Dear Anita,

I started reading your post just after waking up from my nap, and these words “yes, I live in the countryside, in a forest, on hills facing a valley. ” made me smile. And the detailed description, even more! It will be nice imagining your walks from now on. Nature is really beautiful and inspiring. It stimulates my creativity. Did the bear and the coyotes frighten you?

“I woke up a bit later than the usual lately, felt less tired as I got up and thought to myself: I will tell Linarra that I slept better somewhat”

I’m glad there is improvement in your sleep, I hope it’ll keep getting longer!

“means that you think that maybe her progress will be permanent, you are still hoping that maybe..” “not the worse= a relief= an accomplishment=a job well done by you.”

Are you thinking this hope and this sense of accomplishment is keeping me there?

” It enrages me that the life she offered you was to be “on the verge of dying at every little action she does or could do”.

Just mental death though, even if I guess it doesn’t make it much better. (Though I guess there were some physical risks, like when she drove us while being drunk or drugged. But that was mostly anxiety-inducing, I could recover from that. Nothing is as destructive as the weight of living with her insanity and hating yourself because you cannot leave.)

“here is where I see the main problem in regard to your “Healing and becoming functional” (the title of your thread): the word our, in “our well being”, you see you, your brother, your sister and your mother as one unit, us/ our. You are not separating the victimizer from the victims in the context of your household.”

Well, I was only thinking about my siblings and me while writing the sentence. I acknowledge a part of me is telling me I am selfish by only thinking about my siblings and me, and that part of me is my mother’s voice, who has been pleading to me since I was a child and guilt-tripping me all my life.

“That’s my point: it doesn’t make sense for you to place your mother together with her victims as we, us, or our.”

Yeah. I guess I’ll have to be precise with what I mean by “we” from now on…

“I wonder if this is how you show her love: receiving her insults, accommodating her need to insult you when she feels like it.”

This idea is really off-putting. I hope not. When I let her it feels more because I am too tired to fight than something that I do out of love…

 “you felt “really nice” at the idea of not being owned by your mother. It will take feeling really excited at the idea to motivate you to want this for yourself, to want to not be owned by her.”

It makes sense. I wonder how I’ll be able to achieve that.

“cutting the mother ownership starts with realizing that you and your mother are not the same person, that there is no “we” or “us” or “our”. It starts when you realize that you loved her all along but she did not and does not love you back. It starts when you realize that you confused your love for her with her (non-existent) love for you.”

Alright. Ew, so let’s sum it up. She and I, two different persons. And my disgusting love for that woman, not reciprocated.

“it is not necessary to have a job or be rich or be considered a productive member of society in order to be in the process of creating your own life (within the limitations of life). But it is necessary to not be living with and interacting with your mother.” ” “I meant that after a long time of no longer seeing her in real life, of not hearing her voice, of not communicating with her- then you can see the image of her in your mind as just another random person.”

Thank you for the clarifications.

Earlier, before my nap and after I just refused a spontaneous offer from my friend to go out (I don’t have the energy to wear a social mask lately), I thought again about how to reach freedom as I was drowsy. The only thing that came to my mind was my death. Not seriously or very emotionally, but calmly. This is an old pattern. When I think of any kind of escape, it’s never living that comes into my mind. Not that I want to die, I just don’t know how to live anymore. And being a living dead makes me feel bad.

My brother thinks I’ll need meds or some kind of drug to change my brain patterns. I’m cautious with this idea because I saw my mother use meds no very wisely. Maybe that’s what I need to feel enough emotions to initiate changes myself? But meds are supposed to be used as an help with actual actions and actual therapy. If I am still unable to figure out actions or find more motivation even with medications though… it would be bad.

It’s 7:00 pm here, 10:00 your time. Tomorrow I’ll go out because I have an appointment to get vaccinated. I hope it won’t be too overwhelming. I think as I’ll see the hills on the road until there, I will think of you.

Linarra