Continued:

It’s mind boggling to me, the truth of it, the reality of it: that I invested all of me, for half a century, in a project (my mother’s love) that was 100% a failure project, as she was blind and deaf to me. Looking back, there was 0% chance of her hearing or seeing me. When I say zero, I am not exaggerating. It was- is-  zero chance for me to be heard or seen by my mother.

She just couldn’t, didn’t have it in her, the ability to see/ hear me.

That was/ is Fact.  Always has been, since the day I was brought into the world.

So, I .. shake off me 1/2 a century of a wasted life.. a misunderstanding, on my part.

Notice, it’s been a waste of half a century (for crying out loud!) of my life, not because of war or a natural disaster, but because my mother couldn’t, wouldn’t see me/ hear me/ acknowledge that I Am Here, in this world.

To be continued-‘

anita

Continued:

I couldn’t love me (=care about my well-being), for half a century+, because I kept loving my mother (caring about her well-being), and her well-being was dependent on destroying mine. She used me to EXpress her misery and rage, to relieve the pressure within her, so to live another day.

She INserted her misery (through histrionic displays) and rage (through raging displays) into me, so that she could- temporarily- be free of that misery and rage.. so that she could get a relief.

For more than half a century, I kept loving the woman who used me in this way, used me as a repository for her misery and her rage, a receptacle, a container.

Misery and Rage Container is an accurate description of what I was about.

It takes a lifetime (a half a century+) to see this terrible truth as it is.

I can’t think of a more appropriate a definition of Enemy than what my mother has been to me.

That my mother was born a good, innocent little girl who was abused, terribly mistreated- before I was born– makes no difference to my experience of being a total victim of a vicious enemy, the enemy that the former innocent girl has become.. in my life.

I have never been as clear as I am this evening. It’s all so clear.

She is old now, and every time I thought about the physical age-related aches and pains she must be going through (I haven’t talked to her/ seen her for over 11 years), I used to feel pain for her being in pain, every single time, until this Tues, June 4, 2024. The strangest thing happened this evening, for the FIRST time in my life: I smiled when I thought about her being in  pain.

I want to clarify: if it was up to me, she wouldn’t be in pain at all; if it was up to me, there would be no war, no violence in the whole world. But since it’s not up to me, the thought of my mother in pain- for the very first time in my life- made me smile.

I can’t believe it, this has never happened before!

What a strange, strange thing: the smile just happened, and I didn’t feel badly about smiling!

It reminds me of the smile she had on her face right after she shot a few shaming, hurtful words my way, uncensored; equipped with as much shame- ammunition as possible; that anticipatory smile, anticipating hurt and shame to be registered on my face, anticipating it with pleasure, the corners of her mouth going slightly up. Waiting for my pain; My Pain= Her Pleasure.

I was never able to wrap my mind around it: that my pain meant pleasure to her (No, it can’t be, it’s impossible!). It can be. It happened to me.

It’s such a horrible truth, but truth nonetheless. No more doubting that mild, anticipatory smile on her face.

To be continued-

anita

Continued:

Seems like suddenly (as in after half a century), I am not angry at my mother anymore. I never allowed myself to NOT be angry at her because I was afraid that otherwise, I will get close to her again.. and get hurt again. But now, as I hold myself accountable to the promise I made to the child-within-me (aka inner child) to never see her again irl, never hear her voice, never feel her hand in mine or any such thing, never communicate with her in any way.. Now, that I trust this promise to myself, I am no longer angry at her.

Strange. It’s like I let her go, let her be gone.

I hold myself accountable to the promise I made to me. To never expose myself to the woman who stole so much of my life, the majority of it, quality wise, never re-expose myself to my “personal Nazi”, as I referred to her 40 years ago, the one who having made my childhood, “my personal holocaust”. She made my life.. my private holocaust. And this is the truth, when it comes to my mother-myself, when it comes to my life.

To be continued, still-

anita

Continued:

I never paid much attention to the word narcissistic (and to the diagnosis of Narcissistic Personality Disorder, NPD) because it’s so commonly used online and elsewhere as name calling. It is only recently, that I am taking the term/ diagnosis seriously when it comes to my mother. I accepted long ago, that she is/ has been a mix of these personality disorders: Borderline, Histrionic, Paranoid, and Obsessive Compulsive, showing strong evidence for each part of this 4-part combo.

Understanding myself requires that I understand her because of the very, very long-term fusion- in my mind- between who I am, and who she is. Recently, I see that I cannot understand her without adding a 5th part of the 4-part combo above, a 5th part that is the basis for the other 4: her NPD, the covert type.

It explains her “highly developed compensatory false self” (quotes are from online sources about NPD) which created great confusion and self-doubt on my part: for how can such a nice, friendly, empathetic, good person- with others-  be the bad mother that I personally, and privately experienced?

It explains why she didn’t see me as a person (entitled to my own thoughts and feelings, such that are not always identical to hers), how she was not about relating to me, but about dominating me, and using me to feel better; how she placed herself in the center of attention with me and in every social occasion, if it was possible for her to do so. It explains how I was not allowed to be a center of attention (except as a thing to be cleaned, dressed, fed, and brought back to health when I was sick with fever).

To her, I did not exist as a  person, I was a thing that she expected to .. be her/ an extension of her who thinks her thoughts, feels her feelings at all times. It explains her RAGE, her narcissistic rage: “unreasonable, disproportional and cuttingly aggressive… intentionally trying to inflict pain.., on others“. It explains how in her mind, the problem was always someone else, always my fault. It explains why she never took in any of what I tried to educate her with (as a teenager, reading about psychology in books, trying to help her).

It explains to me that really, there was nothing I could have been differently or done differently to have anything but a troubled relationship with her. A healthy relationship was simply not possible: not because of who I was, but because of who she was/ is.

There are things I understand most recently that I never understood before: before, I thought that she was the only good person in the world, and everyone else was bad and taking advantage of her (that was her histrionic theme). Most recently, a thought occurred to me for the first time: if she was the only good person in the world, the only person in the world who is being taken advantage of (because she is good), who do all the many millions of bad people in the world taking advantage of? They can’t all be taking advantage of my mother..?

In other words, if (according to her theme), she is and has been the only victim in the world, and everyone else (including myself) are her victimizers/ the perpetrators.. who are all the many millions of perpetrators victimizing? Surely, my mother is not available to be victimized in every town, city, country, continent, every moment of every day and night?

Surely, my mother is not omnipresent, except in her own narcissistic mind where she is everywhere and there’s no one there but her.

* I am still not angry at her, still no-longer angry after a lifetime of angry..

anita

Continued a bit tonight:

I just double checked, asking someone who just had a meeting with other people, very locally: “what do they say about me being a hard worker?” and the person said: they say you are the hardest working person around here! I was told this in person too, and I am so pleased, so proud, because my mother used to say (again and again and again and again.. and again.. and f**** again) that I am LAZY..  But  these wild-west, hard working farmers and others around here say that I am the hardest working person in this wild-west world, so she was/ is WRONG. Always have been wrong: I was NEVER the bad, lazy person she said I was.

I will still hear HER words, especially when I am tired, like earlier today, the recording will re-play, such is the nature of the brain. But I want to remember that.. I am the HARDEST WORKING PERSON around here, around this wild-west, cowboy-hat-beard, wild, wild-west.

She was wrong all along, she WRONGED me all along, it still boggles my mind: why/ how did she have to be so mean to .. the hardest working girl. I mean, really, I can see how she DISTORTED who I was, who I am, COMPLETELY! I am not, not who she kept saying that I was. And she was wrong out of CRUELTY: she hated me and she wanted to inflict pain on me.

It’s a lifetime process to really UNDERSTAND that your OWN MOTHER was/ is your ENEMY. HOW CAN IT POSSIBLY BE TRUE???

I can’t believe it, still, it’s bamboozling my mind! Oh.. I just need to fully confront the difficult, horrible, bamboozling reality that my mother, MY MOTHER, was/is my Enemy. It is (I have no word) difficult to take in. I mean: my own mother wanted me to be in pain. My OWN MOTHER whose love I needed more than anything, her motivation was to see me hurt.

It’s just so difficult to take in, it’s just that one expects one’s mother to be on one’s side, and definitely not against… Okay, it’s Tues late night here. Good night/ good morning, 1-3 readers, thank you for being here with me, reading.

Let us be guided by the Truth, however difficult it is to take in and absorb.

anita

Thank you, Helcat!

anita