Voicelessness and Emotional Survival Message Board
Voicelessness and Emotional Survival => Voicelessness and Emotional Survival Message Board => Topic started by: JanetLG on May 16, 2007, 06:07:58 PM
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This subject of anorexia came up during the thread 'When I am in Church I have no voice to sing with', but it deserves a thread of its own, really.
When I was a child (middle one of three), my NMum scapegoated me and made my younger sister the Golden Child. My elder brother sat on the fence, my Dad was too busy working to notice much, really. Around the age of 12, I developed anorexia. Not the way the media always claims - I never dieted, never tried to 'emulate' skinny models in magazines, never took laxatives. I just got to age 12, was 4feet 11 inches tall, and weighed 5 1/2 stone (which is slim, but not bad for that age & height). Trouble was, for the next few years, although I got taller (eventually 5 feet 4), I didn't put on another ounce. My Mum, by that time, was having an affair and confiding in me about her 'exploits', claiming I was 'intelligent enough to understand that it made her feel better'. The fact that it tore me apart, and that I didn't want to be made to help her lie to my Dad, didn't seem to mean anything to her. For several years, the relationship with my Dad was almost non-existent, as he treated me the same way he treated her, as he thought I did it by choice. Nothing overt was ever said (until family therapy 20 years later).
I didn't have any medical help for the anorexia until I was 15, when I pleaded with her to take me to the doctor's as I had pain in my joints all the time, couldn't swallow, hadn't had a period for 18 months, and couldn't handle the school bullying any more. Grudgingly, she took me, but came into the surgery with me, so I got no privacy, and she answered the questions for me. When the doctor asked if anything was wrong at home, what could I possibly have said?
I was given (wait for it) a diet sheet for someone suffering from obesity, and told ' do the opposite of that'! Also, the (male) doctor suggested I went on the Pill (at 15), as a side effect of going on the Pill is often weight gain of around 10 lbs, and by his reasoning, 'if I saw what having a little weight on was like, I might get used to the idea'. I said, 'wasn't that rather dangerous, to give the Pill to someone so young, for such a daft reason, when I wasn't even sexually active yet?' I refused to be put on the Pill, and my Mum told me afterwards that I had been 'rude' to the doctor!
I stayed the same weight until I left home at 22, when I put on 2 1/2 stone in a year with no medical help (this is from a starting weight of 5 1/2 stone, remember!). I have never had a problem with my weight since. It's just not an issue now.
Question, then: WHAT CAUSED IT? Well, I have a theory, that I have never seen supported in print by any other person, until Ami, on this board today, on the previous thread. I think that anorexia is caused by NMothers who take so much emotionally from their daughters (almost always the daughters, as they are so much more of a threat than the sons). It is linked to a fear of the creativity and emotional resilience in daughters, that N's fear so much. It is nothing to do with copying images of models in the media, but, if you got as far as being grilled by a psychologist for your reasons for not being able to eat, while your mother's standing next to you in the surgery, wouldn't it be just about the only 'believable' answer to agree to? The NMother would never tolerate you saying the truth - that she'd taken everything else of value to you in your whole life - self-esteem, achievements, skills, - and rubbished them. The ONLY thing that she can't control (although she'll try really hard to ) is what you swallow, so you're reduced to controlling that. It's almost like Munchhausen's syndrome by proxy - they make you ill, then 'present' you to the medical profession, saying' I don't know WHAT to do with her, doctor, she just won't eat. After all I've done for her, too! I'm SOOO worried!'
In my case, I've always had an aptitude for embroidery. Could do it at 4 years old, was designing at 13, run my own design business now. One instance of how she tried to stifle my creativity: her mother (my Nan) gave my mum a large box of embroidery silks when I was about 9, for my Mum to give to me and my sister to have, as she could no longer see well enough to sew. Guess who my Mum gave the box to? You guessed it, my sister. Exclusively. Even though my sister didn't do embroidery. Sister gloated, endlessly. Didn't use the silks, but certainly wouldn't let me use them, either.
This withholding of things that your children want is something I find really weird about NMothers. It really shows the Bad Mommy Taboo in action. You're just not allowed to say' she did it on purpose'. With the embroidery silks, although it wasn't life-threatening, it was intensely annoying. With food, though, it's much more serious. She nearly killed me by withholding food from me for years. The other family members got proper food portions, but I didn't as 'you wouldn't eat it anyway'. What sort of person sees an anorexic and DOESN'T TRY to give them nourishing food? She'd laugh when I had stomach cramps, and want me to go to school when I was sick (so that she had the house empty when her 'boyfriend' came round).
I think I'm rambling, now. Anyway, the main thrust of my idea is that psychologists have got it wrong, and it isn't women with anorexia who are emulating models, or refusing to grow up, etc., it's the MOTHERS who control to such an extent that they'd literally kill you rather than see you be independent, leave home, get a better job than they did, get a boyfriend, etc.
The lasting effect of being treated like this by your own mother is that you are unable to nurture yourself properly, because no-one showed you how to do it. You don't feel entitled. Particularly, in my case, I don't feel that I should have anything visually beautiful, so my house is often untidy, and I find it really hard to treat myself even to small things such as a bunch of flowers, etc.
Ami, have you heard of the books by Louise Hay, such as You Can Heal Your Life? She's got a theory that things like physical pains have particular reasons, and we can learn from them, and then learn to be free of them. Well-known phrases can often enlighten us to what the pain might mean, although she has long lists of explanations in her books as well. For instance, stomach pains might mean someone is 'sick to their stomach' with something. Or they can't 'stomach it' any longer. If 'life has lost its sweetness' for someone, they might be likely to develop diabetes (sugar intolerance). It seems a bit simplistic at first, but it can be quite an eye-opener.
Have you also seen the book The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron? It's not just for 'painting-type' artists, but everybody. It's a book of writing and thinking exercises, but is really enlightening for creative people. You might enjoy that one!
Feedback, please, in case I'm barking up the wrong tree here!
Janet
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((((((((((Janet))))))))))
((((((((((Ami))))))))))
What monsters they were. What absolute monsters they were.
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I have just the opposite response-my frustration is medicated by eating too much. Sometimes I stuff my feelings with food. Although I relate to having sick feelings like headaches manifested when the stress levels are too high!
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When I get really stressed, I can't eat. I try, but I can't seem to get the food down. I have never been diagnosed with an eating disorder, but I've had several episodes where I stopped eating for a period of time. I was think about this today when I was trying to eat my lunch. I was hungry, but the thought of eating made me ill. I finally forced myself to eat. I remember at one point in college, I stopped eating, and I lived on diet soda and one candy bar a day. I hadn't eaten anything substantial in so long that the school psychologist threatened to put me in the hospital. I lost about fifteen pounds.
I have these little episodes. The last one was a couple of years ago, now this was aggravated by severe heartburn and a gastric ulcer, but I ate next to nothing for a couple of weeks.
I seem to have these episodes when my life feels out of control. Right now, I feel a bit out of control, and I have to consciously make myself eat.
I also have the opposite problem at times too, usually when I'm depressed. I'll start eating all the time. I once read that eating disorders are not necessarily caused from a desire to be thin, but rather because the individual suffering feels responsible for things they can't control. I have always thought that applied to my situation, very well.
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Tayana,
I think 'control' is at the heart of all eating disorders, but overeating, anorexia, bulimia - they're all versions of the same thing ...women in society today aren't supposed to have autonomy over their lives, and they are supposed to be HAPPY with that. If you've got an N mother, it's even worse.
Has anyone got other theories on what causes anorexia?
Stormchild,
Thanks for the hugs! It's weird, but I never saw my mother as a monster at the time, but when I was in counselling (about 10 years ago), the counsellor said to me 'Well, how COULD you have let yourself see her as a monster at the time? The realisation would have killed you. You HAD to be in denial at the time - that was your subconscious working to protect the core of your being. It might be painful to realise it now, but your subconscious knows you can cope with it now, so it's letting it out slowly'
Ami,
Thanks for the 'long' post (not long, really!). The inappropriate sexual behaviour towards others is a trait of N's that really surprised me, when I first saw it listed as a typical behaviour. My Mum *wanted* me to be 'jealous' of the fact that *she* could get a 'boyfriend', and I, apparently couldn't (at age 14, with anorexia, never allowed out of the house other than school - well yes, not likely, I'd agree. But isn't the behaviour STRANGE? Once I was adult, I asked several mothers how they thought of their daughters, and they were so glowing with pride, aware that their children were growing into beautiful women, able to achieve things in the world - what's so threatening to NMothers that they'd rather kill you than let you 'replace' them as 'the' adult female? Perhaps it's a Freudian thing, that they feel you're competing with your own father for his attention, and that they feel they'll lose if they allow that (that was never the case with me, by the way).
http://www.halcyon.com/jmashmun/npd/traits.html
This site has a good description of N traits - it could've been written about my mother (when I first came across it and read the 16 traits, the site says you're dealing with an N if 5 or more apply - 15 of them applied to my mother!
As for not letting you go back home when you needed to escape from a dangerous relationship - I've not heard that happen to anyone else either, before I started reading these boards! I thought it was just me. How can they be so awful?
One thing that my NMum said hundreds of times, which took away all self-esteem was that I was ugly. When I was in my early teens, I remember asking her why she kept saying it . 'Because you are.' Right, then, that's got that sorted. My own mother thinks I'm ugly. (Funny, though, that I look like HER. Wonder who's REALLY ugly, then?)
My husband has been telling me for 16 years that he thinks I'm beautiful, and I don't believe him. I don't know how he's got the strength to keep doing it, really. That's the terrible legacy of this stuff.
My Dad gave me some photos a few weeks ago of me when I was about three years old. I had forgotten about them. Just simple kiddie pictures of me playing in the garden, clutching a teddy. I couldn't believe how PRETTY I was. Blonde curly hair, nice smile, pretty dress - how threatening I must have been to my NMum!
I don't know how the media in the US approaches the issue of anorexia, but in the UK they're obsessed with this idea that it can *only* be caused by trying to copy skinny models. Because of what I'd posted on an open forum, I was contacted recently by a BBC journalist to give my opinion on the causes of anorexia, for a TV news programme 'feature'. When I explained my idea that it's very often controlling mothers, desperate not to lose control, and the anorexia is just a survival reaction gone wrong, the journalist just kept saying 'No, can we keep focussed here? What was it about MODELS that you were so fascinated with, that made you diet to excess?' He just wouldn't get it. They've got their theory, and they'll keep pushing it.
Ami, what you said about telling other people and they think you're crazy is so common. How can you tell people this kind of thing, and have them understand? I read somewhere that perhaps we should be pleased if they can't understand, as only someone who has been through it can possibly understand. So, when you open yourself enough to tell someone and they throw it back at you with a blank look, or stupid comments, I suppose you can at least say to them 'I'm glad you don't understand, because that means you didn't go through it too'. Not much consolation, but perhaps a bit of an explanation.
I've got a friend who, several times, has said 'I could NEVER cut my mother out of MY life!' She's a really good friend other than this insensitivty. I couldn't understand her behaviour for ages, until one day I saw a birthday card that her mother had sent her. It was so sweet, it made me cry. It had things on it like'I am so glad you're my daughter, You are so special to me...' This was not PRE-PRINTED stuff already in the card, this was what her mother had chosen to write!! Absoloutely incredible!!
When you said you mother 'punched you in the stomach' with inappropriate comments, were you linking that idea to your stomach pains that you get now, or was that a 'Freudian slip'? Perhaps there's a positive 'stomach' image that you can create for yourself, while you are healing from this.
As for Nmothers laughing when you're sick, I remember once when I came back from the doctor's, when I was about 20, and told my Mum that I'd just been told that if I didn't put on serious weight in the next 6 months, I'd be dead. I was terrified. Her reaction? 'Oh, don't make a fuss'!
It's so hard to nurture yourself, but I suppose we've got to do it for ourselves, as there certainly isn't anyone else to do it.
Janet
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I don't know how the media in the US approaches the issue of anorexia, but in the UK they're obsessed with this idea that it can *only* be caused by trying to copy skinny models. Because of what I'd posted on an open forum, I was contacted recently by a BBC journalist to give my opinion on the causes of anorexia, for a TV news programme 'feature'. When I explained my idea that it's very often controlling mothers, desperate not to lose control, and the anorexia is just a survival reaction gone wrong, the journalist just kept saying 'No, can we keep focussed here? What was it about MODELS that you were so fascinated with, that made you diet to excess?' He just wouldn't get it. They've got their theory, and they'll keep pushing it.
Janet - you came up against the Bad Mommy taboo. It's so much easier, and safer feeling, to blame a cultural construct, rather than to face the fact that there are lousy mothers out there, in droves. Hordes. Boatloads. I bet many people reading that last sentence I just typed are feeling a kind of shivery tension between the shoulder blades right now, and an upwelling desire to rebuke me sternly, just because I've suggested that Mommies Could Be BAD. That's how strong the brainwashing is.
Consider for a second that, even in fairytales, it's always the evil STEPmother. Not even in fairytales can we tell ourselves the unvarnished truth. The Greeks managed it... Medea, for instance... but those plays are not for the faint of heart.
In re people being unable to understand - I hate to say it, but I regard the ability to 'hear' another's situation when it differs hugely from my own as an indication of how much empathy and how much imagination/creativity someone has.
You don't have to experience every misfortune possible in order to 'get' the idea that others may experience horrific things that you have mercifully been able to avoid. Feelling 'superior' about something that is little more than luck, or grace [which is luck with a divine touch, in a way] is, to me, the ultimate hubris.
Obviously I'm not super-patient with people like that; I don't invest a lot of time in people who won't hear or believe me. Experience has taught me that this type of obliviousness is close kin to abuse. If someone who has a loving mother feels pain when I describe what my own mother was like, the most loving thing they can do for me is to understand that the pain they are feeling is a pale, diluted version of the pain that I was given, all my life, and to have the decency not to add to the pain I've already dealt with, in order to avoid their own comparative twinge. That kind of insight is extremely rare, and that kind of forebearance and longsuffering is even rarer.
As for Nmothers laughing when you're sick, I remember once when I came back from the doctor's, when I was about 20, and told my Mum that I'd just been told that if I didn't put on serious weight in the next 6 months, I'd be dead. I was terrified. Her reaction? 'Oh, don't make a fuss'!
Hate to say it, but has it ever occurred to you that your mother wanted you to die? It was the one sure way of ridding herself of the competition her sick warped mind thought you represented.
You might read People of the Lie, by Scott Peck. There's a case described in there in which a pair of very prissy, self-righteous parents had two sons. One committed suicide with a firearm. The younger one became very depressed following his brother's death, so his parents gave him the suicide weapon as his Christmas present.
Peck recognized this as attempted murder, even though the law does not, and did everything in his power to get that kid out of their custody. Successfully, thank God.
There are such parents, and they are all too often allowed to destroy their children.
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((((((((((((((((((((((Janet, Ami and Tayana))))))))))))))))))))
This is a very heart-wrenching and personal thread for me... Thank you so much for sharing. I am tired tonight, but want to respond soon.
Take care of yourselves and thank you again.
Love, Beth
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Hugs and love to everyone on this thread.
Ami,
Now, I must "face" things like this. and not keep them inside to POISON me.I have been poisoned up until now, carrying these weights- of feeling damaged and alone.-- yearning for my mother to "turn good" and love me.I have to face that this won't happen,either. This was a big reason of why I was sick. I wanted her to come and rescue me.. THIS sounds like it will happen,RIGHT?
I understand completely. It's so wonderful just to have people who understand. All I have ever wanted was for my mother to tell me that she loved me and was proud of me. But she doesn't do that, not really, not sincerely. She gave me a card for Mother's Day that said to our beautiful daughter, and I didn't believe it. It was like she was trying to fix something, but it's too late for fixing. I don't believe her when she says things like that. Most of the time she tells me what an awful mother I am. She harps on my weight, on my clothes, on my housekeeping. Nothing I do is right, and nothing is good enough. It's the ultimate hypocricy that she gives me cards that should make me cry, but she doesn't really mean them. Just once, I wanted to hear her tell me how proud she was of me, and actually mean it. It's never going to happen. I've accepted that it's not going to happen. I decided I couldn't live for her anymore. I had to live for me, and that meant doing things that made me happy and not falling for her guilt trips.
Once I was adult, I asked several mothers how they thought of their daughters, and they were so glowing with pride, aware that their children were growing into beautiful women, able to achieve things in the world - what's so threatening to NMothers that they'd rather kill you than let you 'replace' them as 'the' adult female?
I was always so jealous of my friends who had wonderful relationships with their moms, and their moms were always so proud and loving. I never had that. If I asked my mom to spend the day with me and just enjoy it, she would either find some way to make me miserable, or else she would refuse, or she would be too busy. I just didn't matter. This was especially bad when I was younger, and she was healthier. Work was more important to her than me, and then she would tell me she was working all those extra hours for me so I could have a good life. I didn't believe her then, and I don't believe her now.
One thing that my NMum said hundreds of times, which took away all self-esteem was that I was ugly. When I was in my early teens, I remember asking her why she kept saying it . 'Because you are.' Right, then, that's got that sorted. My own mother thinks I'm ugly. (Funny, though, that I look like HER. Wonder who's REALLY ugly, then?)
My husband has been telling me for 16 years that he thinks I'm beautiful, and I don't believe him. I don't know how he's got the strength to keep doing it, really. That's the terrible legacy of this stuff.
Is this a normal thing with nmoms? Because mine never used the word ugly, but she did tell me I was fat. She would say things like, you'd be so pretty if you just . . . (fill in the blank). She told me once that I was the coldest person she'd ever known. She told me that people think I'm either really shy or snobby. Nothing she's ever told me has made me feel pretty, attractive, or good about myself.
I don't know how the media in the US approaches the issue of anorexia, but in the UK they're obsessed with this idea that it can *only* be caused by trying to copy skinny models. Because of what I'd posted on an open forum, I was contacted recently by a BBC journalist to give my opinion on the causes of anorexia, for a TV news programme 'feature'. When I explained my idea that it's very often controlling mothers, desperate not to lose control, and the anorexia is just a survival reaction gone wrong, the journalist just kept saying 'No, can we keep focussed here? What was it about MODELS that you were so fascinated with, that made you diet to excess?' He just wouldn't get it. They've got their theory, and they'll keep pushing it.
I think that's pretty much the same here really. Everyone thinks its because people want to be super thin, and it's all about body image. I think it's more about low self-esteem and control than anything. I was never diagnosed with an eating disorder, but I know when I was teenager, I put myself on a restrictive diet of 500 calories a day. I lost weight, and my mom complimented me on how good I looked. Looking back, I recognize now that I was probably a borderline case, and should have been in therapy. It was worse when I went to college, and I was on my own. I have one really bad episode since I had my son where I couldn't eat, and then again about a year ago. Every time has been a time when there has been a lot of stress, and I've been really depressed. I know there's a connection somewhere, but when I look up eating disorders and read about them, it seems like its all related to body image. And to some degree it was, but not completely.
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Stormchild - yes, the Bad Mommy Taboo is HUGE, isn't it? But women are dying because society won't admit that the bad mothers can cause their own daughters to die of starvation.
It's weird what you said about stepmothers being vilified, but not birth mothers. I am stepmother to my husband's 2 kids from his first marriage (in their twenties, now). In an emailed 'conversation' with my Nsister, I told her, when she said I'd cut off 'the only real family you'll ever have' that actually I had a perfectly good family in my husband and two stepchildren, and their more distant relatives. She immediately spelt out to me the fact that I was deluding myself by claiming that they were anything to do with me at all, and that I shouldn't claim to be anything like a real mother, as 'it's not like you changed their nappies, or anything, in fact they were almost adults when you met them [12 and 14]' . She put the 'evil stepmother' bit onto me, with no proof whatsoever! I've always got on great with them, to the extent that I've left them most of my money in my Will. She told me in the past that I should leave my money to HER children, as I've apparently got 'no-one to leave it to'.
It's interesting that you see someone's ability to empathise as an example of their creativity - I see it like that too, which is why I was so disappointed in my friend who thought I was awful not to see my Nmum any more, as she's very creative - an embroidery designer, like me. But she's got her own issues with anorexia in her past, and won't talk about it yet, so I don't know how much in denial she is. She has said, at least, that when she *really* wanted a sewing machine for her 16th birthday, her mum got her a knitting machine, as that's what SHE had always wanted... Make up your own mind about that one. Perhaps she should start reading this board...?
I do think that my Mum wanted me to die. I think she has always wanted to 'get her own back' in a way. When she gave birth to me (at home), apparently the placenta didn't properly separate, and she was bleeding for hours, and no-one realised. She nearly died. She always told me that I did that on purpose! Also, while she was pregnant, she had a lot of discomfort from me 'scratching her' from inside, which was deliberate as well, apparently. So she'd decided I was 'difficult' before I was even born, and hated me, I think. To have killed me would have been the ultimate controlling behaviour, I think.
Gratitude28 - I wondered if this thread would resonate with people on here or not. If you want to share, please do, but if it's too painful, don't worry. It's just good to know, from the replies I've had, that it's not just me thinking this!
Ami, You can empathise because you're NORMAL. They're not. But yes, it does help if you see the same kind of situation happening to someone else, even if it's a traumatic one.
It's weird when someone says 'you're mother was a monster' and you think YES! Thanks for the validation! at the same time as thinking That's my mother you're talking about. Confusing, isn't it? That's conditioning, I suppose.
From what you say about what your mother did and said to you, it does sound like you still feel ashamed, but perhaps you can start to see that you are carrying her shame FOR HER. Really SHE should feel ashamed for her inappropriate behaviour, but she passed that onto you, and you've carried it for years.
When I was just about to stop seeing my NMum, I remember saying to her, 'I am going to stop keeping your secrets for you, I am going to stop carrying the guilt for you. You can deal with it yourself, because I am not doing it any more.' She looked absolutely terrified. She knew that by that I meant that I wouldn't hide the fact of her affair any more from anyone - within two weeks, her 'boyfriend' had ditched her, as soon as he realised I'd 'spill the beans' if asked about it. 18 years I'd kept their secret.
When I told her once that I would never consider having an affair, as I thought it was unfair to both the husband and the boyfriend, she just said 'you won't be able to keep your high standards. All my friends have had affairs, and you will too, just you wait.' They have to tar you with the same brush as them.
To tease your own daughter about sexual inexperience should be seen as child abuse, as it damages your self-esteem for life. It's hard to get over that one. Sorry you had to go through that, Ami.
Tayana - why did your mother give *you* a card on Mother's Day? Is that weird behaviour, or something you do in the US? :-P [I hope that comment doesn't cause offence. Cultural confusion, here...]
When you said you'd love her to tell you that she's proud of you, just once, that really struck a chord. I had an exhibition of my embroidery once, when I was about 18, and one of the visitors to it ( a man in his sixties) said to me that he just knew my parents must be so proud of me! I just looked at him blankly. My mum didn't even bother going to see the exhibition, as she wouldn't have been the centre of attention. They love to deflect attention from you, or deflate you if they can't do that, rather than see you get the recognition you deserve. On my wedding day, the ONLY thing my mum said to me all day was 'Doesn't your sister look nice?'
Telling you that you're too fat/thin/ short, whatever, is just their way of making you feel BAD. As long as you feel bad, they feel good. How twisted!
I used to read all the books I could lay my hands on about anorexia, but they all seemed to focus on this body image idea, and they also seem to keep saying 'anorexics lie, so don't believe a word they say, they'll hide food, they'll cheat on nutrition programmes,' etc etc. Nothing, ever, about what might have caused women to be in such a dreadful situation. Nothing about the family backgrounds of anorexics. Just bad, bad anorexic girls who are liars, and the hard time their parents have trying to MAKE THEM eat.
Ami, About your last post - yes, the hard thing is not just realising that they actually had all that power over you. It's the fact that they really ENJOYED it. And they're your MOTHER. It certainly is a lot to face about your own mother. No wonder we have issues about nurturing ourselves.
Love to everyone here.
Janet
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Tayana - why did your mother give *you* a card on Mother's Day? Is that weird behaviour, or something you do in the US? [I hope that comment doesn't cause offence. Cultural confusion, here...]
When you said you'd love her to tell you that she's proud of you, just once, that really struck a chord. I had an exhibition of my embroidery once, when I was about 18, and one of the visitors to it ( a man in his sixties) said to me that he just knew my parents must be so proud of me! I just looked at him blankly. My mum didn't even bother going to see the exhibition, as she wouldn't have been the centre of attention. They love to deflect attention from you, or deflate you if they can't do that, rather than see you get the recognition you deserve. On my wedding day, the ONLY thing my mum said to me all day was 'Doesn't your sister look nice?'
Janet,
She give me a card for every holiday with something sappy inside it, so we can observe the nicety of the thing without being sincere. This year, my card had written inside "To our beautiful, wonderful daughter . . ." And I wanted to say, in what dreamland have you ever considered me beautiful, and when did I become wonderful, usually you tell me what a screw up I am.
I can empathize totally with the way your mother acted about your exhibition and at your wedding. I'm a writer, and I've had some things published. Anytime I've let her read any of my work, she's found something wrong with it. Or she tells me I need to write something else, or else I shouldn't be writing about that. She has this hangup about sex, and I write a lot of romance type stories. She doesn't want to hear about anything that has sex in it, not even just intimacy type situations, a cuddle, comfort, etc. That's raunchy. She's made some very inappropriate comments to me about that sort of thing. I sometimes wonder how I managed to have a fairly healthy view about sex, because I didn't get it from my mother. When I got pregnant right out of college her comment to me was, "What about all that birth control we talked about?"
I wanted so badly to say, "What talk? You've never talked to me about sex. You wouldn't even answer a question I had about my period. We never talked about birth control, dating, boys, girls, men, women, or anything. You bought me a book, and I filled in my education from my father's playboys and confession magazines. Talk! We don't talk! We can't even have an adult conversation, because you lie to me." Every time I get frustrated with my son she would tell me, "Don't you wish you'd just kept your legs together." To this day, ten years later, we have never talked about my feelings towards my son's father, about men, sex, sexuality, or why I don't date. She told my aunt that I was hurt too bad, and she didn't think I would ever find anyone, basically that I was too much of a b**** and no one would want me.
Sorry to prattle on. I got a bit carried away.
I used to read all the books I could lay my hands on about anorexia, but they all seemed to focus on this body image idea, and they also seem to keep saying 'anorexics lie, so don't believe a word they say, they'll hide food, they'll cheat on nutrition programmes,' etc etc. Nothing, ever, about what might have caused women to be in such a dreadful situation. Nothing about the family backgrounds of anorexics. Just bad, bad anorexic girls who are liars, and the hard time their parents have trying to MAKE THEM eat.
I don't believe that they are bad girls. I think that not addressing the cause of the issue is why so many girls have relapses. I do think that when there is a great deal of pressure to look, act or be a certain way that it contributes to the problem, not so much parents telling their daughters they are too fat/thin/etc, but not building up their self-esteem by complimenting the things that are good about them. I was never good enough for my mom, no matter what I did. My grades weren't good enough. I didn't look attractive enough. My friends were wrong. She didn't like the clothes I wore. There was never anything that she was proud of, never anything that was right. I've wanted to be a writer since I was 8, but I've heard all my life that I shouldn't bother, that it was just a fantasy, that I needed to stop living in a fantasy world. I'm glad I didn't listen about that, because I swear writing keeps me sane.
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Tayana,
Your post is very well written - I bet your books are bl**dy good!
I think that the medical profession doesn't want to look at the root cause of *most* illnesses, never mind anorexia. They just treat the symptoms, and send people off with some drugs to dull their emotions for a bit.
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Ami,
I have read before that if you *think * you might have NPD, then you definitely haven't, because N's would never consider themselves to be so imperfect as to have a mental illness. Questioning yourself is common, especially for us, as we had such a screwy upbringing.
The most common feeling I get is anger. First emotion is always anger, and that comes out in illnesses like migraines, sinusitis, etc. Feeling anything else takes a lot of concentration. Contentment is almost impossible. I think feeling fear and feeling anger are very closely related, they're just expressed differently.
Yes, I'm exhausted today. Going to go to bed now...
Janet
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((((((((((((((((((Ami, Janet, Tayana))))))))))))))))
You have opened my eyes. I am so sorry.
Your mothers were ugly and afraid.
And you did not deserve it.
Never.
You were beautiful perfect innocent children, and they projected their ugliness and self-loathing and shame into you.
It is a beautiful thing to see you all shedding it, insight by insight.
Your growth jumps off the page.
I, personally, would like to say I am very very very proud of you!
love
Hops
(forgive the shortcut of not addressing each, but I'm scrambling)
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Hello,
I am new to this. I understand what you are going through. My husband is an N... I too, feel like I can take no more. It's rough. We have two kids, 12 and 16(boys) and I have basically been a stay at home mom for quite a few years. My husband is a dentiist and has kept me finanacially strapped for years. I need to find a way to get out of this and be the person I once was. Maybe it is good to talk to others in similar situations, since we understand the craziness.
Lovetoski
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Ami,
Your post about when you started your periods reminded me of when I started mine. I was 11, and, like you, I was horrified, as I knew nothing about what was happening. The school 'nurse' sorted me out, and rang my Nmum at home to let her know before I went home. When I arrived home, all my Mum said was 'I'm so sorry!' and burst into tears.
But it's the way my periods were handled which caused the problem. My Mum's job was geriatric nurse (bear this in mind as you read on). She took control of 'supplying' the pads I needed for my periods, and so I had to ask her for more, whenever I needed them, rather than being able to buy my own. She supplied me with really strange pads, nothing like my friends at school were using. They were large and bulky, and had to be attached to plastic knickers with poppers. I put up with these for a few years before telling her that I wanted the 'normal' sort that other women used (the ultra-thin, stick on pads that were new on the market then - the kind I knew SHE used). She complained that they were expensive, but grudgingly agreed.
It was only once I was an adult, that it dawned on me that what she had made me use were OLD PEOPLE'S INCONTINENCE PANTS. She was stealing them from the hospital where she worked. No wonder I felt so awful about my period (still do). I can't wait to reach the menopause and be done with it. I feel such shame every month, the feeling's never gone away.
Hops
Thanks for your lovely post - it made me feel a lot better.
Janet
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Ami,
Your post about fear really got to me. I also have this problem about fear. I so want to get away from my family. I've wanted that for years, but I'm so afraid to try it. I'm afraid that she'll do something to ruin it, or I'll fail and will live up to everything she's ever said, that I can't make it on my own.
I had a very heart wrenching night with my son, who's 10. He has Asperger Syndrome, a mild form of autism. My mom likes to tease him that he's fat. He doesn't do teasing well at all, most of the time he takes any sort of teasing very seriously. He's also small for his age, and a real beanpole. So when my 10 year old is crying and saying, "I'm fat. I need to go on a diet," it really ripped my heart out.
I am so afraid to break away. I'm afraid that my Nmom will somehow be there, or that I'll ruin my kid. I constantly second guess myself and try to figure out if I'm being too controlling or if I'm just being stern. I don't want to be like my mom. She tells me that she thinks his school has mistreated him, which it has to a degree, but she's also yelled and screamed at him all year about school. She's put all this pressure on him to keep his good grades, even though I said grades really didn't matter. He's 10. He doesn't have to have straight A's.
My fear and anxiety have caused issues with my stomach for years. My friend told me she thought all of my stomach problems were due to stress, and I didn't believe her at first, but now I do. I got out of a really bad work situation, and after about eight months, my stomach did start to get better. Of course, now I'm trying to do this break for freedom, and it's flaring up again.
I'm not so afraid of my anger. My anger is the only thing that seems to help me accomplish things. I have to get angry, and stay angry to accomplish anything, mostly I'm afraid of success.
Janet,
I had a friend who's mom did something very similar with her pads. She always bought her the kind that had to be attached with a belt. I remember giving her some of my "new" ones and she was so surprised because she didn't even know they existed.
I think one of my worst memories is being about 10 and playing Barbies when my mom said, "Do you want me to tell a secret?" And of course, I did. So she told me that I was a young woman now, and I wasn't her little girl anymore because I was growing up. This was the closest thing we ever had to a talk about sex. I just remember feeling so abandoned because I wasn't her little girl anymore.
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Tayana,
Thanks for sharing that.
I think you know better than you think you do about what's right your you and your son. Your mother should mind her own business (but being an N, she won't!). I broke off contact with my Mum 13 years ago. It was one of the most difficult decisions I've ever made, but looking back, I think it was absolutely necessary, and I widh I'd done it sooner. She'll try her hardest to get you back, but it's your life (and your son's) and she doesn't have the right to control you.
I'll repeat that : she doesn't have the right to control you.
Your Mum telling you that you 'weren't her little girl any more' once you started your periods is such a strange way to deal with your own daughter growing up. I haven't got children, so I find it hard to understand how any mother can do that, as I expect that I'd be as supportive as possible to a daughter who's just going through completely normal bodily changes. How do mothers reading this feel about it?
I must admit, I felt really vulnerable, and ashamed, writing about my experience of having to use incontinence pads. I've never told ANYONE that before, not even my husband, or girly friends - not anyone. It's good to get validation about it, as it's screwed me up for years.
Keep writing, please!
Janet
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Finding Peace,
I feel for you, and I understand, although my mother really ignored me once I had my period. I was grown up then. It's so sad that your mother did that to you, and didn't seem to care.
Ami, This line really hit home.
A true monster takes away the joy of innocence. It is a story about good and evil, beauty and ugliness.This monster could have been the monster is a fairy tale.
That's so true. I think that's what my mom did to me. She took away my innocence and made me her confidant so that I knew the sordid details of her marriage. She'd try to turn me against my father by telling me all of the awful things he did to her. She always assumes that everyone is talking about her or conspiring against her when you want to have a private conversation with another family member. She'd tell me all of these things about how she couldn't trust my dad, and I swore when I grew up and had a relationship, that I would be honest. I wouldn't constantly lie to my partner like my parents do.
That's what our moms did to us, took away our innocence, and it's an awful thing. I'm so glad this board is here.
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Finding Peace,
Thanks for your post - that was really well expressed. You had me reading it in a state of tension, as I *knew* how it was going to end! I hadn't realised until recently just how much my Mum's behaviour changed once I started my periods, but for mothers to be so deliberately vicious when they feel you are 'growing away' from them is unbelievable. The effects of being treated so negatively over the issue of periods and all that that entails has caused problems for me of self-loathing for years. It's bad enough that society encourages us to deal with everything about periods as if it doesn't happen, but when your own mother does it...!
Just goes to show how screwed up they are, I suppose.
Ami,
The feeling of numbness that you mention is something that I carry with me all the time. I have to concentrate just to 'stay in the moment'.
Janet
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Ami - ......
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I am so very sorry that your mothers could not give you the simple things like a smile or that looks wonderful even if you painted your nails up to your eyeballs. If you cut your bangs off to your forehead which my daughter did. I would still tell you maybe it's a good idea that we go to the hair cutter the next time but you look beautiful anyway.
Your mother could not give away what she didn't have. You got short changed. She was wrong.
What I love about you girls is you know you were these great little kids. What I really love about you is that you know now that there is nothing you could of done to change it so now you are accepting it. There was nothing wrong with you. It was them.
Now you grieve.
They were empty people. Walking shells of something that resembles a mother. They gave you life, food and a home but did not know how to live life with you. They had no clue. They were already Inner dead when they had you.
But I see you are not. You are very much alive inside out. Your climbing through the rumble of explosions of craziness that was dropped upon you for years. You see light and hands extended reaching to pull you through showing you there is life, good life. Your leaving them behind with sadness and grieving but understand that you do not have to remain there with them. You would of loved for them to see the same light but they can't they have always been walking wide awake with their eyes wide shut.
You girls are very strong. I feel scared and sad just from walking with you on your post. I'm proud of you all too.
Love
Deb
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Ami,
What you said really struck a chord with me:
" I want to say something strange, but I think that you will understand. I am "shocked" when people"affirm " that I had a bad mother. "
It's so much more common for people (not on this board, but just about everywhere else) to tell you no, you were wrong, your mother DID love you, she DID want the best for you, etc etc, (even if they never knew her) - they can't face up to the fact that some mothers are BAD!!
It *is* shocking to have your ideas and feelings affirmed, because it has so rarely happened before. It's a shock to be believed, for once.
Deb,
Yes, sometimes I believe that I was an OK kid, but it takes a lot of grieving to handle the fact that my own mother despised me and tried to annihilate my self-esteem and creativity. Still working on that one!
Janet
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Deb - that was absolutely beautiful. Thank you.
Peace
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Janet - Ami,
" I want to say something strange, but I think that you will understand. I am "shocked" when people"affirm " that I had a bad mother. "
Ditto. Against all evidence to the contrary, I still struggle with accepting that she was a bad mother. As I remember more and more, it becomes so obvious, but a part of me still doesn't want to accept it. I am not sure why :?
Peace
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Hi Peace,
Can you think of her as emotionally ill?
Hops
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OK - I am getting behind the posts again...
Ami - You mentioned that you lost it when your father stated she was fine.
It is really odd - before I read your post, I had a thought earlier today that I see a lot of posts about your incubator (aka mother – I hope this doesn’t offend – sometimes I hide behind dark humour) – but not your father. I was thinking about this, and it reminded me of something my T said when I was in therapy. He said, “I keep writing MOM with capitals. I never write in capitals. I think my subconscious is telling me that there is something going on there – you hardly ever talk about her. Do you think we should talk about your Mom?” I thought about it for a minute and replied, “No, she isn’t physically abusive that often, she is just kind of there, a presence in the background, but that is about it.”
He was so right. Neglect and abuse can be overt and it can be passive. My mother never lifted a finger to protect me. One time I asked her if her parents ever hit her. I figured that if she had been hit, then maybe this would explain why she let it continue. I will never forget it, she got this look of total shock on her face and said, “Ohh Noooo, I was a good girl, my parents would never have hit me.” I was devastated by this – the obvious implication was that I was a bad girl and deserved what I got. I am sorry, but I don’t understand how a 2 year old deserves to be slapped in the face for not going to sleep – nonetheless, in her mind, I deserved it.
From what you said, it seems to me that maybe your father falls into the same category. I may be projecting here, you haven’t written a lot about him so I am not sure that it is the same. In my case, I feel that my mother sold me out to save herself. Sounds to me like your father did the same thing when he denied that there was anything wrong with your mother – when, IMO, her actions clearly define her as an emotional infant.
If it is true, this adds a whole new layer to the betrayal.
You also mentioned that they are destroyers of innocence (Tayana you said the same thing). When I had kids, it was a real eye-opener to me. My daughter is currently the age that I was when I was supposed to do an art project for an inter-school district competition. It was not required. I was young, but had a bad habit of forgetting things. The night before the project was due, my mother started in on me for forgetting. It was really nasty – that cold, voice, “What is wrong with you that you can’t remember anything… You will never make it anywhere if you can’t start to remember. I can’t be responsible for remembering everything for you – what will you do when you are an adult if you can’t remember anything” And on and on. It wasn’t screamed at me, it was said in that nasty, cold voice - as a statement of fact.
That night I did the project. About a week later, I came home from school and my mom was sitting in the kitchen. She was clutching something to her chest – she said to me, "You won first place in the art competition. You got a trophy. I don’t know whether I should give this to you or not. You don’t deserve it. You didn’t do that poster until the night before it was due." Out of hundreds of kids, I won first place. Did she say congratulations? No, just put me down some more. For about 2 months after that, my mom suddenly developed an interest in drawing. I never saw her draw before in my life. She drew all of these pictures, signed and framed a couple of them, and hung them on the wall; my artwork – trashcan.
You know the funny thing, I completely forgot this incident until a couple of months ago. This was the kind of thing that just happened on a day-to-day basis when I was growing up. It was normal. As an adult, I now realize that she was insanely jealous that I won something, and had to take the success of that away from me. The way she was clutching it to her chest, they way she started drawing and framing her own pictures. I had no idea that this was what was motivating her when I was a kid – when I was a kid, all I took away from that incident was that I didn’t deserve to win because I had trouble remembering and that I would never amount to anything.
I look into my daughter’s eyes and see that innocence. It is totally age-appropriate for my daughter to forget things. Instead of criticizing her for it, I find a way to help her remember – notebooks, bulletin boards, etc. And if something gets forgotten, and she gets upset – I ask her, in 20 years, is it really going to matter if you forgot this? If she won first place out of hundreds of kids – even if she did the project last minute – I would throw a huge party for her to congratulate her.
In a lot of ways, the only person we had to rely on growing up was ourselves. I see the innocence, happiness, and light in my daughter’s eyes, and I figure that I am doing pretty good considering that I didn’t really have parents. Look at the wonderful relationship you have with your children – IMO, this is a really strong statement of who you are and the strength you have to break the cycle of abuse. Not an easy thing to do.
Janet – you summed it up in one sentence: Just goes to show how screwed up they are, I suppose.
Yes – and I think it is testament to how strong we were to have survived and to recognize and break the pattern – I think it is remarkable that we were able to do this despite having emotional infants as parents.
Sorry for the long ramble - got on a bit of a rant there!!!
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Hi Hops,
I saw your post - this is a really good question, and part of the problem for me I think. I have to run - 2 hungry kids just charged in the door. I will post later. thanks
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Finding Peace,
Congratulations on coming first with your artwork!! (Even though it's a bit late to be saying it, you still deserve to be congratulated!)
It reminded me of when I was 6. At the end of the summer term, all the kids made a decorated portfolio, in which to carry home the art they had made during the previous school year. I was so proud of mine, as I was good at art. I took mine home to 'present' to my mum, and guess what her reaction was? Screwy, just like your mum's was. She said 'Don't think I'm having THAT STUFF on the walls!'.
She made me go out to the dustbin, tear each painting on half, and stuff it in the bin immediately, even though I was in tears. Talk about annihilating the opposition. How awful to be that terrified of creative competition FROM A SIX YEAR OLD.
I've never forgotten her behaviour, and it makes me upset to even write this. As I've mentioned on here before, I design embroidery for a living now, but I've got no confidence in my designing ability, really, so if someone's offhand about my work, or openly critices it, I'm distraught for days. Thanks, Mum.
Hopalong,
I have tried to think of my mum as emotionally ill, or mentally ill, or whatever, but whith 'normal' people who are 'ill', it seems to be so much more 'benevolent' - even if people are irritable when they're in pain, etc, you can forgive them because they don't mean it. N's seem so determined to be mean (even though some explanations of NPD say that they don't consciously set out to be that awful, it feels like that when you're on the receiving end).
Janet
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Hi Hops,
Between you and Deb, my mind has been cycling all night.
You asked if I could think of her as emotionally ill. You hit the nail on the head (how do you do that so well – and in so few words?).
I do see her as emotionally ill but don’t want to, and this is why I struggle with calling her a bad mother.
I believe that my mother is who she is given the totality of her life experiences, be it the generation she was raised in (very rule-bound and restrictive to women), an abusive childhood (although she denies this I suspect she was emotionally abused), living with a very abusive husband….. I feel for her. She is miserably unhappy - she never found the strength, courage, or wisdom to question. She just blindly accepted what was in front of her – when it got too ugly she twisted reality into something she could live with, a reality that bore no semblance to the reality I lived with. She did this for her survival – regardless of what it did to me. I think a lot of people are like this – they never question, which is what allows the cycle of abuse to continue. While I would rather kill myself before I sacrificed my kids for my well-being, I can understand how she came to be who she is. I could even accept it if she would just stop abusing me. But she can’t.
The problem for me, I think, is that if I see her as emotionally ill, it lessens her culpability.
As an extreme example, I know of someone who has paranoid schizophrenia with OCD. She is a mess (not meant in a nasty way – she has a very severe case) and can be extremely abusive. I don’t hold her accountable for her actions – she cannot control them. If she were my mother, I would feel responsible to care for her, to respect her for who she is right now given her illness, and allow her, as she is, in my life.
Along the same lines, if I allow myself to think of my mother as emotionally ill, then it excuses her behavior, and as a result, I should respect her for who she is right now given her disease, and allow her into my life.
While part of me does feel this way (which is why I struggle with giving her the label of bad mother) – that calm quiet inner voice I spoke of before - screams NO. NO MORE. She has caused so much damage and pain, and continues to do so whenever she gets a chance. I feel like I am a shadow of what might have been. I repeatedly tried to get through to her and I can’t, all I got was more abuse. I just can’t take anymore. I went NC last fall; for me to enforce this, I need to hold her accountable, the alternative is unacceptable.
But you know, you have me thinking, maybe I can find a way to allow my compassion for her and to accept her emotional illness, without sacrificing myself and my life at the same time. Maybe instead of trying to deny that she has an emotional illness, I can find a way to accept that I cut her out of my life despite the emotional illness and that my decision to do this is OK. Is that possible? Can a decision to cut someone out of your life when they have an illness actually be OK?
Or maybe, if I think of her illness as severe as paranoid schizophrenia, I could have her in my life, and disregard anything that comes out of her mouth as a symptom of her disease. I don’t know if I have the strength to do this. So much nasty, slime-filled, radioactive, sludged-filled water has gone under the bridge and continues to flow under the bridge. I just don’t know. Maybe I am being selfish, but I cringe inside at the thought of allowing her back in.
Either way, it would be a huge step towards finding peace.
If any of this makes sense it is a miracle – Deb’s post hit me pretty hard (in a good way – I am a little rusty with emotions and have been watering up since I read it). One of the things she said:
You would of loved for them to see the same light but they can't they have always been walking wide awake with their eyes wide shut.
really, really struck home. Maybe the next step for me is to accept her illness, all the while knowing that what she says and does can’t hurt me unless I allow it. Then I can let her be a part of my life, and move on. I am just so tired of being hurt – I don’t know if I can do this.
Hops, thanks for asking that question and Deb, thanks again for that post. You’ve given me a lot to think about. This board really is a wonderful place.
Peace
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Oh Janet,
I am so sorry your momster did that to your artwork – there is no excuse. How awful. I just can’t fathom how a mother could do the things ours have done. I picture myself doing that to my kids – and it would just break their hearts – I couldn’t do it.
IMO, you should be proud of yourself. I think children sacrifice a lot to try and please a parent. As a child, it would have been very in character for you to throw away your love of embroidery, in an attempt to please your mother. You didn’t. Despite all of the negative reinforcement, you preserved something you loved as a child and continued with it into your adult life. Not only continued with it, but have become successful at it. You did not allow her to take that away from you – good for you!
I would love to see you make a wall hanging out of your art and display it proudly. Maybe (if you have time) small pieces of embroidery designed around positive memories in your life made into a quilt – so that every time you see it hanging in your home, it is a symbol of your strength to hold onto what you loved, of good moments in your life, and reinforcement that somehow despite the craziness of your childhood, you not only survived, you turned out better than OK. You deserve that.
Peace
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Peace, Janet--
Late to work so super short.
if I allow myself to think of my mother as emotionally ill, then it excuses her behavior, and as a result, I should respect her for who she is right now given her disease, and allow her into my life.
it excuses her behavior-- no, I think it just explains it
I should respect her for who she is right now given her disease-- maybe "accept", not respect? Can't respect cruelty.
and allow her into my life-- oh no, no, heavens no. She's emotionally ill and might as well be a rattlesnake.
If you learn how to handle a rattlesnake as well as the Crocodile Hunter just for the sake of being able to walk through your life and you want to accept her as one of the things you'll navigate around, well okay...
But I think you're just as sane (or saner) if you choose to hike even paths through pleasant hills.
love to you both and I am mentally hanging every single piece of your precious childhood artwork in lovely frames all around my home.
Those reactions from your mothers were heartbreaking to hear. Only sick broken blunted emotionally amputated "mothers" (small m) would do that to a child.
I think you both need to let out your suppressed inner artists!!!!
lots of love,
Hops
CB--You are so so wise. You have seen it and named it and you're just so not confused. You help me think more clearly every time you write.
love
Hops
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Thanks for all the affirmation as to my 'suppressed inner artist', etc! I have always thought that making me throw away my artwork was one of the meanest things my NMum did. Every time I design something new, I think: " Pppprrrrph to her!" (My husband says this is how you spell a <raspberry> in an email!)
Peace,
As to understanding your mother to be emotionally ill, leading to having to excuse / accept her behaviour, which might lead on to having her back in your life...DON'T DO THAT, PLEASE!
Try to separate the two ideas. Possibly (I can't do this bit, but perhaps you can) you could 'understand' her as having a mental illness. That's an issue on its own.
Having reached that point, whether or not it leads to having her back in your life MUST be taken in context. If dealing with her causes you terrible stress, etc, regardless of whether she's ill or not, YOU deserve to have peace in your life. It shouldn't be that an *accurate* description of what she is/was means that you *have to* deal with her again. I have had NC with my NMum for 13 years now, and it's only gradually become bearable as time has gone on. To have gone back to seeing her, I now realise, would have taken away all that I have achieved over the years, because *they don't change*. She would be exactly the same to me all over again, if I let her within screeching distance of me. As CB says, she doesn't deserve to be in your life. As survivors of all this stuff, we sometimes have difficulties accepting that we deserve *anything*, safety and contentment included (or even a piece of chocolate :-) )
Coming to some kind of acceptance leads to eventual peace of mind, I know, but then I think you need to move forward, not back into the pit.
Janet
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I seem to have overdone it.
I definitely think I'm allowed chocolate.
Cheeks bulging...
Hops
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Yes, Hops, of all the things I have had to re-learn, the ability to allow myself chocolate has been one of the easier ones :-)
To *stop* eating it is a bit more difficult...
Janet
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Hops and CB, what I am hearing is that a decision to cut someone out of your life when they have an illness is OK under some circumstances – and that it is OK to take care of yourself.
I so desperately want to believe this, but I really struggle with it. I am like the elephant who was chained their entire life who finally snapped. I broke the chain at the stake and have walked away, against all training, but the chain (guilt) is still around my ankle – and I see no way to get rid of it.
I think as a result of many factors (societal brainwashing; religious brainwashing at a very young age – complete with threats of hell-fire, brimstone, and eternal damnation if I did not comply; severe corporal punishment; emotional neglect; etc.), I have a belief that no matter what, you have to respect your parents, and even if you can’t respect them, you owe them.
She is also such a sad person. She would often come crying to me that her life was so hard, that living with my father was so difficult and draining. I was always expected to be there to pick her up whenever my father turned it on her (little ironic that I had to pick myself up – she was never there for me when he turned it on me). Nonetheless, I could understand this, it was very difficult living with my father. For me to cut her out of my life, I feel like I am kicking a puppy that has already been kicked.
I also realized from something that Ami posted that I never really thought of my mother as abusive when I was a child – she rarely hit or screamed, whereas, my father was over the top abusive – raging, screaming, slapping, shaking, hitting… She was my yardstick as to what was normal. It wasn’t until last year that I realized that the yardstick I was measuring against wasn’t quite right. Even though she didn’t hit me, she was toxic wasn’t she? I am beginning to realize that she is more like a great white shark disguised as a puppy – which is helping.
Like Janet said (so much more succinctly) – as children growing up with parents like these sometimes we have difficulties accepting that we deserve *anything*, safety and contentment included.
What a tangled mess. Good news is that I am slowly unraveling it string by string - thank you all so much for your responses! I am so used to only having myself to rely on that it is hard for me to ask, let alone trust, someone else to help me. On many different levels, it has really helped me to hear your responses – thank you so much.
Now I am ready for some chocolate!!!
Peace
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Hi Peace,
What an amazing, outstanding image
she is more like a great white shark disguised as a puppy – which is helping.
I am slowly unraveling it string by string
You sure are.
I have total confidence.
Hops
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((((((Dear Ami)))))))
Thank you so much. I felt so protected when I read your post - it was a wonderful feeling (no one ever protected me as a child).
It has been an emotional rollercoaster for me over the past year. While I am 99.9% resolute in my decision to go NC - I still suffer from guilt as a result of this decision. Sometimes I can remind myself of all the abuse and dump the guilt, and at other times, I forget the abuse, and am swamped by the guilt.
At one point, I had hoped that I could be strong enough in myself to allow her back into my life – if I could do this, then I could get rid of all that guilt that I am hurting another human being, that I am disappointing the rest of my family not to mention society in general (not that that is a real big concern), and I could do this and still be at peace with myself. A win-win solution. I am coming to realize that this is a pipe dream. I am standing on that bridge looking down at that nasty, slime-filled, radioactive, sludged-filled water and I don’t think I could bring myself to jump in for any reason. I used to think that guilt was the price I had to pay for my freedom, and that all in all, it was a small price to pay considering the alternative. However, after joining this board, I am beginning to realize that maybe I don’t have to pay anything. Maybe I can consider that IOU paid in full.
In another thread, axa made a reference to peeling back the layers of denial (thank you axa). I think that this is true for me - I am still in the process of peeling back the layers of denial. As I peel more and more layers back, although painful, I understand at a deeper more fundamental level that she really was toxic and that I can let go of the guilt. It still hurts. I do feel sorry for her; she was once a small baby who desperately needed nurturing and love as well.
That being said, through your posts, as well as Janet’s, Tayana’s, Hop’s, CB’s and so many others on this board, I am realizing that she is no longer that baby. The damage has been done, and I cannot fix it for her. Your reference to her as a crocodile and Hop’s reference to her as a rattlesnake was spot on – and as I peel back the layers I realize this at deeper and deeper levels. As you described it so perfectly, I can keep feeding the beast, but all I will accomplish is getting myself bitten. I am learning that my energy is better served where it will have a more positive outcome for all involved.
Please know that I am doing better than I have been in a long time. I so appreciate your concern – it comforts me.
Thank you again,
Peace and namaste to you my friend.
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Finding peace,
This bit of your post says it all really:
"I cannot fix it for her"
You did all you could (and loads more) in putting up with her, in shaping yourself to try to be what she wanted (impossible with an N, of course, as they keep moving the goal posts), and parenting her when it should have been the other way round.
The damage has been done, as you say. You owe her nothing. She would love to make you believe that you owe her forever, and society helps in that by making women feel that they should *always* have contact with their mothers, regardless of how badly they are being/were treated.
You need to put yourself first, second, third...and her LAST. She's had her go, and look at the damage she did (which, by the way, it is very clear to see by reading your posts that you are dealing with very effectively). Now it's your turn. This is not being selfish. This is survival.
You said that you are '99.9% resolute' in your decision to go NC. I think I know what you mean, and I have had NC for 13 years. I think the niggling doubts DO surface from time to time, and to expect them to disappear completely is probably unlikely. But 99.9% is a hell of a long way to safety than when you were seeing her on a regular basis, isn't it? Can you mentally replay a conversation from the past (probably ANY conversation would do), when she belittled you, attacked you, gas-lighted you, etc. Can you remember exactly how you *felt* then? Not just what words were said, but how you *felt*.THAT is what you are working so hard to protect yourself from.
I have a very useful video to remind me (works better than my memory!) - it is a video of a family therapy session (therapy which my Mum 'told me' to instigate, 'so that you'll learn how to fit in with the family better' - that's what she thought family therapy was). It was taken by the therapist, and is 2 hours long, and shows clearer than anything else could, what her tactics for taking over a situation were, how she twisted the truth, how she lied, how she did what someone else has called 'that prune face' that they seem to do when they're at their worst...everything. If I ever waver, seeing that video again convinces me that I NEVER want to go back to how things were then...and they definitely would if I tried a reconciliation, because N's don't 'forgive and forget' and try to re-build relationships like normal people would. They just do the same old behaviour again.
You are so close to achieving freedom now, please don't give up and start trying to have a relationship with this toxic person again. She will not change, but you can, because you're a normal human being.
Janet
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The Prune Face! the last time she did that to me I put my hand right up to her face and firmly said DONT! I stood up and walked away !
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Janet,
Thank you so much for that post. As I have less exposure to her, the acute pain is becoming a dull ache, and I sometimes think – well maybe I can make it work.
I completely forgot that after I had that final episode with my mother that I wrote her a letter. I poured my soul into that letter – all of the pain, fury, and frustration. It was very cathartic. I never sent it – would have been utterly futile. Without a doubt, no matter what I said, she would have taken it and twisted it out of context to mock me for it or to make me the “bad guy.” She would have pulled it out at every opportunity to slander me to everyone in her life to get more NS, and she would have tried to use it to get back into my life.
I also have a couple of nasty e-mails that she wrote.
Early after my NC decision, I used to get those letters out and read them to remind me to stay strong.
I re-read them this morning – dumped the guilt! THANK YOU.
Peace
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Ami,
In my house, it was my father that made the rules that we had to live by (it was his psychotic glasses). I tried so hard to meet those rules, but like Janet said, “impossible with an N, of course, as they keep moving the goal posts.” I was constantly on alert, trying to gage his moods so that I, hopefully, could divert the abuse that would come if I didn’t read him correctly. Everything and everyone catered to him. When he was around, I went on hold, and became whatever I needed to become so that I wouldn’t get hurt. (Lot of residual shame there – something to work on, I feel like I should have been stronger then.)
I can remember one time, he was really drunk, and he was on the floor. I was sitting on the couch – there was no one else around. He started coming towards me – crawling on all fours – I was terrified, it was as though he was stalking me. I pretended I was going to get a drink and ran for my life. I will never forget the look in his eyes – so empty and blank. There was nothing there. I saw evil. After that incident, I tried so hard never to be alone with him again.
I spent so much of my childhood terrified of him, that my mother’s toxicity went pretty much unnoticed. It wasn’t until after he died that I began to realize how toxic she really was. Her abuse was subtle. It was like a slow drip of mild acid over time. Yeah it hurts a little when it happens, but you forget. Every once in a while I would get a bucket of the strong acid from her, but for the most part it was mild drips (when compared to him). I am beginning to realize that without him there, maybe that acid wouldn’t have seemed so mild. It is a really nasty type of abuse, over time your soul is eroded and you wonder what happened. You can point to a black eye and say yeah, I was abused – but how do you point to the scars on your soul. It is real insidious – because they damage you, and then blame it on you for being damaged.
I am rambling here, but my mother’s abuse was so much milder than my father’s that I think of her as an emotional infant – mentally ill. Maybe she is evil.
I realized a long time ago that there was something not right in my father. In some ways, at that time, I was able to shift my world view away from his psychotic glasses. I am just beginning to realize the extent of how much of my world view was determined by my mother’s psychotic glasses. You said it so well:
“The perspective with which I saw the world was distorted. It was like a 'fun house" mirror.”
I didn’t realize until last year how very true this was for her as well. For me, in a lot of ways, it was my perspective of myself as well as my world view. I have/had no self confidence, anxiety, PTSD, I thought I was a terrible person, difficult, over-sensitive, nasty, unlikable, etc.,
For me, by calling them mentally ill or evil, it is a path toward understanding that they are the ones with the problem not us. It is a means of getting rid of the glasses and starting to rebuild myself. There is a reason that they are the way they are that has nothing to do with me. I tried so hard as a child to be what they needed me to be, to make everything right, to cater to them so they would be happy, but because of their nature, nothing I did worked. I used to think it was my fault – no more. It is their fault not mine.
Your story of your mother is classic N. She reminds me so much of my father and now, of my mother. The kicking you to the floor, helping you get up, and then kicking you down again. Twisting your decision to walk away, in such a way as to make her feel like she is doing the noble thing for you – I am so sorry. You and Janet are so right. There is no fixing it.
You and Janet have reminded me of my current motto: They stole my childhood, they stole my young adult life – she is not stealing one more second of my life. The rest is mine.
OK – back on track - got derailed for a bit – Thank you both so much.
Peace
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Oh Peace,
Can I have your motto as *my* motto? I think that's a brilliant one!
'Blaming you because you're damaged' is so typically N, that bit really resonates with me.
And also where you said you believed you were 'a terrible person, difficult, over-sensitive, nasty, unlikable, etc'. What is it about that word 'difficult' that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up? Could I have heard it before, somewhere? My mother, perhaps? How many thousands of times, I wonder? No wonder we end up thinking that these are *our* perceptions. We've been well and truly brainwashed, but we only have ourselves (and the peole here) to help us re-programme our minds.
But you're completely right, we don't have to give over to them even one more second of our lives any more.
Ami,
Trying to get 'normal people' (i.e. people who haven't experienced what we have) to understand the evil is like bashing your head against a brick wall, but we still keep trying, don't we? How any mother can build up her daughter just to bring her down again is beyond me. How on earth did we cope with it?
Janet
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Thanks for that, Ami. It didn't feel like the right thing to do at the time, or for several years afterwards, or even now, sometimes. If I can see it objectively (as if I can see it happening to someone else, and I'm giving them advice about what to do) *of course* I'd tell them to run away and don't look back. But that is so HARD!!
I hate the woman, I really do, but I still feel that she's the only mother I'll ever have, so perhaps...and I waver. Weirdly, when I have nightmares about my past (yep, I still have them...anyone know how long that bit goes on for??) , it's my Nsister that appears in them much more than my Mum. I think that might be because my Mum doesn't try to make contact with me directly any more, but my sister does. And she's only 42 and going strong, whereas my mum is 70. The last time I got a 'missive' from my sister, it was a 3,500 word email rant out of the blue. Made me really freak out. Can't I *ever* get shot of these people? Grrr!
As to whether they're the same to other people as they are to you, from what I've read, no, they are not. They can sniff out a creative, sensitive, emotional and vulnerable person at a hundred paces. Like their own child, for instance. But a mature, confident adult would be someone they'd be afraid to try the same tactics with. They might be mad, but they're not daft!
Isn't it strange how, in so many posts on this board, people are always saying versions of 'Oh, and I thought it was only ME that felt like that/saw it like that' , etc. Validation from this site has done wonders for my confidence in my decisions. And it's given me some smart answers to give the next person who suggests I'm 'wicked' to have NC with my Mum!
Thanks very much to all of you.
Janet
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I don't know what hell is, Ami, but what matters most is that you build your own heaven.
It's peaceful and gentle and relaxed, and it has a special boundary door. You can look
across the threshold occasionally and see her, tracing her repeated circles in a dry field.
But for some heavenly reason, she can't come in.
You're safe, and you have your heaven within you.
When you remember, this is where you are.
love and much sorrow for what you've been through,
Hops
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Peace,
I'm really sorry it still hurts you sometimes.
But I'm so glad you decided to be Peace.
hugs
Hops
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Janet – feel free to take that motto and ditto on the “The Bomb.” With respect to it being HARD - I am the same way, when I am in the midst of the trees, I have trouble seeing the forest, and sometimes get lost. When someone else is in the trees, it is easier to see the trees and forest, and help them find a way out. I am very sorry to hear you have a toxic sister too – my brother was pretty bad to me growing up so I know how it feels - we have no relationship to speak of now. If your sister sends another 3500 word temper tantrum – can you delete it without reading it and block her e-mail? Or if you can’t block it, can you send an e-mail back that makes it look like her address is blocked? Something to the effect of – This is an automated reply – please do not respond. Please be advised that this account will not accept e-mails from this address. You will only receive this notice once – all subsequent e-mails will be automatically deleted and will not reach the account owner’s in-box.
Ami – I was the same way. I decided to go NC. At the time, I hadn’t searched for any information on the Internet. I was at the point of sheer frustration and pain and decided that I had had enough. I thought – I give up, I am tired of trying, I may be a difficult and horrid child, but this won't change whether I stay or go – so I choose to go. Then I searched and found so much information and my life changed overnight – I am not alone, they have a disorder....This site is such a wonderful place. Child abuse and domestic abuse, unless extreme, is largely hidden. Places like this expose it to the light. I am hoping that because of sites like these, and if we tell our stories, maybe awareness will increase and more will be done to stop it.
Do they do it to others? My mother – no. My mom would get that “sugary sweet oh-so-fake tone of voice” with me when others were around – or she would cloak the nastiness in the guise of a compliment, a compliment designed to make her look good. My father – definitely no, he had to be the charismatic one, the center of attention, the life of the party. My friends used to tell me how lucky I was to have him for a father (gag). This is part of the problem – no one would believe what went on behind closed doors. Their masks would slip now and again, but they were masters at covering it up.
CB – you said: Finally she became terminally ill, and I thought it would be impetus for her to change her way of relating to me. It wasnt. …..On her deathbed, she was exactly the same as she had been all of her life.
I do understand this, completely. My father had a long battle with cancer. I thought maybe he would see the light and come around. The last couple of weeks were horrendous. At one point he was confined to a bed in ICU. The temper tantrums were unbelievable. His face would turn purple with rage, and he would hiss and scream like an animal. He grabbed the bed rails and shook the bed so hard it moved across the floor – these were very heavy beds. He had a tube into his digestive tract to help drain fluids – he ripped it out. He would throw food or drinks at us, scream that he should have killed us as pups, thrown us out on the street, we were miserable human beings…. I didn’t dare go within reach of him. He was so awful to the female nurses that they finally only assigned male nurses to him. I went to visit him one day, and he spent 6 hours talking nonstop about what an awful wife my mother had been, and that all the mistakes he made were her fault. He would talk about my siblings and how stupid and immature they were. He told me he was God. This went on for 2 weeks. It is hard to describe how horrific it was, it was just awful. I think that he just couldn't handle the fact that he was not in control of what was happening to him. The mask he presented to the world had been ripped away and his true nature was exposed – very scary and very, very sad.
CB – I grieved more than just her physical death. I don't know if you can imagine this, but it's been eight years and her stuff feels so far away. I don't know if I could have ever managed this degree of detachment while she was alive. But her death made me feel truly free.
I too grieved more than his physical death (and as awful as he was he was still my father). That last couple of weeks it was so apparent, despite those awful behaviors, he was a tortured soul. After he died, I grieved for him that he never had a truly happy life, he never had a chance to heal and grow in himself, and I grieved for me that I never had a real father. And yes, as time goes by, his stuff does feel further away. While he was alive (and please don’t be offended – he was a very abusive man), I was hoping a Mack truck would hit him; however, now that he is dead and no longer devising new ways to torture me, my hope for him is that he has found peace because he certainly never had it in this life.
The only catch to all of this – I finally felt free and let my guard down. Big mistake - after I let my guard down, his “mini-me” (my mother) struck.
CB – The difference for your kids is that they have you. I see such courage, strength, perseverance, and wisdom in your posts. I see this by what you write – they live with you and know this at a far better level than I do. They are very lucky. They may struggle with their father, struggle through the understanding that he has a problem that can’t be fixed, but they have you to balance the equation, and that is a wonderful thing. Please don’t think for one minute that you don’t count – nothing will count more in their lives.
((((((((((((((((((Ami, Janet, Hops, CB)))))))))))))))))))))
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CB,
I echo what Peace said - your kids have you, and you can explain about their Dad. Even now, my Dad doesn't understand that his wife for 37 years (till they got divorced the year I started NC) made my life hell with her N behaviour, as my Mum made absolutely sure that when she was at her worst, it was just her and me - no witnesses. He thinks we just 'fell out' over something that I won't discuss with him, and that I don't want to see her 'at the moment' (i.e 13 years, so far). It just goes over his head, or he's in denial - I don't know. But I have little time left with him, I think, and I don't want to spend it talking about her.
How old are your kids? Would it be difficult to let them read this board, as you've put postings on here, too? Could you cut and paste bits out, and talk it over with them? I would have given anything to have had an explanation when I was in my late teens/ early twenties, when my NMum's behaviour was at its worst. No internet then (I'm 44).
What you and Peace said about when parents die, is what I expect to happen with my mother - I'll grieve the fact that I never had a mother, and that she never had peace in her life, but *her* as a person, no, I don't hink I'll be able to mourn her like 'normal' daughters would. I certainly won't be going to the funeral, or even sending flowers, nothing. I'll look forward to the fading of the hurtful memories, that's all. At least when she's dead she can't add to the list of what she's done so far. I do worry that my Nsister will take up the baton, though.
Peace,
That's a good idea about the emails if I get any more form my Nsister. The 3,500 word email I got recently was a shock, as she sent it via her husband's account, so I didn't recognise it as being from her. She's posted me stuff by snail mail before, but never emailed, so I was taken by surprise. It was a mistake to have read it, because it screwed me up for weeks, but I resisted the temptation to reply to it and put her right 'point by point', as I know now that that doesn't work with Ns, they'll just come back with a load more stuff. Still, her email made me look online for info about NPD, and I found out so much in a really short space of time. So incredibly helpful, if distressing.
Ami,
I should think that when your mother, and my mother, are both in hell, at least they'll have something to talk about - us! And much good may it do them.
Janet
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Ami,
Thanks for the 'funny award' (I wonder what the trophy for THAT would look like...? Don't even think about it!)
I'm sure that if you can reframe how you see the events that have shaped your life, it would help an awful lot.
I used to think like you seem to at the moment - that what's happened is so bad, that I'm 'damaged' forever. But the 'story' in our heads can be changed to be something different. It takes a lot of work, but you can learn to tell yourself a different story, one that is more positive. You don't have to ignore or deny the terrible stuff, it's not llike being in denial, but it sort of says ' this DID happen, I am stronger now because I survived it, I can learn from it and never get in that situation again, I can care for myself', etc,etc.
Books by Louise Hay are good for this kind of 're-learning'. She's very hot on affirmations, and acknowledging your past.
As to having a life-changing experience that changes you - I can relate to that one. I had a burst appendix 18 months ago, and what with the shock of the actual illness, the shock of being in hospital (when talking about it afterwards, I often 'inadvertantly' referred to it as 'when I was in prison'), and facing up to the realisation afterwards that I nearly died, has changed me profoundly. Some things don't worry me at all now, but other things I feel I want to get sorted, so I can get on with my life.
I like the phrase 'fur baby'. Never heard pets described like that before. I used to have two cats, and they were definitely like children to me (I haven't got children). When each of them died (7 years apart), I was distraught. They are so *honest* in their love, aren't they?
Janet
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mrow?
prrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
(ankle winding)
Janet's new kitty calling...
:wink:
Hops
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Hops, DON'T!!
I've got a friend who lives miles from me now, and every time she sends me a card, it's got a C-A-T on it!! And she keeps asking me if I like ginger ones best, or tabby ones...! One day I'll give in, and get another one...
Ami,
You asked about my 'near death' experience - not sure how close I really came, but here goes (this is long - be warned!):
I woke up on a Wednesday morning, and while my husband went downstairs to make some tea, I suddenly got an excruciating pain in my stomach. I just knew it was appendicitis, as I’d never felt a pain that sharp before. He heard me screaming, and came back upstairs. I just said ‘Do something!’, so he called an ambulance. It took about 10 minutes for the ambulance to arrive, but 45 minutes to get to the nearest hospital (we live in the country). When we got there, I was put on a trolley in the corridor, head to toe with other people (they’d run out of cubicles – this is the National Health Service, and it’s falling apart!), and left for FIVE HOURS! They said they couldn’t give me any painkillers, or water even, until a doctor had seen me. My husband kept asking when I’d be seen, but it was obvious there were other people who needed seeing to before me – the man next to me was in agony, and on his own, too, and I felt so sorry for him. At least I had my husband with me.
Eventually I got seen, and surprise surprise, they thought I had appendicitis! By now my stomach was quite swollen, so they put a drip in ‘so I wouldn’t get dehydrated’, and moved me by ambulance to another site, where I was put on the Assessment Ward. Another wait of five hours. We kept pointing out to any nurse that passed by, that the drip wasn’t working, and that my blood was backing up the tube, rather than the fluid going into me, but they just flicked the tube and said ‘that’ll be OK’.
The pain got so bad that by 7pm they gave me morphine. Then I had an interview with the surgeon. Not the best way round, really, was it?! I was talking rubbish, he seemed obsessed with the fact that he thought there might be a tiny chance I was pregnant (as I told him, my husband had a vasectomy 25 years ago, so that’s hardly likely!). When I went to have an Xray, I couldn’t remember my name, to sign the consent form. They said to just put an X, but I couldn’t remember what that was, so they had to hold their hand over mine to help me do it. What a state I was in!
I got onto a proper ward by 9pm. My husband stayed with me till 11.30pm. when he was chucked out, and told to go home, and that they’d operate during the night. He’d been really calm and so supportive all day, and had had nothing to eat (he gets IBS, so that’s not sensible for him), and he only told me afterwards that when he got out to the car park he’d left the lights on on the car and the battery was flat. He had to call out the AA to get the car going, and didn’t get home till 3am.
I went in to the operating theatre at midnight, and remember feeling really calm – most of the staff were great (except one nurse who was a bitch, and I hope she rots in hell). As I arrived there for the pre-med, the anaesthetist took one look at the drip in my arm and said ‘who on earth did that?’ When I said ‘Some nurse on their first day in Casualty’ she turned away and said to someone else 'That’s really dangerous.’
The next thing I remember is coming round, about 4am, back in the ward, and feeling a weird happy feeling. I started laughing (don’t know if that was the drugs!). I felt hot, but SO relieved. One of the male staff who was really nice got me a soluble Paracetamol painkiller, as he remembered that I can’t swallow tablets (leftover feeling from having anorexia, I think – I refuse to swallow stuff that I’m TOLD to).
In the morning, when the consultants did their rounds, the surgeon who’d operated on me went past and did a double take and said 'My God, you’re all pink! You were grey last night. We were so worried about you.’
It turns out (I didn’t realise this until I found the operation consent form later) that I’d signed to say I understood that there was only a 40% chance of me surviving the operation. But, as my husband said later, if I hadn’t had it, there was a 100% chance of me dying. Apparently, the whole of my abdominal cavity had been full of pus by the time they operated. Yeuch!!
Anyway, I hated being on the post-op ward (full of daft women who talked inane rubbish, the TV blaring out from 5.30 am till 11.30 at night) mixed sex toilets and showers, awful, inedible food…
I was so determined to get out, that I watched what you had to do so that I scored enough ‘points’: get out of bed on my own and sit in a chair, not on the bed, ‘exercise’ by walking up and down the corridor with my drip-stand (within hours of the operation), go to the toilet unaided, drink their disgusting over-chlorinated water, don’t go to sleep during the day, eat their yucky food…
By the second day, I managed to convince the consultant that I could go home (so, my mother was right… I AM a determined little cow!). They phoned my husband to tell him (he cried then, he told me later – isn’t that sweet?). I asked him to bring ‘smart’ clothes, as I wanted to go out dressed properly, so after getting dressed behind the cubicle curtains, when I came out the woman in the bed opposite said ‘My God, you look like a different person!’ I really felt like one, too. When I got home, I was in bed for a fortnight. My husband was brilliant – he made lovely food for me, read to me when I was too weak to even hold a book, worked out that he could wash my hair for me without me getting out of bed if I lay sideways with my head over the edge of the bed…
I had a really bad reaction to the antibiotics that I was sent home with, and that was almost worse than the appendicitis. The side effects meant that my breathing was erratic and laboured, I had hallucinations, and the nightmares were so scary I tried to stay awake rather than experience them every time I went to sleep (violent bombs going off in crowded areas like markets, with spirals of metal shot out in all directions, cutting people to bits, all with a ‘soundtrack’ of screaming. The worst nightmares I’ve ever had). He stayed with me through all that, appearing calm whenever he was with me. He kept my business, as well as his own, running smoothly while all this was going on (we each run mail order businesses from home).
Gradually I got stronger, until after a month I could stand upright for long enough to go shopping to the supermarket with him. Wow! The outside world! Around this time, I was ‘allowed’ to have baths again (once the dressing had come off). The first time I sat in the bath and saw the scar, it just hit me what had happened, and I had a panic attack. That wore off over the next couple of months.
But I had a lot of time to think, while I was in bed for those weeks. Why hadn’t I died? What was the point? I remember thinking that I wasn’t ready to die yet, that I planned to do so much, sooo…perhaps it was a kick up the backside to get me to get on with it, and stop wasting time…
In the April of 2006, we were invited to the wedding of my husband’s nephew. It was a big wedding, very posh, at an Anglican church in Birmingham. Because of contacts in the family (the groom’s mother is on the General Synod of the Church of England), the service was taken by the Bishop of York, John Sentamu. I had never heard of him, then. I didn’t believe in God, and I’d expected the day to be a bit dull, to be honest. And I always cry at weddings, too.
Anyway, after the first hymn (where I’d cried – the singing always gets to me), I was looking at the decorations around the walls, when I very clearly heard a voice, female, but definitely NOT mine, say ‘How many times do you have to get to this point, before you do something about it?’
It was then that I knew I had to start going to church, and sort out what I believe in. I spent the rest of 2006 searching the internet for spiritual paths that allow for a feminine face of God, and that’s why I chose the Unitarians, and we’ve been going since February this year.
All this has had a profound effect on me, as you can imagine. Me and my husband were close before all this, but we’re even closer, now.
I still don’t know quite what to make of the ‘voice in the church’, though. What do you think?
Janet
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Janet.
Oh I am so glad you survived to sit in the sacred space and sing...
Hops