This will be the first Christmas I
spend without my mother alive. I wonder if others have experienced anything like this with their parents: while
I remember good times with my mother, she was abusive to me even into my adulthood, making me relieved when she died. My mother could be loving, funny,
generous and creative, and I was very close to her when I was growing up. But when she felt threatened or out of control, she screamed and slammed things and it always felt like the world was ending.
I miss the nice mother she could be, but that person wasn’t around much by the end of her life, and she died last June in a tangle of emotions and
relationships. In her last years, I could find nothing of the warm person I remembered from decades prior. Last summer my mother physically died,
but the person I felt comfortable with disappeared well before that.
Even to the outside world my mother wasn’t an easy person to get along with. In fact, she wasn’t
even in the 50th percentile of easy-to-get-along-with. I’d put her in the bottom ten. In a good mood she was great to be around, but in a
bad mood she was horrible. There are many
people who have trouble regulating their moods and responses (it’s a main
symptom of borderline
personality disorder which I believe my mother had), but they can get better with the proper treatment.
Unfortunately, my mother never accepted that she needed such help.
It was hard enough to have a mother whose moods were unpredictable, but she also leaned hard on me to help her cope with her life. She expected me to ease the strain of her challenging marriage, uncomfortable relationships with others and day-to-day stressors. As the oldest, I ended up cast in the role of her therapist, best friend, massage therapist and other half of her brain. Our minds and emotions were so closely linked that she’d expect me to give her the word she was looking for and I usually could. I was like another limb for her, and it was decades before I understood how damaging this relationship was to me.
To be so closely tied to a woman who was unpredictable, angry and whose love was extremely conditional, terrorized me. From a young age, I learned to walk with a very light step, as if on eggshells, at all times. My radar was always up for her mood. If Mother was okay, I was okay, but if Mother wasn’t okay, alarms went off in my head and I strained to do whatever it took to make things better. Often my efforts weren’t nearly good enough and her tirades convinced me that I was stupid, had no common sense and never did anything right.
When I got older I struggled to establish a healthier
relationship with her, but wasn’t able to. She needed me to be the one she could tell all her problems to and required me to accept any amount of emotional abuse. In my 20s I finally pulled away from that dynamic, asking her to tell me nothing else about my dad that would make me hate him. She never understood why I needed that.
With age her fears deepened, her temper
grew shorter and she never stopped acting abusively towards me. The good times I spent with her became fewer and
farther between until in my 40s, I made the decision to step out of
her life completely. During her final seven years, my mother and I had almost no
contact at all.
even in the 50th percentile of easy-to-get-along-with. I’d put her in the bottom ten. In a good mood she was great to be around, but in a
bad mood she was horrible. There are many
people who have trouble regulating their moods and responses (it’s a main
symptom of borderline
personality disorder which I believe my mother had), but they can get better with the proper treatment.
Unfortunately, my mother never accepted that she needed such help.
It was hard enough to have a mother whose moods were unpredictable, but she also leaned hard on me to help her cope with her life. She expected me to ease the strain of her challenging marriage, uncomfortable relationships with others and day-to-day stressors. As the oldest, I ended up cast in the role of her therapist, best friend, massage therapist and other half of her brain. Our minds and emotions were so closely linked that she’d expect me to give her the word she was looking for and I usually could. I was like another limb for her, and it was decades before I understood how damaging this relationship was to me.
To be so closely tied to a woman who was unpredictable, angry and whose love was extremely conditional, terrorized me. From a young age, I learned to walk with a very light step, as if on eggshells, at all times. My radar was always up for her mood. If Mother was okay, I was okay, but if Mother wasn’t okay, alarms went off in my head and I strained to do whatever it took to make things better. Often my efforts weren’t nearly good enough and her tirades convinced me that I was stupid, had no common sense and never did anything right.
When I got older I struggled to establish a healthier
relationship with her, but wasn’t able to. She needed me to be the one she could tell all her problems to and required me to accept any amount of emotional abuse. In my 20s I finally pulled away from that dynamic, asking her to tell me nothing else about my dad that would make me hate him. She never understood why I needed that.
With age her fears deepened, her temper
grew shorter and she never stopped acting abusively towards me. The good times I spent with her became fewer and
farther between until in my 40s, I made the decision to step out of
her life completely. During her final seven years, my mother and I had almost no
contact at all.
Last June when I told friends and
acquaintances that my mother had died, I made clear that I didn’t need the
usual sympathy and sad looks. I said I’d stopped contact with her years
earlier, healed from the relationship, and had no more grieving to do. Her death was a relief
for me and brought me freedom from this woman whose anger and bitterness was so big that she spent her final weeks inflicting yet more emotional pain on her
family.
acquaintances that my mother had died, I made clear that I didn’t need the
usual sympathy and sad looks. I said I’d stopped contact with her years
earlier, healed from the relationship, and had no more grieving to do. Her death was a relief
for me and brought me freedom from this woman whose anger and bitterness was so big that she spent her final weeks inflicting yet more emotional pain on her
family.
As I talked to people about my
mother, I found that a surprising number of people don’t mourn their mothers’ deaths. I discovered that the world is
full of broken mother-child relationships, and many grown sons and daughters don’t feel sad at all
when their mothers die. I was suprised to find that I wasn’t alone in feeling glad that my mother, with all her rage
and pain, was finally dead.
mother, I found that a surprising number of people don’t mourn their mothers’ deaths. I discovered that the world is
full of broken mother-child relationships, and many grown sons and daughters don’t feel sad at all
when their mothers die. I was suprised to find that I wasn’t alone in feeling glad that my mother, with all her rage
and pain, was finally dead.
My parents were born in Houston, Texas and almost all of my family still lives there. But back in the 1960s, my parents
settled in California, away from all family. Under my mother’s influence, I grew up
believing relatives should be kept at a distance, physically and emotionally. I didn’t get to know my grandparents, cousins, aunts or uncles. My
mother made clear to me that any alliance I might form with anyone besides her
— and this included my father — would be seen by her as a betrayal and I
would be punished accordingly. My mother, who I loved, was the most important
person in my world and I was terrified of doing anything that might make her
angry with me. So I had no other close relationships when I was
growing up, not even with my own father.
settled in California, away from all family. Under my mother’s influence, I grew up
believing relatives should be kept at a distance, physically and emotionally. I didn’t get to know my grandparents, cousins, aunts or uncles. My
mother made clear to me that any alliance I might form with anyone besides her
— and this included my father — would be seen by her as a betrayal and I
would be punished accordingly. My mother, who I loved, was the most important
person in my world and I was terrified of doing anything that might make her
angry with me. So I had no other close relationships when I was
growing up, not even with my own father.
It took years of therapy for me to
realize that a mother shouldn’t require her child’s allegiance at the expense of
all other ties, but even after I broke with her, I continued to
have little do with my extended family. It was a hard habit to break. I didn’t even realize I was still doing it
until my mother’s final weeks when I began communicating more with my cousins and aunts.
This communication represented a huge change for me: I began leaning
emotionally on my aunts, making friends with my cousins and getting to
know those cousins’ children (with my prosopagnosia I have a lot of
trouble keeping them straight).
Another big step for me is that this year I’m
spending Christmas Day in Houston, with all those great people I’m related
to. I didn’t do that before because I didn’t want my mother to feel envious and
angry that I was spending Christmas with our extended family, instead of with her.
realize that a mother shouldn’t require her child’s allegiance at the expense of
all other ties, but even after I broke with her, I continued to
have little do with my extended family. It was a hard habit to break. I didn’t even realize I was still doing it
until my mother’s final weeks when I began communicating more with my cousins and aunts.
This communication represented a huge change for me: I began leaning
emotionally on my aunts, making friends with my cousins and getting to
know those cousins’ children (with my prosopagnosia I have a lot of
trouble keeping them straight).
Another big step for me is that this year I’m
spending Christmas Day in Houston, with all those great people I’m related
to. I didn’t do that before because I didn’t want my mother to feel envious and
angry that I was spending Christmas with our extended family, instead of with her.
Now that I’m free from my mother,
at the age of 47, I’m finally getting to know my family better, including my
father. I had stopped visiting my parents, but now it’s safe to return. My dad
and I email more than ever and I’m going to visit him next month. I like him!
It turns out my dad’s a cool guy. I have yet to face the pain of fully
realizing that I could have had this great dad in my life all along if my
mother hadn’t blocked our relationship. I needed a good father desperately
during those decades, but it’s not too late. I plan to
make the most of the time we have left.
at the age of 47, I’m finally getting to know my family better, including my
father. I had stopped visiting my parents, but now it’s safe to return. My dad
and I email more than ever and I’m going to visit him next month. I like him!
It turns out my dad’s a cool guy. I have yet to face the pain of fully
realizing that I could have had this great dad in my life all along if my
mother hadn’t blocked our relationship. I needed a good father desperately
during those decades, but it’s not too late. I plan to
make the most of the time we have left.
It’s the first Christmas after the
death of my mother and it feels good. I’m now safe to love the people in my
life the way they deserve, the way I should have always been able to love them. I’m grateful to be able to enjoy the holidays without worrying
about the price my mother will later exact from me. This is not a sad December. I feel great freedom
and gratitude and I look forward to building relationships with the family I missed
out on for so long. This is going to be a good Christmas and a good rest of my life.
death of my mother and it feels good. I’m now safe to love the people in my
life the way they deserve, the way I should have always been able to love them. I’m grateful to be able to enjoy the holidays without worrying
about the price my mother will later exact from me. This is not a sad December. I feel great freedom
and gratitude and I look forward to building relationships with the family I missed
out on for so long. This is going to be a good Christmas and a good rest of my life.
Thank you, Jess. I hope you're able to have the relationship you want with your dad one day.
Reg, you know our situations are almost identical. I am glad for you that you've been able to reconnect with your father. My own dad is still so connected to and with my mom's way of life (she's still alive) that a relationship with him is impossible. They feed each other's false selves, and because of that, I don't know if I will ever have what you have. I'm glad that this is a part of how you're doing Christmas in a way that's healthy for you.