I recognise the feelings you describe, anita, Of course we did not have the same story, but I think the pain was very similar. That’s why we understand each other’s story and why, for me, our conversation helps me move on at a fast pace.

The anger is strong, but I think the sense of betrayal is even stronger. Betrayal is a horrible thing. It makes one feel that it is one’s own fault, to be imperfect, unloveable, a tragic disappointment, a dissolution of mother’s dreams. But looking at it from an outside viewpoint, it isn’t hard to see that for the crock of sh!t it really is. It is not a child’s job to make her mother’s dreams come true. Compeletely the opposite, if anything. What a massive betrayal for any mother to make her daughter feel that way! Especially to make you feel so unsafe that you did not know if either one of you might wake in the morning. That is horrendous and it’s no wonder it evokes intense feelings even now.

I am still angry at my mother, furious even, but as I come to understand the enormity of the injustice I suffered, I also – strangely, and somewhat against my will – begin to feel sorry for whatever tragedy made her do what she did. I suspect she had no more control over what happened to her than we had over what happened to us. It doesn’t make it right. But it puts it in perpective. How very sad to think that she might have written about her pain in the same way we have written about ours.

I’m not feeling THAT forgiving yet, but it is certainly something to think about.