Yesterday I had my therapy session and rather than talking about the fact that T didn’t message me back, we spent 50 minutes talking about my mother…AGAIN!! Honestly, it’s become a bit of a constant thing and the more I talk about her, the more angry and confused I become. And while he would never come out and say it directly, I’m starting to believe that T really doesn’t like her at all. And I’m not sure why, but I feel kind of bad about it.
What can I say about my mother without sounding like a broken record? I don’t feel like she really loves me. I don’t feel like she really wanted me. I feel like I am an inconvenience to her, that I can’t do anything that she would approve of and that I am not equal. I feel…less than; unworthy; defective.
T and I discussed different ways I could try to communicate with her from coming right out and telling her all the awful reasons I’m in therapy to writing her a letter. I don’t really know what to do at the moment so I’m still thinking of my options. T wants to know what’s the worse things that could happen–she could leave or cut me out of her life? He wanted to know exactly what she could do now that I’m an adult that would really matter to me.
What do I say? Is it wrong to feel like if she left me it would feel devastating? I don’t know if I should feel that way, but I do. Even though she’s a mean, hurtful mother, it still matters to me what happens to her. There is a part of me that still feels like I need her around. And there’s something about that which disgusts me. What do I owe her really? Other than giving birth to me, has she really done anything much to make my life better or easier?
I don’t know why mothers–even toxic ones–remain so important to us. What are we looking at them to provide to us even as we become adults? Is it the hope that one day we’ll actually feel like we matter? That they’ll love us for just being us? When does it stop mattering? When they die? Does everything get better once they’re gone? Or does the emptiness and longing just keep growing?
My mother is a broken woman. Nobody has to tell me that. I know it. Deep down in my soul, I feel it. She was born from a broken woman and married an extremely broken man. She gave birth to someone who is trying their damnedest to put the shattered brokenness of themselves back together.
It would be nice to have a mother who could be the glue that helps the pieces stick. Or even to have a father be a substitute. But I’m starting to learn that it just isn’t going to happen.
And it hurts.
A lot.
I’m not quite sure what to do with all of the hurt. I’m still looking for the glue. The only thing I know is that she can’t help me.
It Feels Complicated 
You don’t sound like a broken record. Sometimes different views or parts are expressed or seen with each discussion. I like to think of it like the way they say you never return to the same river twice; it always flows ever so slightly different to the last time you were there. Maybe it’s deeper; maybe it’s more fast and furious, maybe there’s more fish in it, and sticks and leaves are moved along and can change volume-wise.
It’s much the same when revisiting things in therapy, and the mother wound is so enormous, it’s hardly surprising that you revisit it.
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thanks LS. It’s hard to see the sticks and leaves when you feel like you’re drowning in the river. Friday we didn’t talk much about her and it helped a bit, although there’s still much to wade through when it comes to her….xx
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These feelings are so valid and need the attention you are giving them. As frustrating as it feels to revisit these wounds, tending to them as needed is an incredibly healing gift to yourself.
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Thanks Sara. Slowly but surely we’re making our way through them.
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this is so hard. I had one of my rare T appointments yesterday and this came up too.. I really want to validate your effort, you are trying so hard and so valiantly to really deal with your mother. I haven’t been that brave — I am just trying to really process the grief of not having a mother figure even though my mother is alive and well and present in my life. I’ve learned the hard way that being vulnerable with her in any way is not safe. there will not be repair for us, but I am focusing on ways that I can still heal. I’m focusing a lot around making various sorts of boundaries, not feeling guilty about it, allowing myself to un-mesh and not care take.
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oh, I’m glad you could change your session. I hope your hand is doing okay. I think that’s really important to try to focus on ways you can make solid boundaries. I don’t feel like we have boundaries at all. It’s so difficult. I wish it was just my father that I had issues with because he’s dead and I don’t have to deal with him at all. It’s hard when they’re alive and present…but not in a good way.
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Oh, thanks! My hand is loads better (and when she got the message, she did email right away 😂). I hear you on the making boundaries and dealing with the very present parents who enmesh… it’s so, so hard.
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“I’m starting to believe that T really doesn’t like her at all. And I’m not sure why, but I feel kind of bad about it…I don’t feel like she really loves me.” I think maybe T doesn’t like her *because* she’s the kind of mom who probably doesn’t genuinely love you? Have you considered that statement alone is enough reason to dislike her? You don’t have to feel bad about it. She earned that dislike all on her own. You didn’t *make* her say those things…
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thanks love. I guess you’re right. It’s so hard to see these things when they’re present and in your life still. I sometimes wonder if I was born feeling guilty because it’s the one thing I do feel ALL THE TIME. It’s true I didn’t make her say those things–you’re right–I need to keep saying that to myself, that she did this, not me and it’s okay to feel however I feel about it. It’s hard, but a work in progress I suppose.
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“Even though she’s a mean, hurtful mother, it still matters to me what happens to her. There is a part of me that still feels like I need her around. And there’s something about that which disgusts me. What do I owe her really? Other than giving birth to me, has she really done anything much to make my life better or easier?”
**NODS NODS NODS** I still care about my mother even though I don’t need her (she “needs” me). And a part of me misses her, wants her around…and that disgusts me, and yet… I feel I owe my Mum.
My T doesn’t really like my parents either.
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I don’t understand that part of things at all. If they caused so much hurt to us, why would we ever want them around?? It’s something that baffles me about me own feelings all the time.
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Yeah, i know it’s probably because we’re wired to attach to them when we’re young, but it’s frustrating being an adult, being in therapy facing the deep hurts they’ve inflicted, and still kind of missing them.
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