Wednesday, October 21, 2020
Some of the effects of what my mother did still linger in spite of years of various therapies. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve come a looooong way. It recently occurred to me that in addition to the dysfunctional behaviors I’ve been working on there are now new ones cropping up, which is so frustrating. Kinda hoped I’d be that perfect and humble lady I know I can be by now. (Ahem.) I was bemoaning this realization to my wise therapist the other day. She helped me understand that as I keep pushing further out of my comfort zone old unhealthy reactions that have been buried in the subconscious are emerging (yay). I’m (sort of) glad to be made aware of these things because that way they can be dealt with and healed, even if it is hard on the ego to realize I’m not yet perfect :).
Sometimes just trying to hold a conversation can be an ordeal. I’ve gotten pretty good at talking with people I’ve just met and whose opinions I’m not all that vested with, but that can change drastically if I start to care about what the other person thinks. My brain has been known to shut down in the middle of a conversation and I’ll either start talking in incomplete sentences where even I don’t know what the heaven I’m saying, or just go mute and stare at the other person, unable to respond at all. There’s also ignoring and/or walking away from someone I really do want to talk to because I don’t believe anything I say matters, am too concerned with angering them or just don’t know how to react.
Being frequently punished as a child for doing the right thing, my psyche can still perceive making decisions or actions that involve others as a threat. Spontaneity is virtually impossible and it can take a ridiculous length of time to make even a simple or obvious choice. Once a decision is finally made and acted upon I start to doubt my own intention and then a shame spiral begins where I might feel obligated to ‘fix’ what I just did even if it was the best option. Since that may not ‘feel’ right either I might try to redo that, and the spiral continues. It’s exhausting to spend so much time and mental energy regretting, overthinking and perhaps redoing the same thing over and over. I can only imagine how this affects the other person (or people) this happens to. I thank God for the friends I now have who are so patient as I am learning to change these behaviors.
One of the most painful offshoots of how I was treated by my mother was played out with her right up until she died a couple of years ago and it has infected all other relationships too. After I’d been in therapy for a while and became more conscious of the hell childhood really was I started pulling away from family as a whole but maintained a guarded relationship with one sister and my mom. I always told mom I loved her and she would frequently say she loved me. I desperately wanted to believe her and until I became stronger in my sense of self I’d do whatever it took to hear those words. After being in recovery for a while, though, I’d feel anger and reject them internally. I kept trying to convince myself I was being too hard on her, that she could have had an epiphany of some sort and really did love me now.
God led me to the truth in His own way, and as painful as it was, the truth has set me free to heal.
I had been struggling with trying to forgive my mother for a long time. Carrying all that anger was debilitating and it was affecting all the other areas of life too. We had never discussed the abuse and she’d never offered an apology. I knew bringing up the subject would probably tick her off so even though I desperately wanted some sort of resolution I was still too afraid to mention it.
My mother remained mentally competent right up until the end of her life. One of the few ways I’d learned to connect with her when we were alone was to pray a rosary with her since she loved doing that so much. One day while we were praying it felt imperative to tell her she was forgiven. Since I was still too intimidated, when we finished I just said “You’re forgiven”. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I meant those words completely, but felt it had to start somewhere. I figured by not saying exactly why, if she needed to continue to deny the abuse to herself then she could take it as a reassurance that God had forgiven her for anything else she may have felt regret about.
She immediately became defensive and asked “for what?”, as if there was nothing she would need to be forgiven for. When I couldn’t immediately respond she acted increasingly agitated and angry. I decided it was time to escape, so as our usual good-bye I kissed her and told her I loved her, twice and she refused to say it back. I finally fully realized and accepted the truth. She only ‘loved’ me as long as I kept my mouth shut, kept our dirty little secrets completely hidden. Even though I had always known it on one level or another, it still hurt like hell.
At the following visit we acted like nothing was wrong. We were alone and said another rosary and I’m not sure why, but at the end I reiterated she was forgiven. She acted even more offended than the first time and once again refused to acknowledge anything. She turned her face away when I kissed her and would not respond when I told her I loved her. Ouch. And That’s what ‘love’ has always meant to me.
The next time I saw her was the last time I’d see her alive. There were other people in the room. When I left she allowed me to kiss her and she actually said she loved me. I so dearly wanted to believe, but it still felt hollow. Did she say it because there were witnesses?
I still haven’t figured out how to cry for her passing, there may have been enough tears shed while she was alive. I am grateful to have been nudged by God to tell her she was forgiven. It put me in charge of the process instead of passively waiting for an apology that never came.
Since I never knew what real love was I labeled how I felt about Great Guy and other men I’ve been attracted to in the past as a ‘crush’. (He’ll be mentioned frequently because whether he wanted to be or not, he’s one of my greatest life teachers.) A couple of days ago I felt the urge to look up what ‘crush’ meant in a romantic sense. The definition mentioned having crushing/crushed feelings about someone, usually unrequited. To expand on that, this is what love in ALL it’s varieties has meant to me. While I knew it was possible for others, and I’ve worked hard at doing what I can to change, at heart I never believed that for me love could be anything other than unreciprocated, crushing of spirit, too painful to withstand. As I read the definition though, that beautiful, gentle voice of Spirit whispered into my heart, “But love doesn’t have to be that way. Real love does not crush”. And in that moment a chain began breaking and my heart started it’s liberating journey away from the bondage of false love. At long last I’m beginning to understand what real love can be, even for me, so now I know I am becoming capable of both giving and receiving it. Thank You, God.
Thank you Dr. Cindy B., “wise therapist”, for helping me find my way back to wholeness. I am getting there! God bless you.
I wrote this poem years ago. It was written about God of course, but after this revelation about what love really is I’ve come to the conclusion it could also refer to love.
S-l-o-w Revelation
I pray to my God, my Savior, my angels,
to help me understand, believe and live.
I keep praying for Holy Spirit to descent upon me; tongues of fire, fill my soul.
Possibly I don’t see it because I keep waiting for a clap of thunder, a bolt of lightening
But maybe it’s seeping in, around the edges, bit by bit, day by day.
Someday it’ll be absorbed deep enough into my soul to touch my heart,
And then I’ll know without a doubt,
You have been with me all along .
c. Pearl E. M.
