healing

[Wildflower]

Hi Guest,

Wore myself out telling my story , but I was still thinking about your string and your letter to John.

Your comment about writing John a letter. I've thought about that a trillion times. I could do that, but I have a huge reluctance. It's like a 'disrespect' thing for me. In my personal life I have this issue with keeping agreements, being at appointments on time etc. I'm never ever ever late. EVER. And if I make a promise, I always, always, ALWAYS keep it. Even if it kills me. Really. For some reason, promises to me are holy. Mine and other people's.

I'm very harsh on myself in this regard, and I guess because I've known about his promise to his family,  (Mother knows what a stickler I am for keeping my promises, and insisting othr's keep theirs) maybe she made this up too? Hmmm, never thought of that before) I have to respect that. If John promised his wife that he'd have nothing to do with us again, then that makes me feel very awkward. That woman never hunted me down, and terrorised me, or emabrrassed me in front of my friends, like my mother did to her children.

First, I just want to say that I sooooooooo respect your insistence on keeping promises.  I’m not very good at this, but this has been on my ‘bad habits’ list for a while – because I feel better when I keep my commitments, and by trying to do this, I’m forced to think about what I’m capable of doing, what my boundaries really are.  It’s so great that you can do that.

But back to the letter.  As I said above, maybe you don’t need to make contact with him again, but I keep thinking of these loopholes, I guess.  Partly because I’m thinking of the letter more as something that would might feel good for you, but maybe the promises things would overwhelm any good feelings, I don’t know (though if your mom DID lie to you   …..hmmm).  You could leave it one-sided.  Tell him he doesn’t have to break his promise and respond.  Just tell him he was great and you appreciate what he did for you.  But now I feel like I’m badgering you, which is not my intention.

About that string (love that image, btw).  I’ve been playing with new idea lately.  If you’re in the corner untangling a ball of colorful string, I’m in another corner trying to figure out whether it’s “Opposite Day” or not.  I keep running head on into these mantras I used to use to beat myself up about not being a better person (“Why can’t I be x?  Why can’t I do Y?  Oh, I’ll never be good at Z”).  Then one day one of them hit me (POW) smack in the forehead.  What if I CAN be x?  What if I’ve actually always WANTED to be X, and the fact that I keep beating myself up about it is actually my weirdo way of telling myself to do something I WANT to do.     I had to convince myself that I didn’t want to do so many things when I was growing up (“Going to the mall is stupid.  Cheerleaders are stupid.”).  I had to do this so that I wouldn’t feel so bad about the fact that I wasn’t allowed to do these things (okay, maybe it wasn’t SO bad that I wasn’t allowed to be a cheerleader, you hopefully you get my point ).  What I’m saying is, every time I hear this voice that sounds kind of negative at first, I wonder if today is Opposite Day and it’s really my weird way of saying “Please, please, can we do that today?”  And suddenly things are just … easy.  I’m not forcing myself to learn something new.  I’m doing what, deep down, I really wanted to do in the first place.  

Calling the funny farm on me, eh?  Well, if you can be a hippo, can you have them put me in with the Dolphins, please?

Wildflower

P.S. - RG, I'm stopping for the night.  No need to put any word restrictions on my account.  Cutting myself off.  Bye.

[Peanut]

OMG.  This is one of the best things I've ever read:

In my mind I liken it to the world's biggest messiest bunch of different coloured string. My mother has put me over here in a corner with this huge messy bunch of string, and it's as big as a house. My job is I have to unravel it and sort all the colours into their groups, and join the different colours together, and it's gonna take forever. Am I going to spend the next 20 years doing, if it's going to be perfect? And in the end all I'm gonna have is a big ball of string to lug around, THAT'S NOT MINE! It's just her legacy to me. Yikes!!!!  

How much of my kids lives or making friends or spending time with friends would I miss out on? How tired would I be all the time? Too tired to enjoy MY LIFE. I'd be be over there somewhere, tucked away in some corner of life, neglecting my own things, and spending my life STILL FOCUSSING ON HER CRAP & SORTING OUT HER CRAP!!!!!  and that would just end making me mad and resentful. At her for manipulating me and me for being a sucker.

So I'm adjusting to this, "I'm not going to be able to put all the peices of my life back where I'd like them to be, but I can at least remember them, and know where they'd go."  [/size]

Wow, Guest!

PS.  After reading this whole thread; (and 'wow' to Wildflower and Rosen, (the it's not your job to be the person that she needs to need her = Right on!), too = I SOOO get what you guys are talking about...), I was wondering, Guest, why is it that you don't register; it's odd somehow, after everything I've read just in this thread alone, that you would want to remain anonymous for even one more minute.

Regards to all, Peanut

[Anonymous]

Wow Wildflower, that story about your visit to your good dad's clearing out the clutter was amazing. "What a load off" experience. Can you imagine if you hadn't talked about any of that stuff at all to him? I wonder what that would have meant for your future perception of your own imagination.

And your good dad, what a lovely man, playing records with you. Then when you go and stay later, taking you skiing. Wow. And the swearing scenatio comparison. It's sad how we get programmed to expect certain flow-on reactions, like your dad. Something goes wrong, he swears and kicks the cat (you). And then someone else comes along and swears and just stops there, doesn't kick the cat. It's like "Hey rewind that scene. You didn't finish. I feel weird now." Other people aren't supposd to act differently to the way we are programmed to expect them to. Otherwise, we don't know what to do, and it's a bit of a jolt really and totally confusing.

It's a bit like learning the lines in a play. I've learned my lines to follow yours. But if you don't deliver the right line, the one I'm expecting, I'm stuffed and lost and confused. What a fabulous thing he showed you on that boat. That just because he had a problem he didn't feel the need or wasn't going to give you one too. You didn't get the blame. Isn't that good?

I know my memories of John may be exagerrated by my vivid imagination. Add to that the treatment I got from my mother being so gross, that it's possible that indifference would have seemed kind to me.

But regardless of how much my mind may have increased his kindness, there was still a good amount of kindness there to be thankful for. And I do appreciate it. And the same goes for that mother of mine. Regardless of how my imagination may have magnified her cruelty, she was completely and totally over the top in her cruelty to me and others.

And I shout to my mother in my head, "You're wrong mother, all men aren't bastards!"

And as for "Opposites Day" I think the equivalent might be, "Whatever I automatically think about trying something new, I should go the other way." I saw something like this on Seinfeld once. George had this revelation he shares excitedly with Jerry, "I've always made the wrong choices, so whatever I think from now on, I'm goin' the other way Jerry, go the other way!" That's probably not a bad philosophy sometimes for someone like me.

And hey, that ACON easter egg hunt line and detonating a few was so funny. The bomb squad, the therapist, funny stuff too. Thanks for the laugh.

By the way, why did your mum finish with your good dad? I forget if you've already said. Sorry. Did you understand why? Or did he finish with her?

And the ball of string thing came to me when I was reading some of Rosencrantz's recent posts. She's doing some really good work isn't she? And I have to admit I've been getting a lot out of it. I've also been getting a lot out of sharing with you too Wildflower. Thankyou both.

Oh no, I just gave you and Rosencrantz a compliment!  Was I being genuine  or was I just saying it . I always ask myself that nowdays. Funny and weird, this mind of mine sometimes.

Yes, I was being completely sincere and genuine, but I know I have to watch myself. I'm not disingenuous, but I am so extremely well trained in this, and can give an incredibly highly polished performance in the art of the "phoney compliment." I wonder if there is a demand for that skill anywhere.

Thanks Wildflower so so so much for sharing and reading,

Guest

[rosencrantz]

Dear Wildflower - as soon as I search for the words, the feelings subside.  How to express...

The post about the ACON Easter Egg Hunt.  Thanks for sharing the fun. And the rest - submit it to a magazine - it's the most wonderful story - do you realise how wonderfully you expressed it and what wonderful things you expressed???  I always think that when we are at our most authentic, it comes out as poetry.   It was a riveting read. I was spellbound!!!

Did you realise how centred you were, how much love was inside that story, how strong you were???  It just oozes strength, composure, 'womanhood', riches of the heart.

I just wonder (and yet I know) why you haven't been living in the same State/town as your 'other' family since that time??!  

Take care
R
PS I meant it about the magazine!!!

[Anonymous]

Here, Here, Rosencrantz. It was so warm, touching, and insightful, just like Wildflower herself. Whenever I watch my music DVD's and see Tom Petty perform I'll think of Wildflower and how much her sharing here has meant to me.

Thanks Wildflower
Guest

And Hi Peanuts, welcome aboard. I'm glad you got something out of the ball of string.

[Wildflower]

Thank you so much CG and R.     As you can probably imagine, there isn’t really a story that’s closer to my heart than this one.  And I’ve never really told the whole story before – partly because I’m afraid people won’t really understand, but I feel like you and others here do.  So thanks for that.  

Can you imagine if you hadn't talked about any of that stuff at all to him? I wonder what that would have meant for your future perception of your own imagination.

You know, I really can’t imagine because I don't think I would have made it this far.  I feel so lucky to have had him and this experience in my life.  That’s a big part of why I wanted to share my own experiences with and faith in my own memory and imagination – especially given the way you and Portia reacted to my straightjacket comment.  Don’t get me wrong, though.  I definitely still feel insane sometimes.   (raising one eyebrow emoticon)  

I don’t really have a good story on their break-up.  Mom told me for years that she broke up with him because he was too irresponsible and she wanted to make sure I wasn’t exposed to that   (wow, I’m really hearing that now, and that’s just absurd !).    Actually, she blamed all her breakups on me, giving one reason or another why they weren’t good for me – usually after I’d finally let them in and started to depend on them.     Ooof.  Anyway, when I try to talk to Mom about my good dad now, she starts weeping and talking about how he was the love of her life – which effectively prevents me from getting any facts or being able to talk about how difficult it was for me to lose him, too.

My good dad told me two things.  He said that he wanted to marry my mom but she refused.  Twice.  And then he told me something that I really don’t know what to do with.  He told me that I walked into their room one day after they’d been fighting and told them, straight up, “You’re not happy.”  He said that hearing that from me made him realize that, no, he wasn’t happy.  But he also said that it was so hard to leave that he took off to Greenland for a year (I remember the pictures) and buried himself in music and drinking.  Boy did I mess that up.   I shoulda said, “You’re not happy.  If you leave, take me with you.”  How bad can Greenland be?

When I found him again, I didn't move close to him because I wanted to 'get better' before trying to get too much back in his life.  I know that may sound reversed, but while being with him woke me up, it also made me aware of how much work I had in front of me - how much damage I needed to 'undo'.  So in the meantime, I've been maintaining contact with him while learning to look for the things I love in him in the people who ARE in my everyday life.

Something goes wrong, he swears and kicks the cat (you). And then someone else comes along and swears and just stops there, doesn't kick the cat. It's like "Hey rewind that scene. You didn't finish. I feel weird now."

Exactly.  It was so disorienting.  And you know, when I “woke up”, I couldn’t remember how I got on the very front of the boat in the first place.  It was so, so strange.  And wonderful.  And liberating.  Hmmm.  All of a sudden I’m thinking of all the other less subtle times I’ve learned to stop expecting people to follow the lines.  I’m sure there are others I haven’t learned yet.

But regardless of how much my mind may have increased his kindness, there was still a good amount of kindness there to be thankful for. And I do appreciate it. And the same goes for that mother of mine. Regardless of how my imagination may have magnified her cruelty, she was completely and totally over the top in her cruelty to me and others.

And I shout to my mother in my head, "You're wrong mother, all men aren't bastards!"

So true, CG.  On some level, it really doesn’t matter how long and accurate the itemized list on either your mother or John is.  John was kind to you (he doesn’t sound indifferent at all by the way you describe him), and he’s probably kind to many people.  Your mom, just based on the few stories you’ve told so far, is, as you say, over the top in her cruelty.  I wonder how anything she said/believed could really have been right?  At least, gotten to by honest, heartfelt means?  Maybe it’s wrong for me to say that, though.

I’ve been wondering for a while now - but wasn't sure if I should ask -about that 35 years that keeps cropping up.  What happened to finally break your silence?

And the ball of string thing came to me when I was reading some of Rosencrantz's recent posts. She's doing some really good work isn't she?

YES!!!  Again and again and again.  Great work, R.  

Did you realise how centred you were, how much love was inside that story, how strong you were??? It just oozes strength, composure, 'womanhood', riches of the heart.

That was such a nice thing to say.  Thank you.  No, I didn’t realize.  I think I’m a different person (the pre/post/anything-but-in-between me) when I think/talk about him.  

Thank you both so much for reading and hearing and sharing and… and …

Wildflower

[Anonymous]

I definitely still feel insane sometimes.   (raising one eyebrow emoticon)  

Mom told me for years that she broke up with him because he was too irresponsible and she wanted to make sure I wasn’t exposed to that   (wow, I’m really hearing that now, and that’s just absurd !).    

Actually, she blamed all her breakups on me, giving one reason or another why they weren’t good for me – usually after I’d finally let them in and started to depend on them.     Ooof.  

I’ve been wondering for a while now - but wasn't sure if I should ask -about that 35 years that keeps cropping up.  What happened to finally break your silence?

Wildflower

My mother did a good job of getting me to doubt everything and everyone (including myself) EXCEPT her actions, choices and opinions. I used to think I was crazy because my life was crazy. I don't anymore, not seriously anyway.

When she found a new boyfriend she would hammer away at me to think he was fantastic too. She wouldn't be satisfied if I too didn't think he was the greatest thing since sliced bread. Then when she'd bust with him she'd educate me about how evil and depraved he was, and play the victim with me nursing her poor wounded heart.

And she always was able to justify to herself her cruelty to him by his supposed cruelty to her. And I often swallowed it. She would even occasionally use me as the reason they split. And I knew that was crap.

I used to feel sick when sometimes in a rage she'd make me look at her stretch marks on her stomach shreiking, "You did this to me. Look at what you did to me." Aaahhh please, I hope I never remember that again.

Hey, thank goodness when she had me she never had to be snipped and have an episiotomy!!!        or she may have made me look at that, AAARRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

Some mother's??????? leave me speechless. That's why these stories you tell Wildflower about your mother's efffect on you!!!! I'm sometimes speechless for a while.  I feel a bit like a pinball machine, ping 150, ping 250, ping 350, ping 500, ping 1000, TILT!
 
But why did I break the silence. I think I was shocked, hurt, confused, angry and scared about something she'd done and I was trying to express and connect with her. I was probably using John's death as an example, saying something confrontational like, "You always ignore my feelings. Like when John died." I think I was trying to express my unexpressed grief and have her understand that my feelings about him and lots of other things were different to hers, but still valid. I wanted to tell SOMEONE, ANYONE, HER that I hadn't stopped loving him like she had.

I used to try to explain to her, "Just because I don't feel the same way about someone that you do doesn't mean I'm your enemy." She always expected me to like who she liked, and to hate who she hated. Otherwise I was disloyal and deserving of cruel and wicked treatment. And I had to embrace and replicate her feelings  immediately. When and where she decided, on the spot. No time to think. Quick, hate him or her now. More than once I heard groaning from the bedroom and looked in and there she was, shagging away, her butt going 50 to the dozen, pleasuring some guy who just the day before was (according to her) the greatest arsehole ever created, and she'd told me I wasn't to let him in if he came to the door.    Baaarf! Where's the bucket? Hey, but I could handle it, I was maybe 8 years old. I still get emabarrassed about this.  

And what a shock, total confusion and extreme anger I had when I learned John hadn't died in Vietnam. Probably pretty much in that order too. Every visit of hers always ended up causing the same series of emotions in me. Fortunately her visits only happened once every few years. And like an idiot witha short attention span, I'd forget it, get over it and come back for more. All this seems like a million years ago somedays. Blaaaah. Fingers down throat!!! to get rid of the taste of her in my mouth.

Definition of Insanity = Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different  result.

Thanks
CG

[Anonymous]

Hi, it's me again, peeping out from under the rubble. The world just collapsed again, temporarily of course. I'm made of pretty tuff stuff.

I just remembered something I forgot to add. It's that I never know what to believe with my mother. Some of the ways I've witnessed her screw with people's heads would make your blood shiver.

I can't even believe her 100% that John didn't die in Vietnam. She's just the type to tell me that, and go away laughing at how stupidly I would be combing the interstate phonebooks. Making hundreds of long distance calls looking for a guy who died decades before ( and with a really common name). She would love that, it's just the sort of thing she would do.

Once, for my birthday, I don't know, maybe I was 5 or 6, she gave me this huge wrapped gift. She had few of her goodtime card playing buddies over that night. The gift was wrapped in colourful paper and it was huge. I was so excited and happy, and I started unwrapping, and unwrapping and unwrapping. Never ending layer after layer after layer of newspaper. The gift was geting smaller and smaller. Get the picture. The outside wrapping was wrapping paper, the rest was newspaper. I kept unwrapping and unwrapping. I eventually revealed a bloody coin as my birthday present, to go and buy something the next day. Ha Ha. Very funny. They all thought it was a hoot. She'd forgotten my birthday (her excuse later) and did this as a party joke. I remember I cried kept a brave face, but later cried myself dry.

Hard to believe, isn't it, that any person could do this to any child. I guess I have reluctances on many fronts re John.

CG

[write]

More than once I heard groaning from the bedroom and looked in and there she was, shagging away, her butt going 50 to the dozen, pleasuring some guy who just the day before was (according to her) the greatest arsehole ever created, and she'd told me I wasn't to let him in if he came to the door

it's so horrible for children to be dragged into their parent's sexuality, so abusive. I've known several non-n people too who've done this in these supposedly 'enlightened' times, thinking they are teaching their children to be unrepressed or something...totally unacceptable blurring of boundaries.


Definition of Insanity = Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.

Yup, but how often we all go round the same cycles over and over.

Every visit of hers always ended up causing the same series of emotions in me.

it's horrible isn't it, one moment you're this confident capable adult, the next a helpless frustrated child again.

*sigh*

[Portia]

Ah CG.

Hey, thank goodness when she had me she never had to be snipped and have an episiotomy!!!    or she may have made me look at that, AAARRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

You made me spill coffee down myself!! *Snort*.
Don’t be embarrassed CG, get the crap out if you want to. She blamed everyone except herself didn’t she? Even blamed you directly, out loud, for the stretch-marks. If only our child’s mouths could have retaliated with adult words like: “it was your rabbit-shagging that got you pregnant - your fault, not mine!” Typical, seeing you as just an extension of her, making you agree with her feelings, opinions, for what they were worth. But no real emotion at all? Sounds N in my book.

Just read your birthday gift post. Damn it. Suppressing my anger for you, ok? BUT what the hell made her go to the trouble of actually doing all that wrapping up? That must have taken a while? Or was it really *funny* to her and the *joke* kept her going at it?? Or maybe she thought it could be the pass-the-parcel game? Ha – no, as if you’d have had your own friends around! I am really angry for you. How bloody humiliating and crushing – especially in front of other people. She was nuts! P

[rosencrantz]

And what a shock, total confusion and extreme anger I had when I learned John hadn't died in Vietnam.

When I read that all I could think was - I'd want to kill her. Total, overwhelming, over-the-top rage.  But remembering other things you've described from your past, I wouldn't put it past her to be messing you around either.
R

[Wildflower]

Portia wrote: BUT what the hell made her go to the trouble of actually doing all that wrapping up? That must have taken a while?

I have to say, CG, I’m with Portia on this one.  This was one of (ONE of) the first things I thought when I read your birthday gift story.  I’ll add, what made her go through the trouble to think it through??   In the time it would have taken her to drive anywhere to get you anything that would have been a million times nicer and more caring….she does this???        

CG wrote: I just remembered something I forgot to add. It's that I never know what to believe with my mother. Some of the ways I've witnessed her screw with people's heads would make your blood shiver.

What to believe?  Well, from here, the answer seems to be NOTHING.  Absolutely NOTHING.  I know that, in the context of John, it would be nice to think that one of the alternate endings is actually true.  And maybe that applies to other big question marks you have in your life from the past.  But you can never believe her if, as you said, she could be messing with you by suggesting that he’s alive.  This reminds me, in a much, much, much milder context, of how crazy it makes me to try to reconcile my mom’s versions of reality – and I actually believe that she means well.  It makes me sick to get inside her head.

You got away though.   And I hear in your stories that, well, they really need to be told.  Again, I completely agree with Portia.  Get this poison out of you, and don’t worry about being embarrassed.  But I can also imagine how poisonous it could be to re-live these experiences?  Whatever works for you, I want to support that.

Wildflower

[Anonymous]

Hi Wildflower, Rosencrantz, Portia

Yep, yep, yep. I shake my head too in wonder at the time it must have taken her. It's unbelievable, I know. I have so many similar stories, I won't bother to share. It all gets too boring after a while. Same plot, different victims. Oh, hang it, I will tell you this one. I was about 10 and it's sort of funny.

She loves chinese food, considers herself an expert on anything chinese, amongst other things. She went with a new boyfriend she wanted to impress to a well reviewed chinese restaurant. The food stunk according
to her and so she complained to the owner in her own unique caustic, authoritative, psuedo chinese food expert manner. The owner apparently was uncooperative and wouldn't replace the meals or refund. She calmly and graciously left the restaurant, not wanting to disgrace herself in front of her knew beau.

She came home furious and plotted her revenge which she executed with the precision of a swiss watch 2 weeks later on a Saturday night, the restaurants busiest time. She rounded up a  whole bunch of LIVE STRAY CATS by scouring freebies and the local pound. She put them all in hesian sack, and in the middle of dinner time she walked into the restaurant (her girlfriend went along for the laugh) and threw the bag of cats on the counter and asked for the owner. He came out an she accused him of not paying his bill. He didn't know what the hell she was talking about.

She got louder and accused him of trying to do her in. When he got loud she opened the sack and shook it and a bunch of mangey screeching cats flew all over the dining room, and she shouted at him as she and her friend turned and hurried out, "That's the last lot of cats you'll be getting from me."

She came home laughing till her head fell off ( now that's the only part I exagerrated, I swear!)

It's unbelievable isn't it. And I know it sounds like it's made up, but it's not.
The time it took her to co-ordinate this   , and the cats were accumulating in the house for days.    And add to that that  I know it really happened.

I agree with Portia, she's nuts and then some some. NPD probably the least of her problems. But an enlightening thought came into my mind today, as a result of reading through the different responses here from you and Rosencrantz and Portia and Write to mother's wrapped present. I saw a movie some time ago, I forget everything except the scene where the guy's been shot and has a bullet lodged near his spine. The doctor says it's to dangerous and there are too many risks associated with attempting to remove it. It's safer to leave it where it is. You'll be fine
and can live a long and happy life with it in there. No problems. So they left the bullet in. You get the picture. I feel the same way. I've think I have usually adopted to leave these cruelties buried and alone and hopefully they won't affect me at all if they are undisturbed???? Only her presence seems to disturb them, so I don't have her around. If that's avoidance, hey, it works for me!    

I wrote the story of the wrapping paper, why I don't know??? I think it's your fault Wildflower ((hug))          and thankfully in doing that I realised there are too many things like this that she has done to me. If I had to dig around and get them all out I'd never have a life, and I'd look funny cause I'd be full of holes. You know, I'd look like Jim Carrey in The Mask when the gangsters hoot him up and he's full of holes and has a drink and all the water spurts out of him like he's a fountain.

Portia you made a new cliche, you know that old one about being "knee-high to a grasshopper", how about saying "Why I remember back when I was only face-high to a pubis."

Thanks write, but I never thought mother did any of this stuff to help me be either repressed or unrepressed. I don't think she gave me or my presence or welfare a second thought at all. Unlike the peole who you know who shag in front of kids, that have some purpose and seem to have given it some deliberation. But I agree, it's harmful. I won't go back to the commune horror stories. I've done that here.

Thanks so much, you're much appreciated

CG

[Portia]

Thanks for the Chinese restaurant story CG. I would’ve laughed but I was too shocked. I guess that’s the delayed Narcissistic Rage in full flow? I wonder how easy it is for ‘them’ to delay like that. Yikes, a warning to all of us. You’ve made me realise that my ex-step-mother was an N too. I had little to do with her but that story sounded like her style and ‘pop!’ into my head it came.

And it explains a lot. I wonder how my half-brother (product of that marriage) is – haven’t heard or seen in 20 years and he was/is an ok bloke. Now his mother would’ve done exactly as yours did in the restaurant. Thanks for the ‘pop!’ moment. Another one recognised, catalogued and labelled: only several million to go. I feel like we’re in Invasion of the Body Snatchers.

Thanks for the new cliché – I haven’t laughed about that before! P

[rosencrantz]

Hi CG - I've sat pondering whether to say what's in my head and I've not got a conclusin to what I'm about to say but here goes...

You've said a couple of times about avoidance and denial being useful.   And it if works for you, that's fine.  I'm not about to 'tell' you that you shouldn't carry on in that way.

But I'm thinking of my own experience here.  There came a point where the pain of it all just wouldn't stay away any longer.  

Although my father's death was the final catalyst, the 'knowledge of the  pain' had been stealthily coming upon me for several years - just 'seeping' out and into my awareness.

Like you, I wrapped up the right hand side of my brain, my 'preferences' for understanding the world and I bound it with my thinking side, my logical side.  And I shut out the feeling side.  Feelings (etc) were rigidly bound in a leather belt, a straightjacket, totally rigid so I wouldn't 'know'.

I get a picture of your mother.  She was needlessly cruel, stupidly and vengefully cruel.  Not specifically directed at you, you were just 'conveniently' available.  Mine did her spitefulness 'out of mind', out of anger that I skipped out on her.  Whatever she did when I was a child she did because she wanted everything to be 'nice', she wanted to control things so I could be the child she had once been and so she could give me all the things she'd wanted. So I see that it's different so the solutions may be different, too.

But a couple of years ago, a straw broke the camel's back.  I slipped again.  Me, the rigidly 'in control' person, I completely lost it!!!  I just kept on making this terrible noise.  Aaaaaagh, aaaaaagh, aaaaaagh.  My H got me inside the house and I just carried on.  All the pain of all the years.  (I suppose that once upon a time they'd lock you away for that!!!) And then a couple of years later another crisis - just sobbing - why am I sobbing in response to my mother???  Then realising more and more.

So, what I'm trying to say is that it's seeping out.  

I'd look funny cause I'd be full of holes

 Perhaps you're already looking like a collander!  So you might as well unbung the whole thing and be in control of it than have it seep out in all sorts of unwelcome places and moments like I did.  

I'd have said the same as you once upon a time - sorted, done and dusted.  I got on with my life, I was effective, I had my career.  I had relationships.  I suppose I held my mother in contempt.  I shook my head in disbelief at how 'beyond belief' she was.  

But what I NOW realise is that all the things I achieved in my life were affected and damaged time and again by all the things that have come up in the past couple of weeks and now been resolved.  And at the time I had no idea.

So, it's just a thought to share.

I'm not trying to hide my own anger from myself when I say I think that what you'll be dealing with is the biggest rage this side of Mount Etna!!!  And I haven't got the fainest idea how one copes with that!!!  I do know that I went through a couple of days last year when I nearly 'lost it' as a full awareness gradually seeped into every pore.  But it was worth it for what came next.

Not sure - perhaps you can keep it buckled up forever.  But what else is getting buckled up with it??  I'm not suggesting answers, just sharing thoughts...

Take care
R