stay at home mom for most of my childhood, my sicknesses were an inconvenience to her. And I did not deserve cosseting.
I don't know why not.
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Nurturing and affection were not part of my childhood. I was never hugged or kissed and never told I was loved.
Never once.
My mother would write, "Love mom" in birthday cards, but she has NEVER said it.
My brother was loved and got more nurturing than I. His nickname in the family was "Tiger"; mine was "Stinky".
A couple years ago I asked my mother why I was called Stinky (mostly by my father). She said she didn't remember anyone calling me Stinky.
I imagine my father called me that because as a crawl baby or toddler my diapers were stinky and when he called me that and laughed, I probably as a baby laughed back and the name stuck.
Other girls were called Princess and Kitten and Sweetie. I used to pretend for years that Stinky was a 'cute, funny, quirky' nickname. I never really convinced myself though. It made me feel bad.
My grandmother called me "Honeybunch". I LOOOOOOOOOOOOVE my grandmother. Just remembering her voice calling me Honeybunch, makes me tear up even as I write this. She loved me so much.
I called my children, Darling, Sweetie, Pumkin, and Bunny.
My mother doesn't remember things that aren't flattering to her or that are insensitive to me. If I were ever to confront her with it, and tell her how bad it made/makes me feel, I can hear her voice saying, "I'm sure that never happened".
I can hear her voice saying that because it's a common response when I mention things to her that hurt me or were unfair or unkind to me. She can't remember or is 'sure' they never happened, or she would 'never' say that.
I'm not allowed to be hurt, I'm not allowed to have feelings, I'm not allowed to protest being treated poorly. But if I insist on having those unpleasant and tacky feelings, then I'm to keep it to myself. And if I don't play by those rules, I'm invalidated and dismissed and told I'm wrong and making it up.
In order words, she lies and scapegoats me.
It would be impossible for her to say, "That was a terrible thing to call you, I'm sorry."
About 6 weeks ago my mother wrote me a letter and said, "We've never been as close as I wanted."
Gee, I wonder why?
What do you do with a mother like this?
Never once.
My mother would write, "Love mom" in birthday cards, but she has NEVER said it.
My brother was loved and got more nurturing than I. His nickname in the family was "Tiger"; mine was "Stinky".
A couple years ago I asked my mother why I was called Stinky (mostly by my father). She said she didn't remember anyone calling me Stinky.
I imagine my father called me that because as a crawl baby or toddler my diapers were stinky and when he called me that and laughed, I probably as a baby laughed back and the name stuck.
Other girls were called Princess and Kitten and Sweetie. I used to pretend for years that Stinky was a 'cute, funny, quirky' nickname. I never really convinced myself though. It made me feel bad.
My grandmother called me "Honeybunch". I LOOOOOOOOOOOOVE my grandmother. Just remembering her voice calling me Honeybunch, makes me tear up even as I write this. She loved me so much.
I called my children, Darling, Sweetie, Pumkin, and Bunny.
My mother doesn't remember things that aren't flattering to her or that are insensitive to me. If I were ever to confront her with it, and tell her how bad it made/makes me feel, I can hear her voice saying, "I'm sure that never happened".
I can hear her voice saying that because it's a common response when I mention things to her that hurt me or were unfair or unkind to me. She can't remember or is 'sure' they never happened, or she would 'never' say that.
I'm not allowed to be hurt, I'm not allowed to have feelings, I'm not allowed to protest being treated poorly. But if I insist on having those unpleasant and tacky feelings, then I'm to keep it to myself. And if I don't play by those rules, I'm invalidated and dismissed and told I'm wrong and making it up.
In order words, she lies and scapegoats me.
It would be impossible for her to say, "That was a terrible thing to call you, I'm sorry."
About 6 weeks ago my mother wrote me a letter and said, "We've never been as close as I wanted."
Gee, I wonder why?
What do you do with a mother like this?
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Location: Columbia MO
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It is so hard to deal with this kind of crap, we call my mom the "queen of denial", she does not remember the beatings, the screaming, the general stress of daily life.
At least for me, I chose distance, I very seldom ever bring things like this up anymore, sometimes it will come up when we are in close quarters for too long (holiday weekend) but most of the time I just let it go.
Many of us here have created new families with people that love and accept us as we are, they may not be blood, but they have our back, they tell us that they love us, they recite the truth.
My therapist constantly reminds me that you cannot make your family be what you want them to be, so quit trying, make your future what you want it to be!
At least for me, I chose distance, I very seldom ever bring things like this up anymore, sometimes it will come up when we are in close quarters for too long (holiday weekend) but most of the time I just let it go.
Many of us here have created new families with people that love and accept us as we are, they may not be blood, but they have our back, they tell us that they love us, they recite the truth.
My therapist constantly reminds me that you cannot make your family be what you want them to be, so quit trying, make your future what you want it to be!
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Originally Posted by Willybluedog 
It is so hard to deal with this kind of crap, we call my mom the "queen of denial", she does not remember the beatings, the screaming, the general stress of daily life.
T
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Location: Sarasota FL
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You arent alone- BOY COULD I RELATE to your dysfunctional parents and your relationships. I was so sick of my patterns of behavior and them; i cut them out of my life. However, there is the usual uncommon "relapse" of my old behaviors when my mother sucks me in with her mental avbuse. I posted about it this week. I am fighting the good fight; not going to give up on ME.
I wish you all the best and thank you for sharing.
I wish you all the best and thank you for sharing.
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I think some of the problem is it looks okay, or at least not too bad. Nobody's getting beaten. Nobody's screaming. It's just a persistent undercurrent: you don't really count, your feeling don't matter, the problem is you, not me, never me. Look at me, I'm wonderful, I'm so loving and friendly--all my friends say so. So it can't be me. It's you. There always was something wrong with you.
We gave you wonderful Christmases, and birthdays, and camps, and took you to girl scouts, and had great vacations. We sent you to college. Nobody beat you, nobody left you alone for days to fend for yourself. What are you complaining about?
We gave you wonderful Christmases, and birthdays, and camps, and took you to girl scouts, and had great vacations. We sent you to college. Nobody beat you, nobody left you alone for days to fend for yourself. What are you complaining about?
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