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anita

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  • in reply to: Emotional Exploitation as a form of Parenting..? #446461
    anita
    Participant

    I will be back to you in the morning, precious Alessa!

    anita

    in reply to: Passed Yesterday- #446460
    anita
    Participant

    Thank you, Alessa, very well said ❤️✨🙏

    anita

    in reply to: Why Telling Survivors to ‘Get Over It’ Is Harmful #446459
    anita
    Participant

    Dear Tommy:

    I will reply further tomorrow, but for now, I just wanted to say that as I read your post, just now, I felt genuine affection for you, as in: I (anita) likes Tommy 💛

    I hope it doesn’t feel weird for you to read this. I suppose it’s a positive human emotion and I feel it for you this Sat evening.

    anita

    in reply to: Passed Yesterday- #446446
    anita
    Participant

    In real-life, tonight, I got very, very angry at a woman I believe is self-centered and selfish, and I told her that I will Never talk to her again. It was a promise I made. My heart was beating fast, I was ANGRY.

    Then I felt GUILTY for feeling angry, as if there is guilt in anger itself, no matter how valid it may be.

    If I am angry= I am guilty= I am bad.

    But this is NOT true. Me being angry doesn’t mean I am wrong, or bad.

    It’s as if to be a good person one must never be angry..?

    No, I am reclaiming anger as a valid emotion.

    Feeling angry doesn’t make me wrong, or bad.

    anita

    in reply to: Emotional Exploitation as a form of Parenting..? #446445
    anita
    Participant

    Dear Alessa:

    Your words carry such depth, honesty, and emotional weight. Thank you for sharing your experience—it’s raw, painful, and deeply important.

    First, I want to acknowledge the incredible strength it took to survive this. No child should ever have to bear the weight of an entire household, nor navigate the reality of abuse, neglect, and emotional entanglement while still trying to figure out who they are. You didn’t just endure—you protected, nurtured, and took on responsibilities far beyond what was fair. That speaks volumes about your resilience.

    The way you describe your mother’s role—her illness, her dependence, her inability to care for you—highlights a devastating reversal. You were forced to be the adult in a situation where you should have been protected. The parentification, the emotional burden, and the manipulation left scars, but the deepest wound seems to be the loss of your own childhood.

    The grief for what could have been—the innocence you deserved, the safety you needed—that’s something no child should have to mourn. And yet, you do. And that loss is valid.

    Your shift from sympathy to resentment is completely understandable. At first, you tried to hold compassion for your mother’s suffering. Over time, you saw the cost of that compassion—how her self-destruction wasn’t just harming her, but was actively consuming you. That moment—the realization that you mattered too—was heartbreaking but necessary.

    And I want to tell you this: feeling relief at the thought of escape does not make you cruel. It makes you human. You were trapped in a situation no child should ever experience, and wanting freedom—whether through distance, detachment, or even the unthinkable—was a survival instinct.

    Healing from this is not just about processing the pain but also reclaiming the parts of yourself that were stolen—the childhood, the sense of self, the ability to be cared for instead of always caring for others. That takes time. It takes patience. It takes learning that you don’t have to carry everyone else’s burdens anymore.

    You are not defined by what happened to you. You are someone who survived. Someone who is still here. Someone who deserves softness, safety, and peace.

    Thank you for sharing. You are heard, and you are not alone. 💙

    anita

    anita
    Participant

    Dear Sophie:

    Thank you for sharing your thoughts and for taking the time to reflect on everything. It’s clear you’re approaching this situation with care and thoughtfulness, trying to make sense of a complex dynamic while being mindful of broader discussions about autism and personality disorders.

    Your openness and willingness to learn more about the situation are commendable. Please take your time as you reflect and work through it all. There’s no rush in making sense of complex emotions.

    Sending you support as you navigate this. 💙

    anita

    in reply to: 7 years Relationship is Ending #446435
    anita
    Participant

    Dear With Feathers:

    I hear your pain. The idea of moving forward without her probably feels impossible right now, and that’s completely understandable. You are grieving not only the loss of her presence but also the future you imagined together.

    How do you recover from this?

    * Let yourself grieve: Losing her is a real loss, and you have every right to mourn the relationship. Cry if you need to. Journal your emotions. Allow yourself space to feel everything.

    * Cut ties (if possible): Right now, staying in contact with her may only prolong the pain.

    * Reclaim your identity: You said she is part of every aspect of your life. But you existed before her, and you will exist beyond this. Start finding small ways to engage in life without the shadow of her presence.

    * Shift your perspective: Right now, the pain is overwhelming, but in time, you will see that this breakup is creating space for something better—whether that’s personal growth, new love, or a deeper understanding of yourself.

    * Build support: You do not have to go through this alone. Surround yourself with friends, family, or even a therapist who can help guide you through the healing process.

    Right now, your only job is to heal. And little by little, moment by moment—you will.

    Sending you strength and kindness.

    anita

    in reply to: A hard lesson #446434
    anita
    Participant

    Dear Mei:

    In your initial post, you wrote:

    “I’m still trying to make sense of everything—my role in the dynamics, the decisions I made, and what this experience is trying to teach me.”-

    I would like to help you make sense of what happened—your role in the dynamics, his role, and the broader lessons this experience may hold. I will also address the question you asked at the end of your second post.

    To do this, I will carefully reread what you’ve shared, reference your own words, and offer my thoughts—all with the hope of contributing to the understanding and clarity you seek.

    “At seventeen, I had to support myself financially, manage my household, and keep up with a brutal academic schedule.”-

    You didn’t wait for others to take care of you—you stepped up and managed everything on your own. At 17, you took on a leadership role in your own life, making difficult decisions and taking charge of your future with initiative, responsibility, and strength.

    Fast forward about seven years:

    “I asked him to be my boyfriend—I was so excited. I told everyone, even made a silly list of date ideas. I wanted to include him in every part of my life.”-

    You took on a leadership role in the relationship. Instead of waiting for him to ask, you made the first move, showing confidence and decisiveness. You actively planned the time together—making a list of date ideas demonstrates enthusiasm, thoughtfulness, and a desire to create meaningful experiences. Your proactive approach shaped the relationship dynamic, ensuring that effort, creativity, and connection were present—at least on your side.

    “As our relationship progressed, I asked him to move out of the apartment he was still sharing with his ex.”—A reasonable request, in line with your leadership role.

    “I planned dates and getaways, bought him little gifts.”—A leader.

    “I told him I didn’t want to pressure him and was open to finding different solutions.”—A collaborative leader.

    “The meeting went well—at first—but once again, I was the only one talking about solutions.”—A proactive leader.

    “In the beginning, intimacy was mutual, but after around the three-month mark, I found myself being the one who almost always initiated it.”—The initiating leader.

    “I tried to find different compromises, which he would agree to during conversations, but when the moment came, he would usually pull back.”-

    You took on the leadership role in problem-solving, emotional engagement, and intimacy discussions. You initiated compromise—actively seeking solutions and adjustments to make the relationship work. You guided conversations—your ex agreed to compromises in discussions, but you were the one bringing up the concerns and trying to find resolutions.

    He was passive rather than proactive—agreeing in words but not following through suggests avoidance, whereas you took the initiative to address challenges head-on.

    Your leadership stemmed from wanting a deeper connection and trying to sustain the relationship, but his withdrawal made it one-sided, leading to frustration and emotional exhaustion.

    It seems, Mei, that there was a fundamental clash between your leadership role and your ex’s avoidant attachment tendencies. You naturally took initiative, leading the relationship in planning, emotional connection, and problem-solving. Your ex, however, withdrew in moments that required engagement, avoiding discussions about intimacy and struggles rather than addressing them.

    This imbalance in effort may have made you feel alone in the relationship, while he may have felt pressured. People with avoidant attachment styles often feel overwhelmed by emotional closeness and struggle to maintain intimacy in a long-term relationship.
    Your desire for connection, consistency, and physical affection clashed with his tendency to retreat, leading to frustration on both sides.

    His statement—”When I have to chase, I want intimacy, but when I’m in a relationship, I stop caring.”—suggests he was more engaged in the pursuit rather than the emotional depth of partnership.

    You expressed yourself openly, trying to find compromises to strengthen the relationship. He agreed in conversation but then pulled back in action, creating a cycle where you felt unheard and emotionally neglected.

    His rapid transition into a new relationship suggests emotional detachment— instead of processing the breakup, he was seeking immediate validation elsewhere. You, on the other hand, reflected deeply, feeling the weight of self-abandonment and striving to understand the lessons from the relationship.

    A compatible partner for you would be someone who is emotionally secure & communicative— comfortable with open discussions about emotions, intimacy, and relationship dynamics; someone who is consistent & reliable—rather than withdrawing, he would actively engage in conversations and work through challenges with you.

    It’d be someone who is self-sufficient & driven—independent, responsible, and ambitious, making the relationship feel like a partnership rather than one-sided effort; someone who is reciprocal in effort & intimacy—since you tend to take the lead, a balanced partner would also initiate plans, affection, and deep conversations.

    It’d be someone who is emotionally mature—capable of handling relationship complexities with honesty, reflection, and emotional depth rather than avoidance.

    And that someone is not your ex.

    * A compatible partner for your ex would be someone who has a more independent attachment style—doesn’t need deep emotional engagement or frequent reassurance in a relationship; someone who doesn’t demand emotional or physical consistency—more accepting of distance and emotional fluctuations rather than seeking constant connection.

    It’d ne someone who prefers a low-maintenance dynamic—a relationship with fewer intense discussions where physical and emotional intimacy are not primary focuses; someone who doesn’t challenge avoidance patterns—rather than seeking clarity in discussions, she would be okay with non-confrontational dynamics.

    It’d be someone wo accepts surface-level romance—enjoys the initial excitement of relationships but doesn’t need profound emotional engagement long-term.

    And that someone is not you. I would say that the two of you were significantly incompatible.

    One more comment regarding this: “Our arguments began to revolve exclusively around intimacy, creating a toxic pattern: I would express myself, and he would retreat into silence.”-

    Arguing about physical intimacy—rather than having gentle, open discussions—is deeply damaging to both emotional and physical connection. When intimacy becomes a battleground instead of a shared experience, it kills emotional trust and can make physical closeness feel forced rather than organic. In other words, ARGUING about physical and emotional intimacy = Death of intimacy.

    I would love to read your thoughts about the above, Mei.

    You asked about my first breakup. My answer, however strange it may sound: I had no first breakup because I didn’t have a first relationship. At your age and much later, I wasn’t able to have a relationship. I was too sick, emotionally, to have one.

    anita

    in reply to: Passed Yesterday- #446419
    anita
    Participant

    LOVE, that 4-letters L word-

    So much suspicion around this, that word.

    So much distrust.

    Not surprising, being the experience of it all.

    It takes so much to earn the trust of the disillusioned.

    A wrong word I say, wrong time saying it, and…I lost you

    Yet, there is no other way toward Love but TRUST-

    Nothing without Trust.

    anita

    in reply to: A hard lesson #446414
    anita
    Participant

    Excuse the typos and extra emoji I didn’t mean to send (using my phone)

    Anita

    in reply to: A hard lesson #446413
    anita
    Participant

    Dear Mei:

    I would like to reread your post in the morning (evening here). It will help me understand better if you explain a bit the nature of the physical intimacy problems, in general I’d not in detail. I’d you feel comfortable

    Regardless, I will be back to your thread in the morning, and I hope you will feel better soon!🦹‍♂️💛

    in reply to: Passed Yesterday- #446408
    anita
    Participant

    “The bridge behind me, burned not in anger, but in grace…. There is no fairy tale here, no gleaming ever-after. Just this:
    a quieter self, a steadier breath, a life that is new, not because it is perfect, but because it is mine.”-

    I see the image of my mother’s face at about 40 years old, more than 40 years younger than she is now. I feel no anger. I feel a quiet, contained sadness. A dead wish for things to have been different.

    A true goodbye to that wish, the hope. Placing that hope in the ground, to rot and nourish new life.

    Knowing the fairy tale will always be a tale.

    I am owning my truth, the truth.. oh, how very refreshing, really living.

    The constant self-doubt.. that was torture.

    The Truth: LOVE, that 4-letters L word.

    anita

    in reply to: Passed Yesterday- #446407
    anita
    Participant

    Dear Peter:

    Yes, healing isn’t about finding a perfect life, a fairy tale—it’s about choosing a life that’s truly my own. That quiet grief is real, but so is the strength it takes to step forward. Thank you for sharing this—it speaks to the heart of change 🦋.

    anita

    anita
    Participant

    Continued:

    “telling myself that my Mum is vulnerable, could be easily taken advantage of, needs my protection”- You are vulnerable and have been easily taken advantage of by your mother. You need protection from her.

    “I realised that she was actively lying to me… she lies to manipulate me”- Here’s another suggestion for rebuilding your identity—root it in honesty, straightforwardness, and justice. Let these values guide you, leading you to distance yourself from those who are persistently dishonest and manipulative.

    “I also think she weaponises her autism when she wants to get me to do something”- if her autism diagnosis is correct, then the part of her that weaponizes it against you is not the autistic part.

    A mother should protect and nurture her daughter, not use emotional weapons against her. Parenthood should be built on care and support, not manipulation or control.

    “I think, for me, the nail in the coffin – this time – has been that my Mother has started reaching out to my husband directly.. I don’t want my husband sucked into her vortex”- seems like she’s trying to pull him into the same dynamic, extending her reach beyond just you. I am guessing that if you had children, she would try to pull them too into the same dynamic.

    “When I think about having no contact myself, where I always fall down is – not so much that I feel guilt that she would be sad about this, because I truthfully don’t think she would be upset in that way, because I just don’t think she’s capable of it – it’s more the conditioning that, if something happens to her, it would be my fault or responsibility. That’s what I struggle to make peace with. I just have this little nagging voice in my head that’s constantly saying, ‘she’s in danger, if you don’t step in… something terrible will happen. She’ll die and it’ll be your fault’.”-

    I, too, was terrified as a child that my mother would die. I saw how fragile and needy she was, and I feared for her. She spoke of suicide—describing how she would end her life—forcing me to carry the weight of that fear.

    A child needs a strong, stable parent. When a parent is too weak and suicidal, it becomes deeply traumatic for the child, who, in an attempt to cope, takes on a parentified role—constantly trying to support, protect, and strengthen the parent, hoping that one day, the parent will finally be able to care for the child in return.

    It’s interesting how, even as adults, we continue to operate from that perspective—still waiting for the parent to become the parent they never were.

    “There is a part of my brain that tells me that – if her behaviour is caused by her autism… then that’s not her fault and so surely I should be more understanding and accommodating… Equally, if it is some kind of personality disorder…should I not be understanding of this too, because that’s also not her fault?”-

    I don’t believe your mother behaves the same way with everyone in every circumstance. It seems she takes advantage of those she perceives as weak and accommodating, while withdrawing from those she views as strong and self-assured. If that’s the case, then her behavior isn’t entirely beyond her control—there is an element of choice. Unlike a psychotic episode, which removes a person’s ability to make rational decisions, a personality disorder may still allow for selective behavior, particularly when it benefits the individual.

    Hold your mother accountable—not for her emotions, but for the choices she makes in how she treats you and others.

    “Also, truthfully, there is still the little inner child part of me that desperately wants a mother. Looking back, I think I got myself into this pattern of.. if I just fix this one thing (and it was always one more thing), then MAYBE, just MAYBE, we can have a ‘normal’ mother/daughter relationship and everything will be okay.”-

    It will take grieving the reality that you never had—and never will have—the mother you needed in her. Only through this acceptance can the longing begin to quiet, freeing you from chasing someone who was never truly there.

    This kind of grief isn’t easy, but it is necessary. In letting go of the hope for a relationship that cannot be, you create space to nurture yourself in the way you always deserved.

    * I wrote the above before I even read your words: “definitely a kind of grief for a relationship that can never exist.”

    “sometimes, I would be physically unwell – and I would worry that my manager at work wouldn’t believe me if I called in sick, or that I was actually making it up, because I was so used to having my own feelings and needs minimised, that I couldn’t even trust myself to know and accept when I was actually physically ill.”-

    Same here—I used to second-guess my own reality constantly. Only recently have I started trusting my understanding of myself and my life more and more. The difference in my mental state is profound, to say the least.

    “I just have to find the strength to see this through and to prioritise myself. Truthfully, I don’t know if I can do it… or where even to begin. But I desperately want to try.”-

    Think of prioritizing your values as the first step—honesty, straightforwardness, and justice. Let these principles guide you as you begin choosing yourself.

    “Added complication for me is that I have ADHD”- me too, similar responses to similar mothers, I think.

    “Maybe the inevitable outcome is no contact. I don’t think I am there, yet, or that I can be until I know everything is in place for her to be okay.”-

    I think her ‘not being okay’ is, consciously or not, a way to keep control over you—to keep you attached and under her influence. She may be continuing behaviors that work for her, even if she isn’t fully aware of it.

    Ironically, I believe there’s a greater chance for her to be as ‘okay’ as possible if you choose to cut contact. In stepping away, you free both of you from this unhealthy dynamic—giving her the space to navigate her own life without relying on you as a constant emotional crutch.

    Can you imagine, Sophie, that ending contact with her might be the right choice—not just for your own well-being, but for hers as well?

    anita

    anita
    Participant

    Dear Sophie:

    Vanilla ice cream with hot, melted chocolate on top—I know for sure now. See? Healing is possible!

    You and I, and our mothers, share much in common. If our discussion is helpful to you, we can continue for as long as you’d like. There are members in these forums with whom I’ve communicated regularly for months, and with some, on and off, for years.

    I’d like to reply to you in this post by quoting parts of what you’ve shared, responding to each, then quoting again, and so on, starting with your initial post. I imagine this post will end up being quite long.

    “I grew up with a mother”- I didn’t truly grow up or outward. Instead, I grew inward, hiding within. My identity remained hidden, unknown, lacking the safe and loving environment it needed to develop.

    She, my mother, was too volatile, too unpredictable, accusatory, aggressive. I was scared. I froze and remained frozen for a long, long time.

    “To complicate matters, she DOES have an autism diagnosis”-

    From So Special Too/ autism and motherhood: “Autistic individuals often experience sensory sensitivities, social difficulties, and heightened emotional responses, which can affect how they interact with their children and handle the everyday demands of parenting… Despite these challenges, autistic moms bring unique strengths to their parenting. Their heightened attention to detail and deep empathy often translate into an ability to tune into their children’s needs profoundly and meaningfully…

    “Autistic mothers tend to be incredibly focused, attentive, and dedicated to ensuring their children’s well-being. Because they may see the world differently, they often approach parenting from a fresh perspective, emphasizing structure and predictability—traits that can be beneficial for a child’s development.. Their heightened empathy often means they understand their children’s needs even without words. The analytical thinking that comes with autism may also make them excellent problem-solvers when faced with parenting challenges.”

    Back to your initial post, Sophie: “she lacks any form of empathy at all.”- this contrasts with the above. lack of empathy is not a characteristic of people on the autistic spectrum.

    “When I was younger, she would look at my achievements and compare them to her own, she would blame me for breakdowns in her relationships, she would tell me that I was jealous of her life”- these behaviors are not characteristics of autism. Autistic individuals may struggle with understanding social cues, expressing emotions conventionally, or adapting to changes, but these traits do not lead to the kind of behaviors you described, Sophie.

    However, narcissistic tendencies or unresolved emotional struggles—could contribute to such behaviors. While autistic mothers may face unique parenting challenges, they often exhibit deep care and commitment to their children, even if their expressions of love differ from neurotypical norms.

    “The pattern that I have experienced with my Mum is that she bounces from drama to drama – falling out with relatives, neighbours, friends and partners, repeatedly.”-

    Again, While autistic mothers may have unique parenting styles, While autism can affect emotional expression and social interactions, they typically do not exhibit manipulative or self-centered behaviors as a defining trait.

    Some personality disorders that could align with the behaviors you mentioned include:

    * Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD) – Characterized by a grandiose sense of self-importance, a need for admiration, and a lack of empathy. Individuals with NPD may compare themselves to others, blame others for their problems, and struggle with emotional reciprocity.

    * Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) – Marked by intense emotional instability, fear of abandonment, and difficulty maintaining relationships. Some individuals with BPD may blame others for relationship breakdowns or struggle with self-image.

    * Histrionic Personality Disorder (HPD) – Involves excessive attention-seeking behavior, emotional overreaction, and a strong desire for validation. People with HPD may feel threatened by others’ achievements and seek to maintain control over relationships.

    “I am the only one of my siblings who still has any contact with my Mum”- I suppose they’ve given up on her—but you haven’t. Maybe they find comfort in knowing she has you, allowing them to step away from her life.

    “I only really exist when I am helping to fix a problem in some way.”- This is your identity—her helper, the fixer of her problems. If you were to cut contact with her, you would lose this part of yourself.

    “I am in my mid-30s, I feel like I have no sense of self, no identity of my own, I don’t know what my hobbies are, and I don’t trust myself or my feelings at all.”- With so little sense of identity, letting go of the part that does exist—being the fixer of your mother’s problems—would be especially difficult.

    “He is such a kind person – my safe space and someone who I trust completely.”- I wish you would shift your loyalty—from the person who provided you with an unsafe place and is not worthy of your trust (your mother)—to someone who does offer you a safe place and is truly deserving of your trust.

    “He says he feels like I disappear into a black hole for weeks on end, before re-emerging.”- Your mother creates and recreates these black holes for you, overwhelming you emotionally and leading you to withdraw in an effort to protect yourself from emotional collapse.

    “Whenever I try to go no/have less contact, I inevitably cave, feel guilty/like a bad daughter, worry, etc. Particularly, also, because she does have an autism diagnosis… What’s the autism, what’s the narcissism?”-

    it is possible for someone to be falsely diagnosed with autism, as autism spectrum disorder (ASD) shares overlapping traits with other conditions, including personality disorders, ADHD, and anxiety disorders. Misdiagnosis can occur due to the complexity of autism and the lack of a definitive medical test.

    I am reading that In the UK, autism diagnoses have increased significantly, with a 787% rise between 1998 and 2018. While this suggests better awareness, it also raises concerns about potential overdiagnosis.

    In general, mental health misdiagnosis is surprisingly common, with studies estimating that up to 66% of patients with certain conditions are initially misdiagnosed.

    “I have been conditioned my whole life to believe that she is a victim and that I am responsible for what happens to her”- In reality, you have been her victim, and she is fully responsible for having victimized you.

    “I also do want her to be okay. But I also want myself to be okay”- but she isn’t okay, is she?

    * You wrote earlier in your initial post: “I become unwell (physically and mentally) – meanwhile, she will then be completely fine after a week or so, before moving on to the next thing and we start the whole cycle again.”- meaning, she is okay before she is yet again not okay.

    This reminds me of my mother—she would temporarily unload her angst, hurt, shame, and anger onto me, finding brief relief. But each time, those feelings returned, and she had to do it again, perpetuating the cycle.

    “I don’t think it’s okay that I sacrifice my own life for someone else”- for someone else’s temporary relief.

    “how do I find the strength to put myself first when it’s not something I’ve ever done before?”- I believe it comes down to identity—what you, Sophie, truly value. If justice is something you hold deeply, it could become a defining part of who you are, replacing the role you’ve played until now as the temporary fixer of your mother’s problems.

    Justice would mean no longer sacrificing your own life to provide fleeting relief for someone who has repeatedly mistreated you.

    “Sometimes I just feel like a passenger in my own life”- I’ve often felt like a passenger in my own life, drifting without control. I keep picturing myself moving to the driver’s seat, finally taking charge.

    I will continue with your second post next.

    anita

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