I have not written on my blog in ages. I started this blog to try to heal, understand, recover, etc. from my relationship with my crazy mother. I was going through breast cancer too. It was a hard few years. I think I wrote in one of my entries that when I called my mother one Easter Sunday to wish her a happy Easter, she went off telling me how rotten I am…how no one loves me and I am worthless and all such fun things. It felt like a knife in my chest. I think her words upset me so much that it actually triggered the cancer. I do not know, but that is what I think. After developing breast cancer and SURVIVING it, I decided I would not longer give anyone the power to hurt me like my Mother had again. My mother essentially lost her power.
I did not stop having some interaction with my mother. I just limited contact and nothing she said got to me. She was mostly benign during the time I was going through cancer treatment. She wasnt overly kind but her hostility lessened. Then it increased. Her rage began again on the telephone. She once again starting talking to my husband telling him what a difficult, rotten person I am. Then she would want us to visit. She would call and act cheerful like nothing happened after one of her rage fits toward me.
I spent 3 days praying. Seriously. I finally wrote her the most kind note I could write and asked her to let go of the anger and for us to try to be kind to one another. I am 58 and she is 88! Good grief. I felt like it was important to try one last time. I promised to call her at a certain time after I sent her that kind letter.
She was ready for me. She apparently had written out a quick sort-of “I am sorry IF I did anything…” note. She read that to me and then she said she had something she wanted to talk to me about…. which she did. She went on to tell me how much she resented something I said in the letter….something about telling her I was sorry she always seemed sad when I was young. (That was sort of a kind lie…she really seemed angry instead of sad but I was trying….) That is what she resented. She went on and on and I finally just said, “Really…this is how you want to end this?” I had explained in the letter that this was the last great chance for our relationship.
I told her I was hanging up and that I was sorry for the choice she had made. I did hang up. All was quiet for a week or two. We actually got caller id so I could avoid her in case she called. She did call and my husband answered. She had used a cell phone so we did not recognize the number. She talked to my husband like nothing happened. She wanted to see us and all of that. She told him how she loved me. I guess she expected me to call her but I did not. The next week she called again and my husband answered again. She said she would do whatever it took to make things okay. Of course, she acted like a victim and went on to tell him how difficult I am and how hard it is to love me. She suggested we drive 3 hours to take her out to her favorite restaurant as a treat, a place she knows my husband and I do not like.
I took this opportunity to write her a letter. I told her that what it would take would be for the emotional abuse to stop. I explained it all to her. It was not mean. It was factual. I told her how she always pretended that she did not know what I was talking about and how she never was able to recall the abuse. I did not use the word abuse. I talked about how she would say unkind things to me and about me. I simply told her that if she wanted to have any relationship with me, the unkindness to me, the talking unkindly about me to others and such had to stop. I told her she could write to me as she tended to get really angry on the phone.
I have not heard from her since. No more calls. No more letters. I had the most relaxed Christmas season of my life. No mean calls or interactions from a shitty mother who has treated me like crap all of my life. It was the best present of my life.
Narcissistic personality disorder. That is her problem. As people age, they get worse, not better. Narcissistic disorder is a first cousin to a sociopath or psychopath. They do not have a conscience. They do not feel empathy. They use people and play people for their own amusement. My mother is happy when she sees me in pain. That is what she wants. I held out hope that if she ever understood what she was doing, she would stop. Who wants to hurt someone? A narcissist does. I gave her full detail of what she was doing that was hurting me but that did not change anything.
Writing her that last letter where I explained it all to her was a gift to her. If she had died and I never told her about what she was doing, I would have always wondered if she would have changed…was she really evil or was she just stupid. The answer is she is not stupid. If I was doing something that caused pain to someone, and I was not aware of it, I would want to know so I would stop. I don’t want to cause pain and suffering to others. I figure at age 88, my mother might want to think about the afterlife. If she did not know she was causing me pain, and I did not tell her, she would not have a chance to make it right before she leaves this world. I suspect to know and do nothing to correct it will not be looked on lightly in the next world.
I think no contact is the only way to go with a narcissist. I have debated that for years upon years. I have kept trying and trying but it never got better. My mother just caused pain and hurt every chance she could. She might have gone neutral for a bit as I went through cancer, but she still let some very mean comments slip here and there. I heard she told my aunt that I deserved cancer as I did not take care of myself. It was not true that I do not take care of myself and who deserves cancer no matter what?
I used to ponder how I would feel when my mother dies if I went no contact. I do not know. I do not care any longer. Anything and everything connected with her feels awful and sad so how could it get worse? Maybe it will be worse. I will always feel sad. I may feel very sad when she dies, not that she is dead, but that I never had a mother. I feel sad for the choices she has made. I would like to see her happy but she feels happy when she hurts people and that is too high a price to pay. I do not understand any of this. I am going to quit trying. I just know the pain is less without a pretend mother in my life. There are no easy choices when your parent is a narcissist.
I received some comments today to some of my blog posts that got me thinking. I decided to post a response I left for one comment. It was a great comment suggesting perhaps my Mother was abused and that is why she became abusive.
Hi: It is pretty incredible isn’t it? What kind of Mother calls her daughter a little idiot as a nickname? I am familiar with Freud and I understand projection and agree that is what is going on with her, at least to some extent. I don’t agree with the idea that she was abused. I think she made a decision to be an instrument for evil. I think it came more from being spoiled than abused. Greed, selfishness and jealousy seem to be the guiding forces in her behavior. My aunts are not warm and fuzzy people but they are like Mother Teresa compared to my Mom. My Grandfather has been described by all who knew him as a very gentle, kind man. My Grandmother was a battleaxe but there was never any indication from anyone that she was cruel to her children. She wasn’t so warm, but not cruel. In her old age, she was a gentle, easy person …at least that is what I experienced first hand.
I have tried to find some reason to explain and perhaps even justify my Mother’s behavior. I might have some compassion or at least some understanding of her if I thought she had been abused or mistreated. There is no indication of that and I have checked. I personally have this belief that she made some sort of deal, perhaps stupidly or even accidentally, with the dark side. I honestly believe there is some evil entity that lives within her or at least works through her. I am scared of my Mother. It is not exactly my Mother I am afraid of…it is some horrible force in her. She can call me names and say nasty things, but to feel murderous rage and hatred from her is unnerving. To look in her eyes and see reptilian eyes that are filled with hate…I can’t describe it. It is horrifying. It is like being in the presence of a demon dressed up in a human disguise. I do not say that lightly. I don’t exactly think I have been emotionally abused. I think I grew up around the presence of evil.
It has been a few months since I last wrote an entry. A very cool, kind, insightful person left several comments for me today on my blog…and that got me thinking it is time to do a little writing.
I have made it through 2 surgeries since April for breast reconstruction. The first surgery they put in an expander under my chest wall. It is like a tough balloon that expands. I had to go to see my surgeon every week or so for about 6 weeks where he injected saline into the balloon and that led to the stretching. It created a pocket that would support a prosthetic boob. That was the 2nd surgery. They removed the expander and put in the prosthetic boob. They also had to lift and reduce the other boob to match the new one. I didn’t realize that was going to be so tricky. They had to cut that breast from the center of my chest to under my arm and also from the bottom of my breast to the center…where they cut off my nipple and reattached it. Holy cow. Quite an ordeal.
I am about healed up and am doing well. I think I was high on pain meds when I wrote a couple of entries in the blog in April. I was very loopey after the 1st surgery but they adjusted the pain meds after the 2nd surgery so I was not so out of it. Thank God.
The whole process was hard. The stretching hurt like hell. It felt like tearing tendons apart… Then the expander was high on my chest while my other boob, the real one, was much lower. It looked very odd. I wore baggy shirts. My boobs match fairly well now…and the one good part of it all is I have the boobs of a teenager…at least that is the appearance when I am wearing clothes. Naked, there is a scar that runs from under one arm to under the other. One boob does not have a nipple. A new nurse who saw me…I could tell…she nearly fainted. It is scary to see for the first time. I am not shy…I had to stand without a shirt in front of so many doctors and nurses in the past few years. I forget that it is a bit much to see for someone not familiar with breast cancer surgeries.
I am smoking again. You had to know that would happen. I am weak and ridiculous. I know it. I should be ashamed but I really don’t care. I will quit again. There is no excuse. There is no reason. I just wanted a cigarette. I have been in pain and misery for months and I just wanted a smoke.
I am walking a mile or so almost every day. I have kept my weight under control. I am feeling okay…still pain and weird sensations but it is getting better.
I found out my sister, whom I have never mentioned in my blog, has breast cancer and is just starting the whole freaking process. I did not have to have chemo or radiation as the cancer had not spread to my lymph glands. My sister is not so lucky. She started chemo a few days ago. It sucks big time. My whole family basically ignored me throughout my breast cancer. No one checked on me or visited after my latest surgeries. I have decided to not be like that toward my sister. I have been calling. She is scared. I understand that feeling.
Today I actually heard from my brother. He has had no interest in my recovery or status but he called to tell me my mother fell and broke her hip today. I am glad he called but it is sort of amazing to me how my family has no interest in my health but I am supposed to jump in the car and run to the hospital to see my Mother. And I will do it. I can hardly wait. She will wake up and find something cruel and insulting to say to me. I wouldn’t want to miss that. She will probably eventually have some little witty thing to say about my titties. I will get to hear how titty cancer and a mastectomy are nothing compared to a broken hip. I agree that a broken hip sucks but so does breast cancer. Of course, HER breast cancer was horrific. She had a biopsy of a place…which she now tells everyone was a lumpectomy. Her doctor told me she had stage 0 cancer. Seriously. It was a little place that was precancerous….but my dear mother is a survivor of breast cancer you know.
I am so angry. I so dislike my Mother. I wish I could find some warm spot in my heart toward that woman but it is not there. If I just had one happy, kind memory of her, I think I could feel differently. I tried and tried and tried but every time I gave her another chance, it turned out to be a mistake. She doesn’t know how to be anything but awful toward me. I keep thinking of times she told me I was unlovable, how no one could love me, how I don’t deserve anything in life, what a rotten person I am……… and how she has tried to convince my husband of these things….it just makes me go cold. I remember how I took her to lunch with a bunch of our friends and the first thing she said to everyone was what a mean person I was. I remember how she used to call my father-in-law and try to convince him I was worthless. He always told me about it. It upset him. I can’t remember being in her presence in front of other people when she did not whisper horrific things about me to anyone who was near. She didn’t try very hard to keep me from hearing.
My brother told me today that I would be needed after my Mother got out of the hospital. I have made a decision. I freaking am not taking care of her. I will not wipe her butt. I will not fetch her food. I will not give her a bath. I will not be on call. She can go to a nursing home or she can hire someone to help her or she can let her beloved children take care of her. I ain’t doing it. She will work me to death, insult me every step of the way, and whisper untrue, cruel things about me to anyone who will listen. She stayed with us once for several months as she went through radiation treatments for that precancerous place. It was a nightmare. She did everything in her power to destroy my marriage. She would cry and say awful things about me to my husband …trying to convince him that I didn’t deserve him. I was the one who drove her to the hospital and back from the hospital every day before I went to work. I fixed her 3 meals a day. I took her every where she needed to go. I bought her everything she needed. I drove her home every Friday for the weekend which is a long trip…and I went back and picked her up on Sunday. We gave up our living room and tv for her. She would be tired at 7 pm and would want us to leave the living room…saying she wanted to sleep…but she stayed up and watched tv until midnight. We just weren’t allowed to be in there with her. (She might have to let us have a say on the television shows and she wasn’t about to let that happen.) It got really old. Of course though, I did nothing to help her…and I was so selfish and uncaring. Thank God for my husband. He told her if I was so bad and she was so unhappy, he would drive her ass home and she could get herself to the hospital.
Ranting, ranting, ranting. Something about all of these surgeries and hard things I have gone through with this breast cancer has changed me. I don’t give a rat’s ass any longer. I am tired of trying to care. I am tired of trying to ignore the obvious. I am tired of giving and doing for someone who has never had any kind intentions toward me. She is my mother but she is not a mother. She is an awful person and I do not like her or want to be around her. I am sorry if anyone is hurt or injured but that does not change who she is. I do not wish bad things for her but I no longer am willing to put up with bad things from her just because she is my biological mother. She has spent so much of her life energy trying to convince people, especially me, that I am a mistake, a nothing…. Somehow she has it in her mind that it makes her look better if she can make me look bad. She doesn’t seem to realize that most people don’t like such negative talk and that it does not make her look good, it makes her look like what she is: sick. Everything she says about me is a projection of her own rotten self. What a miserable life. What a miserable soul. I am so very, very fortunate. I am angry at the moment but overall I am a happy person ….and that must really piss her off. I cannot imagine how sad it must be for her to have such ugliness going on all the time.
Underneath my anger, I feel very sad. I can’t believe how my immediate family so ignored me as I went through my surgeries. I can’t believe how alone I have felt. It really is very clear that I do not have anyone in my family who cares anything about me. I am so very glad I have a loving husband. He has been so good to me.
The anger and the sad feelings will pass. I have clarity. I have been living in some form of denial…half pretending that I had a family who cared. I just don’t. I am okay though. I am going to be even better. I can’t fix this situation. It is what it is. Somehow truth is comforting, even if it is hard. I can let go of false hope and the illusion that somehow maybe I can make things different. I cannot change my Mother. I cannot make her love me. I cannot make her stop saying bad things to me and about me. I cannot help her have some insight and awareness that will alter her personality and her behavior. This is how she has been and it is how she will continue. It is out of my hands. I do not have bad feelings toward my brother or my sister. I know that they have been conditioned to hate me by my Mother. That is how they could have a connection with her. They are okay with her as long as they don’t have anything to do with me. Fine. Sad for them. I freaking survived breast cancer. I have lived in an emotional hell most of my life. No more. I see rainbows. I see sunlight. I feel happiness. I am alive..and with life… there is hope.
Okay, I am out of surgery and doing okay but these meds still make me feel ….hmmmm….not quite of this world. I figured today I might be a zombie…..
I am having flashbacks of all sorts of stuff. Maybe when some people are near death, they are gracious, kind and in a forgiving mood. I mostly get mad. I remember all the times my Mother said and did rotten things to me. I remember horrible people and their horrible ways. If there were some happy memories or experiences to balance it out, maybe I would feel a little more generous of spirit. I can’t lie to myself. If I was saying I felt warm and fuzzy things toward these mean people, it would be to try to win favor with Jesus or God for my salavation. God would know I was lying and that would make it worse. Even Jesus said he could not stand a hypocrite.
I was watching some show last night and there was some line in it about how when our body gets hurts, scar tissue builds up. When our spirit gets hurt, scar tissue also forms. We can never completely undo the emotional and spiritual wounds we inflict on others. Words can hurt and leave scars that last a lifetime.
I think parents don’t realize kids are people sometimes. They came through their parents but they do not belong to them. They have no right to say mean things or do mean things to their kids. If they slip, as all parents will, it is okay but it needs to be addressed. Pardon needs to be sought. I am not suggesting kids run the show and become wild animals who are selfish, spoiled and mean who lack of discipline. They just deserve to be educated with kindness and compassion.
I have thought about forgiveness. I am pretty open to forgiveness. I am open to forgiving my Mother of her horrible behavior toward me. The thing is, she never apologizes. She never owns that she has done anything. I can forgive her in my heart and go on but in real life, I cannot let her off the hook so easily. She needs to own up and ask for forgiveness in order to receive it in my opinion. Even with God, he is in the forgiving business, but he doesn’t hand it out to people who do not ask and make some attempt to atone for their behavior.
I am rambling. I feel like a zombie…not alive and not dead. My brain is oozing thoughts that a bit overwhelm me. I just get shocked and sad. My husband was telling me about a building he is involved with restoring. Some dude in the building went after a repair person with a knife….and it turns out the dude has AIDS. Generally I have empathy and compassion for someone with AIDS. This person though, wanted to hurt someone and pass on this disease. Then, when evicted, this person shit all over his apartment knowing someone would have to clean it up and be exposed to his disease. What kind of person does that? I don’t get it.
Why do people chose to be mean and hurtful? That is the question I have pondered all of my life. I am begging you to give me an answer.
Sorry I haven’t been writing. I have been busy not smoking, not eating, exercising and yes, having breast reconstruction. I finally did it….I went in for surgery and they are reconstructing the breast that I lost to breast cancer a couple of years ago.
I am doing great. Surgery went well. Recovery is going well. Process is going great. It is hard…but all is well.
The pain medicine makes me cry a lot. Isn’t that stupid? I cry over everything. The world feels beautiful…and tragic somehow.
I am a loser. No doubt about it. I have always felt like a big fat loser. My Mother is a wolf and I am surprised she did not maul me at birth. I am pretty sure she would have if she had not been wearing the human disguise. My Mother, the big alpha wolf, was pretty good at turning the pack against me. I was one of those pathetic beta dogs that always was on the outside of the pack hoping for a little bit of food after all the big dogs had finished eating.
I broke from the pack long ago but the feeling of being an unwanted, beta dog has never left. I have had to be super strong to do anything. The thing is, I am not very smart or very talented or very strong in any way. I just had to be strong to survive on my own. Since I married Booger, we both are stronger and happier together. He came from a weird pack too and broke free. So we run together and we are tough …but inside, we both feel like losers. We know very well what it is like to have a big pack of alpha animals chasing us with destruction and hatred in their eyes. We bluff our way through life pretending not to be afraid. We are both terrified. I think that is why we both picked up cigarettes. I think that is why we both ate too much. It gave us some comfort. It felt like compensation for being half-starved as children. Cigarettes felt like our friends.
Booger and I have both lost over 50 pounds and we really don’t need to lose any more. We both are about the size we were as young beta dogs who were half-starved. We are lean and mean. We exercise and are in great shape. Of course, that feels like a lie to me because of my own insecurities. Booger still feels fat. He isn’t of course.
The smoking…we are off of it. I am extremely happy….and shocked. I can’t believe that Booger and I broke free from cigarettes and that we are happy about it. We have smoked for decades. We read that book by Allen Carr on stopping smoking easily and it worked…completely worked for us. The desire is totally gone from us to smoke.
Deep inside, I am sort of depressed. It is because smoking is sort of like some abusive people I have known in my life. I thought they were my friends. They weren’t. Cigarettes were out to kill me. Any comfort or happiness I ever got from them was a big fat lie. They just pulled me in to kill me. I am not depressed in a way to ignore the lie and start smoking again. I am just sad that I ever fell for the lie. Cigarettes are not anyone’s friend. They are deadly things out to destroy us.
The thing is here. I have always felt like a fat loser…a failure in life. I may be but I quit smoking and I am not fat! I am loving life.