Re: Things that kept me from moving on

[Guest guest]

Oh my gosh, it's like you stepped inside my mind, Karla. You should not feel

ashamed whatsoever, not even a little, about admitting these things. All of this

has run through my mind before, and I finally figured that I was not making any

progress with her, and gave up.

She still has her claws in me though.

Since going NC almost two months ago, she calls me, and I won't answer. I can't

bear the thought of hearing her voice, but curiosity about what she could

possibly ever want to say to me has me wanting to pick up. I'm hoping that if I

ever do answer her call, that she would be apologetic, realize that accusing and

degrading and being evil was wrong, and say that she would never be that way

again. But I know that it will be a string of antagonistic BS about me and how I

live my life. She will never change, so I just let the phone ring.

I think it's the hope that keeps me from moving on. Hope that she will come to

realize the error of her wicked ways, so we can have somewhat of a normal

relationship. Hope that the pendulum will stop swinging back and forth and rest

in the middle where the " rational " mothers are. I have hope too that one day

that nada could look at me without thinking that I'm a despicable, pathetic

excuse for anything and tell me that I'm a good mother, a good daughter, and a

good person.

I've made a lot of progress since joining this group. I still feel no guilt or

sympathy or love for her, but I need closure, a final " Screw you MOM, " before I

can completely move on with my life.

That may come with the next phone call from her. We'll see.

>

> I'm ashamed to admit some of these. I've been trying to get to the next stage

of healing, which means letting go of a lot of anger and hatred. I needed to

list them in the presence of understanding friends:

>

> I am scared of her. She always seemed so big and powerful. She has no sense

of right or wrong, and seems to win every fight. I shut down and take it when

she splits me. At least, I used to. I was always terrified by her because she

could be so cruel, crafty, and cold. And she would not let up no matter what.

Period. That made her scary. If I stayed angry, I thought I could win in a

fight.

>

> I wanted a mom. I think I knew, intuitively, my anger and hatred towards her

was nothing but a " safe " connection to her. The more I let go of that hate

connection, the more there really really really was nothing else to tie us

together. No more.

>

> I wanted to finally be seen, heard, and understood. It was like I held a door

open to her in case she could eventually come around. And then, to protect

myself from her, I had to guard that " opening " with my anger and constant

disgust. No more.

>

> I wanted vengence. It was never right that she got to hurt, abuse, belittle,

humiliate, grind down, and destroy me all she wanted, and I got to hold the

consequences of her hatred. It never bothered her at all--it never even

registered to her that she was doing anything harmful. Anger helped me to feel

like she was getting justice, somehow. No more. I just can't keep it up any

more.

>

> I wanted her to be okay and somewhat sane. The logic goes like this: If

somebody gets mad at a person they love, that person knows to evaluate their

behavior and either change it or explain it or disregard it or SOMETHING.

Somehow, a sane person deals with it if a loved one is very mad at them. She

can't. By getting angry and expecting her to respond as sane, I was expecting

her to be more than she is. She's BP. She can't deal. She can only lash out.

It was my own way of pretending like she is normal--get mad and hope she acts

like she's sane by responding as a human. No more.

>

> I just wanted her to be like me. I kept thinking down deep (and this is

embarrassing to admit), that she would eventually see me--really SEE me--and

understand there is a better way to live. I think I always believed my

pseudo-daughter (you know how that goes w/ BP moms) would always look up to her

pseudo-mommy (hi, me) and realize she could change her ways and be good. Like

me. I think I always held on to the magical thinking that she would grow up

some day and be more like me. No more.

>

> Finally, I was grieving. And I'm proud of myself for having enough courage to

lay her to rest in my life by allowing this grief process. Anger is a grief

stage. And I'm thankful for it.

>

> Now, its time to move on.

>

> Any other ideas out there as to what keeps us stuck?

>

> THANKS!

>

> Blessings,

> Karla

>

[Guest guest]

For myself-and speaking only for myself - I was what kept me stuck (see

my  " what I've learned " post).  I had to finally get sick of the person I was

becoming with my anger and hurt and choose to move on.  It was hard because, in

a sense, my anger was a defense, holding me up against the flood of hurt and

emotion, protecting me.  I was so unbelievably scared when I started choosing

to forgive Mom and accept who she was-as she was-instead of analyzing and

protecting and running and fighting...and sometimes I did (and do) get hurt,

but my bottom line was that I chose to forgive because I liked me better that

way.  (I'm not so worn out now, by the way).  Mom has never given up and never

let go and she still hits my heart pretty hard sometimes, but I don't forgive

and love her because of who she is.  I do it because of who I am...and I like

that.  -Leslye

Subject: Things that kept me from moving on

To: WTOAdultChildren1

Date: Sunday, July 11, 2010, 12:54 AM

 

I'm ashamed to admit some of these. I've been trying to get to the next stage of

healing, which means letting go of a lot of anger and hatred. I needed to list

them in the presence of understanding friends:

I am scared of her. She always seemed so big and powerful. She has no sense of

right or wrong, and seems to win every fight. I shut down and take it when she

splits me. At least, I used to. I was always terrified by her because she could

be so cruel, crafty, and cold. And she would not let up no matter what. Period.

That made her scary. If I stayed angry, I thought I could win in a fight.

I wanted a mom. I think I knew, intuitively, my anger and hatred towards her was

nothing but a " safe " connection to her. The more I let go of that hate

connection, the more there really really really was nothing else to tie us

together. No more.

I wanted to finally be seen, heard, and understood. It was like I held a door

open to her in case she could eventually come around. And then, to protect

myself from her, I had to guard that " opening " with my anger and constant

disgust. No more.

I wanted vengence. It was never right that she got to hurt, abuse, belittle,

humiliate, grind down, and destroy me all she wanted, and I got to hold the

consequences of her hatred. It never bothered her at all--it never even

registered to her that she was doing anything harmful. Anger helped me to feel

like she was getting justice, somehow. No more. I just can't keep it up any

more.

I wanted her to be okay and somewhat sane. The logic goes like this: If somebody

gets mad at a person they love, that person knows to evaluate their behavior and

either change it or explain it or disregard it or SOMETHING. Somehow, a sane

person deals with it if a loved one is very mad at them. She can't. By getting

angry and expecting her to respond as sane, I was expecting her to be more than

she is. She's BP. She can't deal. She can only lash out. It was my own way of

pretending like she is normal--get mad and hope she acts like she's sane by

responding as a human. No more.

I just wanted her to be like me. I kept thinking down deep (and this is

embarrassing to admit), that she would eventually see me--really SEE me--and

understand there is a better way to live. I think I always believed my

pseudo-daughter (you know how that goes w/ BP moms) would always look up to her

pseudo-mommy (hi, me) and realize she could change her ways and be good. Like

me. I think I always held on to the magical thinking that she would grow up some

day and be more like me. No more.

Finally, I was grieving. And I'm proud of myself for having enough courage to

lay her to rest in my life by allowing this grief process. Anger is a grief

stage. And I'm thankful for it.

Now, its time to move on.

Any other ideas out there as to what keeps us stuck?

THANKS!

Blessings,

Karla

[Guest guest]

Karla,

This is so good; honestly, I think you perfectly sum up all of our issues with

#2. We want a mom.

Good question, what keeps us stuck; I think you covered all of my reasons,

pretty well, especially " I wanted to finally be seen, heard, and understood. "

I still want to be understood by her and validated.

I want her to understand why I'm pulling away from her without hurting her.

I think it's less guilt-inducing to pull away from a Witch than from a Waif. My

mother's a waif, a poor little soul, hunched over, doggie eyes -- the guilt is

overwhelming.

I think I have to accept that I will need to pull away whether or not she

understands. I don't want to hurt her, but I think she's determined to be hurt,

regardless of my motives.

Thanks for sharing.

>

> I'm ashamed to admit some of these. I've been trying to get to the next stage

of healing, which means letting go of a lot of anger and hatred. I needed to

list them in the presence of understanding friends:

>

> I am scared of her. She always seemed so big and powerful. She has no sense

of right or wrong, and seems to win every fight. I shut down and take it when

she splits me. At least, I used to. I was always terrified by her because she

could be so cruel, crafty, and cold. And she would not let up no matter what.

Period. That made her scary. If I stayed angry, I thought I could win in a

fight.

>

> I wanted a mom. I think I knew, intuitively, my anger and hatred towards her

was nothing but a " safe " connection to her. The more I let go of that hate

connection, the more there really really really was nothing else to tie us

together. No more.

>

> I wanted to finally be seen, heard, and understood. It was like I held a door

open to her in case she could eventually come around. And then, to protect

myself from her, I had to guard that " opening " with my anger and constant

disgust. No more.

>

> I wanted vengence. It was never right that she got to hurt, abuse, belittle,

humiliate, grind down, and destroy me all she wanted, and I got to hold the

consequences of her hatred. It never bothered her at all--it never even

registered to her that she was doing anything harmful. Anger helped me to feel

like she was getting justice, somehow. No more. I just can't keep it up any

more.

>

> I wanted her to be okay and somewhat sane. The logic goes like this: If

somebody gets mad at a person they love, that person knows to evaluate their

behavior and either change it or explain it or disregard it or SOMETHING.

Somehow, a sane person deals with it if a loved one is very mad at them. She

can't. By getting angry and expecting her to respond as sane, I was expecting

her to be more than she is. She's BP. She can't deal. She can only lash out.

It was my own way of pretending like she is normal--get mad and hope she acts

like she's sane by responding as a human. No more.

>

> I just wanted her to be like me. I kept thinking down deep (and this is

embarrassing to admit), that she would eventually see me--really SEE me--and

understand there is a better way to live. I think I always believed my

pseudo-daughter (you know how that goes w/ BP moms) would always look up to her

pseudo-mommy (hi, me) and realize she could change her ways and be good. Like

me. I think I always held on to the magical thinking that she would grow up

some day and be more like me. No more.

>

> Finally, I was grieving. And I'm proud of myself for having enough courage to

lay her to rest in my life by allowing this grief process. Anger is a grief

stage. And I'm thankful for it.

>

> Now, its time to move on.

>

> Any other ideas out there as to what keeps us stuck?

>

> THANKS!

>

> Blessings,

> Karla

>

[Guest guest]

These posts are really interesting. There are several stages of grief, and I

know I have passed through anger and sadness, all of that. I guess grief is

cyclical, you keep passing through the different stages to some degree.

For me, it's been grieving the family I thought I had. When I found out what

BPD is, that what was wrong in my FOO had a name, and it wasn't all my fault...

that changed my life, and I had to grieve all the parts of my life that weren't

what I thought they were. I had to grieve not having a loving nurturing mother,

and I had to cry all the pain that I had held bottled up inside. Then, I was

angry, so angry!! Angry at what had been taken from me for decades of my

life...

There have been more emotions, I can't remember all the stages of grief right

now.

I never never expected myself to feel this way, but lately (and you can see from

my other posts why) I am in the stage of ACCEPTANCE.

The truth of my life is, this is my mother, this is my FOO. No one else has the

same shared memories of when I was a baby, a child, a teenager, even an adult...

I look like her, I am related genetically, I speak like her, I see the world

from ways she trained me to see it. A mother is a big deal in the life of a

human.

I am still NC, but contemplating some contact, maybe once a year, to see other

members of my FOO, but first I need to strengthen myself A LOT MORE. I am just

contemplating right now.

But I am at a place of acceptance. This is the FOO I was born into, I didn't

choose these people, nor do I like them, nor do I agree with anything that

happened, but I do accept that this is my reality. This acceptance is releasing

me from a lot of bitterness and anger, that I know I have expressed on here as

well as in my daily life.

I don't want to be this bitter and hurt person that I have been for a long time

now. I also notice that I have attracted bitter and depressed friends into my

life, but I want more positive people around me. I want to move on from the

anger and the grief and the fear and the hurt.

I'm not sure what's next, but I do know that I can never escape this reality.

It is the story of mylife. I want to initiate contact again, but I don't want

to get hoovered back in . I guess we are all at different places in our

healing, and I don't know if my post is relevant to yours at all, but I do know

that I needed 5 years of complete NC to get to this point. I had to heal my own

mind and heart. And I couldn't do that without getting away completely.

I don't know, I'm just rambling, but I like this thread, because I can relate

right now in the sense that this is not something I will ever completely escape.

It is part of me. In fact, it is a fundamental part of me.

Hugs,

Walkingto Happiness

> >

> > I'm ashamed to admit some of these. I've been trying to get to the next

stage of healing, which means letting go of a lot of anger and hatred. I needed

to list them in the presence of understanding friends:

> >

> > I am scared of her. She always seemed so big and powerful. She has no

sense of right or wrong, and seems to win every fight. I shut down and take it

when she splits me. At least, I used to. I was always terrified by her because

she could be so cruel, crafty, and cold. And she would not let up no matter

what. Period. That made her scary. If I stayed angry, I thought I could win

in a fight.

> >

> > I wanted a mom. I think I knew, intuitively, my anger and hatred towards

her was nothing but a " safe " connection to her. The more I let go of that hate

connection, the more there really really really was nothing else to tie us

together. No more.

> >

> > I wanted to finally be seen, heard, and understood. It was like I held a

door open to her in case she could eventually come around. And then, to protect

myself from her, I had to guard that " opening " with my anger and constant

disgust. No more.

> >

> > I wanted vengence. It was never right that she got to hurt, abuse,

belittle, humiliate, grind down, and destroy me all she wanted, and I got to

hold the consequences of her hatred. It never bothered her at all--it never

even registered to her that she was doing anything harmful. Anger helped me to

feel like she was getting justice, somehow. No more. I just can't keep it up

any more.

> >

> > I wanted her to be okay and somewhat sane. The logic goes like this: If

somebody gets mad at a person they love, that person knows to evaluate their

behavior and either change it or explain it or disregard it or SOMETHING.

Somehow, a sane person deals with it if a loved one is very mad at them. She

can't. By getting angry and expecting her to respond as sane, I was expecting

her to be more than she is. She's BP. She can't deal. She can only lash out.

It was my own way of pretending like she is normal--get mad and hope she acts

like she's sane by responding as a human. No more.

> >

> > I just wanted her to be like me. I kept thinking down deep (and this is

embarrassing to admit), that she would eventually see me--really SEE me--and

understand there is a better way to live. I think I always believed my

pseudo-daughter (you know how that goes w/ BP moms) would always look up to her

pseudo-mommy (hi, me) and realize she could change her ways and be good. Like

me. I think I always held on to the magical thinking that she would grow up

some day and be more like me. No more.

> >

> > Finally, I was grieving. And I'm proud of myself for having enough courage

to lay her to rest in my life by allowing this grief process. Anger is a grief

stage. And I'm thankful for it.

> >

> > Now, its time to move on.

> >

> > Any other ideas out there as to what keeps us stuck?

> >

> > THANKS!

> >

> > Blessings,

> > Karla

> >

>

[Guest guest]

Wonderful introspection.

I wanted a mom.

I never felt adequate.

I never felt I truly belonged.

I felt responsible for the actions of others, mostly mom.

I was afraid.

I was angry.

I was convinced I would fail if I tried.

Thanks for all the fleas!

>

> I'm ashamed to admit some of these. I've been trying to get to the

next stage of healing, which means letting go of a lot of anger and

hatred. I needed to list them in the presence of understanding friends:

>

> I am scared of her. She always seemed so big and powerful. She has

no sense of right or wrong, and seems to win every fight. I shut down

and take it when she splits me. At least, I used to. I was always

terrified by her because she could be so cruel, crafty, and cold. And

she would not let up no matter what. Period. That made her scary. If

I stayed angry, I thought I could win in a fight.

>

> I wanted a mom. I think I knew, intuitively, my anger and hatred

towards her was nothing but a " safe " connection to her. The more I let

go of that hate connection, the more there really really really was

nothing else to tie us together. No more.

>

> I wanted to finally be seen, heard, and understood. It was like I

held a door open to her in case she could eventually come around. And

then, to protect myself from her, I had to guard that " opening " with my

anger and constant disgust. No more.

>

> I wanted vengence. It was never right that she got to hurt, abuse,

belittle, humiliate, grind down, and destroy me all she wanted, and I

got to hold the consequences of her hatred. It never bothered her at

all--it never even registered to her that she was doing anything

harmful. Anger helped me to feel like she was getting justice, somehow.

No more. I just can't keep it up any more.

>

> I wanted her to be okay and somewhat sane. The logic goes like this:

If somebody gets mad at a person they love, that person knows to

evaluate their behavior and either change it or explain it or disregard

it or SOMETHING. Somehow, a sane person deals with it if a loved one is

very mad at them. She can't. By getting angry and expecting her to

respond as sane, I was expecting her to be more than she is. She's BP.

She can't deal. She can only lash out. It was my own way of pretending

like she is normal--get mad and hope she acts like she's sane by

responding as a human. No more.

>

> I just wanted her to be like me. I kept thinking down deep (and this

is embarrassing to admit), that she would eventually see me--really SEE

me--and understand there is a better way to live. I think I always

believed my pseudo-daughter (you know how that goes w/ BP moms) would

always look up to her pseudo-mommy (hi, me) and realize she could change

her ways and be good. Like me. I think I always held on to the magical

thinking that she would grow up some day and be more like me. No more.

>

> Finally, I was grieving. And I'm proud of myself for having enough

courage to lay her to rest in my life by allowing this grief process.

Anger is a grief stage. And I'm thankful for it.

>

> Now, its time to move on.

>

> Any other ideas out there as to what keeps us stuck?

>

> THANKS!

>

> Blessings,

> Karla

>

[Guest guest]

Wow Karla. Thank you so much for sharing this. What you have written is the

perfect summary of how I feel, but you have intuited and articulated it so much

better than I ever could have. I'm pleased that you feel proud of how far you

have come in your journey and that you recognise how courageous you are.

Reading your post and many others like it has helped me to realise that I am in

such an elementary stage in this journey. I am still in anger and trying to move

through it, but am afraid to because I am scared of letting my guard down. It

inspires me to see a way forward through other's journeys as I am not able to

myself at this stage.

Walking to Happiness, I was really moved by your thoughts also. You articulated

so well just what it means to try and let go of a mother. It is like losing a

part of yourself, just like grieving somebody who has died as nobody else in the

world will ever see you through that person's eyes. And when this person is your

mother, the very person who supposedly knows you greater than any other and when

their opinion of you is so skewed, it cuts deeply.

Thank you so much for your honesty. I am really inspired by your courage in

letting go of your anger and moving on.

I wish you every happiness.

Lynda

>

> I'm ashamed to admit some of these. I've been trying to get to the next stage

of healing, which means letting go of a lot of anger and hatred. I needed to

list them in the presence of understanding friends:

>

> I am scared of her. She always seemed so big and powerful. She has no sense

of right or wrong, and seems to win every fight. I shut down and take it when

she splits me. At least, I used to. I was always terrified by her because she

could be so cruel, crafty, and cold. And she would not let up no matter what.

Period. That made her scary. If I stayed angry, I thought I could win in a

fight.

>

> I wanted a mom. I think I knew, intuitively, my anger and hatred towards her

was nothing but a " safe " connection to her. The more I let go of that hate

connection, the more there really really really was nothing else to tie us

together. No more.

>

> I wanted to finally be seen, heard, and understood. It was like I held a door

open to her in case she could eventually come around. And then, to protect

myself from her, I had to guard that " opening " with my anger and constant

disgust. No more.

>

> I wanted vengence. It was never right that she got to hurt, abuse, belittle,

humiliate, grind down, and destroy me all she wanted, and I got to hold the

consequences of her hatred. It never bothered her at all--it never even

registered to her that she was doing anything harmful. Anger helped me to feel

like she was getting justice, somehow. No more. I just can't keep it up any

more.

>

> I wanted her to be okay and somewhat sane. The logic goes like this: If

somebody gets mad at a person they love, that person knows to evaluate their

behavior and either change it or explain it or disregard it or SOMETHING.

Somehow, a sane person deals with it if a loved one is very mad at them. She

can't. By getting angry and expecting her to respond as sane, I was expecting

her to be more than she is. She's BP. She can't deal. She can only lash out.

It was my own way of pretending like she is normal--get mad and hope she acts

like she's sane by responding as a human. No more.

>

> I just wanted her to be like me. I kept thinking down deep (and this is

embarrassing to admit), that she would eventually see me--really SEE me--and

understand there is a better way to live. I think I always believed my

pseudo-daughter (you know how that goes w/ BP moms) would always look up to her

pseudo-mommy (hi, me) and realize she could change her ways and be good. Like

me. I think I always held on to the magical thinking that she would grow up

some day and be more like me. No more.

>

> Finally, I was grieving. And I'm proud of myself for having enough courage to

lay her to rest in my life by allowing this grief process. Anger is a grief

stage. And I'm thankful for it.

>

> Now, its time to move on.

>

> Any other ideas out there as to what keeps us stuck?

>

> THANKS!

>

> Blessings,

> Karla

>