Below is a post I originally wrote back on July 21, 2013, just a few months after my father passed.It was on one blog and I’d left it in “Draft.” When I found it again, I’d posted it in another blog on February 16, 2017. Both blogs abandoned.
Today, July 29, 2017 I came across it again and felt it belonged here.
It’s interesting to read it now after so much time, because I have experienced a sort of slight dissociative amnesia, in between the dates at different times, concerning different things pertaining to my family.
Back in the early part of having severed ties, I was newly waking up to the abuse from my family…more or less.
I was able to see it more clearly I guess you could say. I began to know without doubt that they were causing me loads of emotional and mental harm. Through the years, I knew something was wrong, but I had a lot of self doubt, which I know now came from much gas lighting.
But now, years later, I read this (and many other things I wrote back in 2013) and I can see the self-awareness and the fact that I’d awakened to their bullshit. But now, with so much time passed, there are things I read here and had forgotten that that was how it went down.
Sometimes I can’t even articulate as well now as I did then as to why I don’t speak to my family. I just say that they abused me in the last months of contact with them. But it’s so much more and deeper than that.
Makes me really glad I wrote during those early days. So without further ado…
Another email arrived, even after I said I needed time and space away from the family. My mother still insisted on asking something of me before she went to France.
When I sent the email in response to a vague message she left on my voice mail, I made it clear I was not available.
At least I thought I did.
But she insisted on asking anyway, to see if I’d be finished “taking my space” by the time she wanted me to house and cat-sit while she traveled.
I told her no, and pretty much left it at that. It was weird for me not to spin into an explanation to try to control her feelings for me.
I grew up explaining myself, pleading my own cases, even when it seemed both senseless and common sense. The outcome for me was the same. I worried about what she thought and how she’d feel.
I found I was asking myself a lot, “What the fuck? Why can’t she understand without an explanation?”
Now I ask, “Why do I feel the need to explain?”
Normally, I would’ve felt compelled to tell her why. But not this time.
I had attempted too many times to discuss things that needed to be cleared up and resolved. I tried more times than I can count, to lead the big elephants out of the room. But she made it clear one day, she’d had enough and was no longer open to discussions initiated in this vein.
I don’t think* my mom has enough awareness to know why I want the time. And in my mind, it’s permanent…this ‘No Contact’ status, because I don’t think she’ll ever realize the real problem, because the problem is me…according to her.
It started with me, she believes. Her words to me over the phone after I’d answered a question she’d asked about the tension among my siblings and me.
Later after that conversation as well as others, she engaged in and enabled some of the manipulation and triangulation among my sister, herself and me. And the fucked up thing is, that at the time I viewed it as her being helpful, a mediator for us. But when I ‘woke up’ I saw it for what it was. She had leaned too much to the side of my sister, for her actions to be that of a mediator.
It’s gone on too long and the roles are so ingrained.
Things are more clear now concerning my toxic family dynamic and it’s dysfunction. And I believe, to remove myself from all of it, is the healthiest option in all aspects of the word ‘health.’
There is so much to work through. It hurts, the way things have come about, and the very thought of learning that love doesn’t exist in my family of origin is very painful.
But most important at the moment, is to keep myself clear of giving them or anyone the opportunity to spew their toxic sludge all over me with blame, finger pointing and taking no accountability.
I have quit the job of family scapegoat.
*I know my mother didn’t and doesn’t have enough awareness now. Between the date originally written and now, she has proven it to me more than once.