Cry Baby, Cry Mummy

Okay right now I really wish I had a “normal” mum to speak to. I wish I could pour out all my feelings and cry big snotty tears and let her cuddle me and help me to pick myself back up again because right now, I need that so much. 

Unfortunately I can’t trust my mum with any of these feelings because as crazy and unbelievable as it might sound to some, she would genuinely get a kick from my feelings of failure – particularly where parenting is concerned. 

I’ve had this low-level thought for a while now that my baby doesn’t “like” me. I guess the truth is that I feel like he doesn’t love me. I’ve never said the words out loud before because I know they make me sound really childish and pathetic, but that’s the only way I can explain the feeling I have. 

It’s been there in the background for months now, but as he is getting older and more independent, as his connections and attachments evidently grow with everyone around us, it’s tapping into the fear and worry that it’s not the same with me. 

I am his mummy, I’m meant to be the one he comes to for safety and for cuddles but he doesn’t seem to want to. His dad is the one he goes to for all of those things. He lights up when daddy comes into the room. He is happier with daddy. If I try to kiss him or cuddle him, he will push me away or turn his head or move away from me – yet he clambers all over his dad and cuddles and kisses him regularly. 

I try so, so hard to make him happy every day. I try so hard to make him feel cherished, treasured, loved and happy. I try to take him to nice places, play games with him, read books to him, take him for walks, to the swing, in the garden, to see the fish at the aquarium…. I buy him nice toys and new clothes and I plan his dinners and make sure we always have clean bedding and a tidy house and that bath time is fun. Yet, I still feel this kind of indifference from him towards me. 

This morning I woke before he did. I got up, had a wee, made a cup of tea, prepared his milk and waited for him to wake. I was in a good mood, I had luckily had a good amount of sleep and aside from my cold, I was ready for a good day.  He woke at a really nice time and I headed in. Often he is miserable when I get him up. His Dad even jokes that he prefers him getting him up…. (Not a joke I fear). 

He was fine, in a good mood. Not overjoyed to see me, but not miserable so that was good. Anyway, within a couple of hours something went wrong. I laid him down to change his pooey nappy and he screamed and was trying to twist away, smudging poo everywhere. He started to cry and scream and within seconds I was furious. I shouted at him to stay still, tried to hold him down but he twisted away and as I shouted again, he cried louder and then proceeded to wee all over my leg, the changing mat, himself…. 

I felt like I completely lost control. I did not know how to get back in control and my emotions were everywhere. I felt like I could have killed someone I was so angry. Clearly that anger is hugely disproportionate to the situation at hand… but this is all part of the bigger picture you see. I feel like he doesn’t like/ love me and therefore I feel like a total failure of a mum. I can’t even get his nappy changed. He doesn’t want to be anywhere near me. He rushed off to his dad (of course) which naturally just added fuel to the fire. 

I sat in his room and balled my eyes out. I am actually still crying now and it’s been about an hour. I’m writing this out because I have nobody to say it to who can help me with it all so maybe this will release some of the feelings. 

Now I’m trying very hard to think rationally, to think outside of the emotions I’m feeling and I’m asking myself what my therapist would say if I were to tell her all of this. I am pretty sure she would say that it’s got something to do with my own mother and that perhaps something is being triggered or replayed – I wonder if this is how my own mother felt about me. Did she feel like I didn’t like/love/need her? Is that why she went the way she did towards me? Or am i feeling like my baby doesn’t love me in the same way I felt my mother didn’t love me as a baby?  

I don’t know. 

All I do know is that ouch, it bloody hurts so much. 

I’ve wanted to be a mummy forever. I wanted a baby so badly. He really is a dream come true. I love him so, so much and I want to kiss him and cuddle him and all of those things, but right now all I am feeling is like a resistance from him and the feeling that I’m a shit mum, one who gets too stressed and moody and too angry. I also know I am getting stressed and moody and angry because I feel like I’m failing so it’s all a bit of a viscous circle. 

I know babies cry. Babies sometimes have moods or get frustrated or don’t want their nappy changed, obviously I’m not expecting him to be perfectly behaved every second of every day. It just feels like when he’s crying or angry or winging it’s because of me. Because he doesn’t want me, because I am not able to help him. It’s me who is making me angry, not him. 

I gave my job up to be a stay at home mum which was a dream come true. Now because of money I’m probably going to have to go back to work part time. Leaving him makes my heart cry, but days like this make me feel he would be happier away from me anyway and that’s painful too. If I go back to work then our attachment might get worse! That’s the dream over for good then. 

I don’t know any other mums who feel like I do. I look around and all my friends’ babies dote on their mummy’s. If I told any of them how I felt I think they would think I was crazy and obviously it’s extremely embarrassing to share these feelings with anyone. 

Gilmore Girls

Last night as the evening wore on I felt myself feeling more and more unsettled. I felt a bit down. I had no idea why because all I had done was lay on the sofa watching Gilmore Girls (back to back episodes for about 4 hours!).

Then me and my husband got into a silly bicker over the difference in wages between footballers and doctors and nurses and I felt so much anger over the topic – part of it justified, part of it irrational I think.

I got into bed feeling wound up and within seconds, a few tears started to drip down my face. I tried to hurriedly wipe them away, but as quickly as I wiped them, more would appear. My husband got into bed and just feeling his presence there made me feel even worse. It is really hard to explain what I mean by that, but I wanted to curl up into him and cry it all out and at the same time, I was desperately trying not to show him I was having these feelings because I didn’t understand them AND was kinda blaming them on him and the football player wage thing…

But the tears took over and I burst into tears. My husband came over to cuddle me and was asking me what was wrong. He asked was it just the footballer thing? I said no. I said I wasn’t sure. He let me cry it out for a while and then when he thought I was better (I wasn’t inside) he kindly laughed and said “what was that about?” and I just said I didn’t know. And I didn’t really, but I knew it was quite deep pain. It was familiar pain and pain that I’ve not felt for such a long time. 

Then, for the second or third night in a row, I dreamt on and off all night and my mother was in the dreams. I woke up several times and I woke up irritable. When I finally had to get up for work this morning, I had a headache and within ten minutes of being up, was sick. Being sick during my pregnancy has stopped now but in the early days was HORRIFIC. I’m 24 weeks this Saturday so being sick now is very rare. I thought it was odd. 

But then I noticed that the bloody Gilmore Girls soundtrack was playing round and round in my head on a loop. I remembered that at one point last night as I was really listening to (and singing) the words, I felt a bit emotional. Then it started to click into place. The Gilmore Girls for anyone who doesn’t know, is an American series based on a mother and daughter who are very close and get on very well. The lyrics to the soundtrack basically say “if you need me to be with you, I will follow you anywhere”. Gulp. Also in the episodes I was watching last night there is a lot of attention on the fact that the mother does not and has never got on well with her own mother and there was a scene where the grandmother finally realises how little she knows her (now adult) daughter. She says “She is right. I don’t know her at all”. I nearly cried at that point (still didn’t entirely click though).

So now I had figured out that the sadness, the headache, the tears, the sickness even (probably) was to do with the mother/daughter thing… the feelings possibly stirred up from watching too much Gilmore Girls, the song words… and the dreams but also, probably from the fact I am a mother in the making now. I have a baby in my womb who is moving about in there and who’s arrival I am counting down on the daily. I did wonder when/if this was going to happen. 

Today I feel rubbish. I still have that headache but since I made this connection, it has eased a little. My sister was texting me earlier and I told her some of the above. I told her that these dreams about mum have made me wake up feeling crappy and she said she totally knew what I meant. She even said now that I am growing a baby it is probably hard for me to realise all the ways our mum didn’t look after us and didn’t put us first or protect us or love us properly. I told her that I felt like I could howl crying or smash up the house. She totally got it. 

I do worry though. I already love this baby so bloody much. What is going to happen when the baby is here and I feel that love that everyone talks about and then its REALLY put into perspective… that worries me.

I don’t want my mother ruining any of my experiences with this baby and in all honesty, over all the years of therapy and journaling and blogging and dreams and crying and everything else, I feel like I’ve given it (her) enough of my energy and enough of my tears. I don’t feel sadness in the way of wanting or wishing my mum was different – I haven’t felt that way for a very long time. I would say I reached acceptance over it all quite a while back now actually, so it isn’t that… its just all a bit stirred up all of a sudden.

These days I rarely speak to my mother and I very, very rarely see her. When the baby comes I highly doubt she will see it much. I feel quite protective over that. I used to worry that it would be difficult to navigate that. How do you tell your own mother she can’t see her grandchild? But now we have so little to do with one another that actually, I can’t see it being any kind of issue. She still doesn’t speak to my husband, I still don’t speak to hers, we still do not visit each other’s houses etc – so really, how would it work anyway? So I don’t worry about that. I only worry that the love for this baby is going to make me feel things at an even deeper level than I have already done and that is a bit scary.

Today: 27 September

Last night I had a dream that I was at my nan’s house early in the morning (I think I had stayed there and had not long been awake) when the doorbell went. In my gut I knew I wasn’t going to like who was at the door and I was right, it was my mother. As soon as I heard her voice I felt dread. She walked in and looked at me and I didn’t attempt to look happy to see her. I was not at all happy that she was there and felt as though she had planned this on purpose because she knew it was the only way for her to see me. I also knew that my time with my nan was now ruined. I don’t remember how old I was, but I think I was young because I felt like I had no control over this situation.

It happens to be my mother’s birthday today so I guess it’s no massive surprise that I dreamt of her last night but also I think there’s more to it because the house I am moving to soon is very near to my grandparents’ house and I was telling T the other day that I was a bit anxious that this would mean I would have to see my mother and her husband driving past my new house regularly on their way to my grandparents’, or that I would be reversing out of my drive and be let out by someone, only to find out its them. I told her it probably sounded silly but that I worry about that kind of thing because I don’t even want to SEE them when I don’t intend to (or him ever). T also pointed out that there would be a chance that I would be at my grandparents’ house and they turn up whilst I am there. She told me that if that happened I would be okay and I could simply say “hello” and then leave. Likewise she said if I was in the car I could simply put my hand up to acknowledge then or even wave (not enthusiastically obvs) and then drive off. I suppose it’s no real wonder I had that dream, that is a real-life anxiety at the moment. 

Today 3 years ago I passed my driving test (later in life than most people) and annoyingly that brings mixed emotions too. I did not book my driving test on my mother’s birthday on purpose, it was the date my instructor had offered and so I accepted. At the time I rarely saw my mother and I hadn’t told her that my test was booked for fear of failing and just to avoid the pressure I suppose. My mother had spent years and years telling me that I would never drive and that I would not be “a natural driver” like her and my sister. Her comments annoyingly put me off even trying for many years until I started to separate from her and book my secret lessons and test in. 3 years ago today, on her birthday, I took my first driving test and I passed. I passed with only 3 minors. I was so shocked that I had done it because I genuinely did not think I would have a chance. 

After I told my husband who was over the moon for me and who had been a huge source of encouragement, I told my mother. Initially she shrieked and seemed really happy for me but when I visited her later that evening for her birthday she said the following: “They probably passed you because you work in the City and wouldn’t actually drive that often”. 

That comment stung SO bad. It played on my mind for ages and ages. In fact, even today, 3 years later that comment hurts. That is my mother all over, she can put a dampener on the happiest of events or days. She always knew how to make me doubt myself or feel insecure. It was always the same. 

Today, 3 years since that day I am sitting at work and thinking how proud I still am of that day and to be honest how I still can’t believe I did it. I also thought that since that day, I have got married and in the next week or two, I will be completing on my house purchase with my husband. In some ways I can see that I have done well and achieved quite a lot since I distanced myself from my mother, though I know that sounds big-headed and I hate big-headedness.. but it does also make me a little bit sad that I’ve had to celebrate these huge events without a supportive and proud mother standing at the side-lines. I imagine people who have supportive mothers don’t even really recognise or register how nice that is (and rightly so, it should be something you take for granted), but for me today that feels a bit rubbish. 

My mother is currently on a two week holiday abroad and as harsh as it may sound, I am very glad for that. I am glad I don’t have to see her and I am glad that I haven’t had to decline another invitation from her which we both know I will not attend but that leaves me feel guilty regardless of knowing my reasons are valid. I keep hoping that my house does finally complete before she is home but I don’t really know why, because even if she were home from her holiday it isn’t like she would be offering to help me or popping over with sandwiches!! She never has. It just feels safer somehow if she is further away… somehow it feels like something could be ruined and that I would feel more anxious if she were around. Sounds mean doesn’t it? 

Just to put the icing on the cake, it happens to be my mother-in-law’s birthday on Sunday and we are going out for lunch to celebrate. We have a card, present and will sort a cake out etc. My mother-in-law is a kind lady and she deserves to have some fuss made out of her just like she does on Mothering Sunday, but it is a reminder of how different things could have been for me and my mother. 

One nice feeling at the moment though (to counteract the above!!) is that despite the sadness that occasionally creeps into my dream world or my conscious thoughts, the heart-breaking, life-altering pain has gone. Acceptance is well and truly here. The situation is sad but it is what it is and it is not and has never been, my fault. I no longer spend days occupied by thoughts of her or reading everything there is to read on Google about narcissists or narcissistic mothers. I don’t watch countless videos on YouTube about dysfunctional families or toxic parents etc. I know I am literally thinking and writing about her now, but on the whole she doesn’t take up much space anymore and that is a real relief. 

I feel pretty at peace with the fact we have very low contact and I do not feel burning anger over the situation. I don’t daydream about it being “fixed” like I used to. I don’t hope to hear from her either. I don’t feel that my low contact with her is some kind of punishment or revenge like it once was, I just feel safer with the distance between us. 

Obviously that’s not to say that I’ll never have moments of weakness again or never cry at how sad it is or at the “could have been’s”, but they are less and less frequent these days and even when they come, I do not act on them OR even want to act on them which shows a lot of growth and strength I think. 

Annoyingly I now feel like I am starting a similar process with my sister and honestly the bad thing about having “been there before” is knowing how painful it is and what a long, long process it is too. I suppose there having done it before at least allows me to have hope that it does get better – because it has done once before and at times, I never believed it could. 

I have been lucky enough to have not lost many close relatives in my life so far but I wonder if the feeling is similar. After the stages of grief and anger and denial and bargaining have been tired out, you reach a level of acceptance and understanding. It doesn’t mean that you are glad that person has gone (emotionally or figuratively in my case), but you are able to move on with your life in a way that isn’t so debilitating as it once was. Just a thought. 

I’ve been starting to think about how getting to this place re my mother is a sign that therapy really has worked – and in so many ways. The processing of the blocked grief, fear and anger but also of the kind of re-parenting I’ve had from T. I do notice how steady I feel these days and how much more secure I feel in relation to my relationships. T has just returned this week from a two-week break and in all honesty as much as I was looking forward to seeing her, I felt fine. I didn’t feel like I was desperate to see her or feel like I was counting down the days. I could have easily done another week. It felt this time more of a wish to see her because I care for her and less of an urgent need to see her to help me if that makes sense. That is also a nice feeling and one that makes me feel a little stronger about my sense of self. It has taken 5 entire years though and that feels like a lifetime! 5 YEARS of therapy….wow.

Pondering the above has made me feel that I don’t think I am going to need to continue having two sessions for much longer. I know that T has said before that even if I don’tneed two sessions a week, that I should let myself have them just to enjoy the holding and the conversations and all the lovely good stuff that therapy brings. I am also conscious that I am only just back after a break and as much as I currently feel this is a genuine feeling, perhaps this is my subconscious kicking out or something. Who knows, stranger things have happened and this does tend to be a similar theme when breaks are around so I am not intending to do anything about this just now… I am going to just sit and wait for a while. Hold still as T would say and “sit with it” for a while to see what comes up. I’m also aware that T would say I am pre-occupied with my house at the moment and so probably not properly “in it”. We shall see…. Obviously seeing T twice a week is not a chore or anything, it is nice but also there’s a part of me that would like to reach a stage where I am less reliant on her and not spending £320 a month on therapy LOL. T would literally hate it if she read that last sentence.. it would doubtless start a whole conversation about my health and wellbeing being more important than money etc which of course, it is. But let’s be honest, nobody wants to have to have therapy forever – especially twice a week. Yesterday me and T spent about 45 minutes discussing keeping chickens, guinea pigs, domestic hedgehogs and how she has a dog-pram (this still makes me crack-up!). The point being, whilst potentially therapeutic… not really actually therapy.. but I had nothing pressing to talk about. As ever, I totally believe that I still need to be seeing her once a week so I don’t think I am ready to be without her in the world. My dependency just feels.. lighter than it once did. Sometimes I look back on old blogs about my teddy bear (Frank) and about being jealous about her daughters or her talking about her mother or something else and I can’t even believe that was me!! It’s so weird.

Anyway, I am going to the gym to try and burn a few calories and stop writing every thought that comes into my head!

Have nice weekends everyone. X

The way it is

I have to admit that my mind has been entirely consumed by all things relating to fertility and my potential thyroid/autoimmune disease lately and so my worries regarding my mum took a back seat, in fact I would go as far as to say that she wasn’t even in the car! Pretty understandable I think and actually, I’m glad. Thank god she isn’t overshadowing everything like she once would have. I think it probably also shows that my anxiety is improving because I’ve managed to compartmentalise and not try to worry about absolutely everything all at once.

Anyway I was bored at work today as my boss is on holiday and I flicked onto a forum that I am on and where I had written a post after seeing her last Sunday and found a new reply. I read the reply and agreed with everything the person had said which was basically that I was perfectly entitled to not see my mother at her house without my husband if I didn’t want to. She actually used the words “The Queen Is Displeased” which I felt hit the nail on the head. She said that my mother won’t ever be 100% happy unless everything is ok her terms and that isn’t a healthy and normal relationship. Also absolutely true.

It was only really as I read this reply and thought about my opinion/thoughts on it that I realised that this had taken a back seat. I think that when I have just seen her I have this sense of urgent panic about me – when I saw her a week ago today, it felt like I needed to prepare myself ASAP. A week on, clearly the urgency has gone. It sounds bad I know but it’s like the danger has subsided… she’s gone back to her place and I’m back in my place and it feels like the moment she would have said something has passed – for now – this time.

Does that make any sense?

Also it would be true to say that I’m incredibly impatient and impulsive and I’m often in a bit of a rush. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe that feeling is all in my head.

Maybe, but I’m not convinced.

Believe me when I say, my mum-dar is incredibly in tune after years of trying to predict her moods and stay safe – she was ANGRY!! She was well and truly pissed at me. She is fed up of having to come out of her house to see me. She’s pissed off that I won’t just “go back to normal”. Her patience with me is wearing VERY thin. Very.

And I’ve said this before I know, but the mum that I met at the garden centre 2 months ago (the one that seemed caring and gentle and cried when I left as she sobbed she loved and missed me) – where was that mum?

That mum (garden centre mum), she would have been pleased with ANY contact from me. A text even! Genuinely I felt that. But last Monday’s mum, she wasn’t happy with anything at all. I mean she did come I suppose, and she didn’t have to… but I could sense she didn’t want to be there.

I’m not sure how she can change so much, in a relatively short space of time. I suspect my (genuinely accidental) mention of going to my Dad’s bbq probably didn’t help. She’s always found my Dad a threat. She would never in a million years eveerrrrr admit that – but I see that now. She’s always been desperate that I need/love her more. Parent wars.

Anyway, back to the point – I thought to myself earlier that I really do need to try to get it straight in my own head my reasons why I won’t go to her house or see her husband. I need to get it straight in my head for my own sake – not for her’s. I will feel more relaxed and calm and at peace if I know what I’ll say to her. It means that when the time comes (which it will), I won’t go into a total meltdown, I’ll just be able to tell her my reasons.

And then I realise that I struggle to articulate my reasons to anyone and I mean anyone, I can’t tell my husband and I can’t even tell myself!

The best I could come up with was “I’ve got used to not going/doing those things and I don’t miss it/them”.

Or…

“I don’t know why really. I can’t explain it. I just don’t want to go on my own”.

I also said to my husband that it was simply because I didn’t want to have to pretend I had forgiven/liked my stepdad but my husband actually said “is it that though, or is that just an excuse?”.

Is that just an excuse?

I want to say no, it’s not… but yeah it could be I suppose.

T says I am just better at protecting myself and I’ve learnt not to be around people or in places that don’t make me feel good. That I’ve learnt to look after myself.

The thing that shocks me about all of this is that I have a real, genuine sense of being happy with things the way they are. That’s actually a huge statement for me. It seems like nothing typed onto the page amongst all the other written diarrhoea, but it’s actually massive.

I am happy with things the way they are.

I don’t want them to change.

I mean, 😮… when did that happen???

Anyone that’s read my blog for a while will probably know I’ve gone through moments/days/times where I’ve felt like I might die from the heartache of missing my mum. Of needing and wanting my mum. Of the void. Of the sadness, the guilt and I’m not even talking about historic pain – the most recent was only 8 weeks ago (post garden centre mum).

How has this happened? Is this real? Will it stay?

I have a real, genuine (sorry can’t think of any other way to describe this) feeling that even in those moments now, those moments when I want to be my mum’s little girl, I can still hold on to the knowledge/feeling somewhere in me that it’s not real or it won’t last – that basically, I’ll regret it if I do anything drastic.

T clearly knows that too, that’s why she always tries so hard to get me to “just sit with it”. She knows the feeling will pass and that I’ll be left regretting everything. Though I reckon in those times I put up a pretty decent argument 🤣 in fact I’ll go as far as to say that sometimes I think I convince MYSELF !!!

I never, never, ever thought I would feel like this and don’t worry, I’m not being cocky or naive here – I absolutely accept that I’ll probably relapse again (more than once) and feel like that heartbreak, agony, void-going-to-kill-me pain isn’t worth it and I’ll want to “fix” everything. And then I won’t again.

I wonder whether this is similar to how someone feels when they have given up alcohol or drugs after a serious addiction. Do they sometimes feel like they can clearly see and feel all the many good things that have come their way since they quit their vice – but then (less and less often) will they relapse? Or nearly relapse?? Genuine question – I don’t know.

I don’t hate my mum. I don’t even feel angry with her. I just feel …. that what we have these days is probably enough for me. That’s sad in a way, but it’s also soooooooooo much less painful than it used to me when I was constantly wishing for more.

therapy in the park & inner calm

I want to write whilst I have a moment, living with 8 people in the in-laws house without a bedroom doesn’t allow for a lot of time to sit and contemplate one’s inner-thoughts yet alone allow for time to actually write them down! So whilst I am at work on this lovely Friday afternoon without much work to do, I thought I would grab the opportunity. 

I spoke to T on the phone yesterday as is my current routine since the move. To be honest I wasn’t really looking forward to it because I find it difficult to think of enough to talk about on the phone. I don’t really know why that is because I certainly don’t have that issue when there with her face-to-face, but there we go! Anyway, since the move to the in-laws I drive myself to a local park to speak to T where I can be alone and not overheard and me and my husband have taken to calling this TITP – Therapy In The Park, which has kinda stuck and I quite like it ha ha.

So yesterday’s TITP was way better than I had imagined it would be. I’m not entirely sure why, but as I settled down to speak to her, I realised that I felt a real sense of happiness and calm (which is VERY surprising considering everything). During our hour-long phone conversation, I felt light-hearted, fun, happy and just light… we laughed quite a lot and I felt totally and utterly unfiltered like I wasn’t thinking at all about the words forming in my head before they fell out of my lips – I just said stuff and laughed and it was just great. Before I knew it the phone session was over and I was fine with that in the sense that I had nothing pressing to talk about and I felt… whatever it is you feel after a good therapy session.. perhaps contained? – anyway we hung up and I felt myself literally smiling (probably made me look like a freak in public on her own grinning) and I went for a stroll around the park and took some photos and sent one to T showing her the view and telling her that I could get used to TITP. She sent me a quick message back and I smiled and put my phone away. 

Now nothing about that sounds particularly interesting I know, but the feeling I got was new… and if not new, then not common enough to feel “normal” or be taken for granted. It was nice. Really nice. I would quite like to tell her this but I wouldn’t have a clue how to explain it and I don’t want to analyse it or over-think/over-talk it and ruin it, so I am just writing it here to note it down for myself really. 

Regarding my mother..

I wanted to write another update about where I am with things regarding my mother after the other week’s complete meltdown. I still can’t believe how much that got to me, how much it shook me and how utterly distressed and desperate I felt.  

I feel so much better now. So, so, so much better.  

I seem to have found a bit of a middle-ground though and I’ve not gone straight back to how I was before the meltdown occurred in that me and my mother have exchanged more messages in the last few week than we had for about a year(!) but I am finding them nice, but not drastically important, and I’ve lost that awful, sudden need to see her which feels safer. At the same time her messages aren’t making or breaking my days and I am not consumed by the content or anything… it’s hard to explain. Yesterday we exchanged some messages about random things – she sent me photos of her new lounge and her garden and spoke about some events she has coming up etc and I spoke about how I am excited for a wedding next week and mine and Hubby’s apt at the fertility clinic etc. I was slightly nervous that she might ask me when I was coming to stay with her, but she didn’t and so I didn’t need to worry about what to say and how to say it which was a relief. 

I was telling a friend about how I felt the other week and about how upset I was in my session and she said to me “Well I have to admit that if one of my kids didn’t speak to me or want to see me, I would be very upset too” (her kids are also adults) and I found myself saying back to her “Yes but the difference is that if one of your kids didn’t want to see you and you had nothing to do with them or their wife, you would be sitting around trying to figure out what had gone wrong/what you had done and how you could make it better wouldn’t you?” – she agreed. I then said “the difference is, my mum has had years to do that but all she seems to come up with is that she’s never done anything wrong and that it is just all down to my husband and how he has manipulated me and poisoned me against her”. 

The words came out of my mouth and it was like I *heard* them and surprised myself at my own understanding (weird I know). I realised as I said it that it was absolutely true. I knew it before and I know it now, but I didn’t *feel* it the other week. The other week when I was completely and utterly drowning in the child part of me’s hopes and dreams and wishful thinking, none of that felt remotely important. I was willing to turn a blind eye to everything – all of it – in exchange for the love of my mother. I was utterly desperate to be looked after and nurtured and protected et. It felt bigger than everything. It felt HUGE. The logic had detached from the feelings and I couldn’t hold both at the same time.  

Now, at the moment I find myself in this weird no-man’s land really. I question if I am a little numb? (I am not sure). The way I feel is that I can see/feel/remember all the bad stuff yet feel no anger about it and also I can understand the wants, needs and wishes of the child but nowhere near enough to want to actually try and get them. I have no intention of going to stay at her house or of turning up at her door crying or begging her for the chance for us to start again or any of that dramatic, movie-type stuff that I was imagining. I just feel…. nothing really… just like I am here and I can see both sides of it equally but without being affected by either. 

I am not sure if that is a good sign of having balanced myself back out (potentially more so than before!) or whether I am actually numb because the pain of the other week was too much. Who knows? It sure feels better this way though. I feel calm inside and I am not caught up in the stress and anxiety of being angry with her, being hurt by her lack of contact or dreading seeing her or whatever.. I just feel like we can have a few messages about normal stuff which is genuinely fine… but I am not being guilt-tripped or attacked and I am not dying for more or using her messages to boost me up….. it just is what it is and it is actually fine. For now at least.

What happened rocked me in a massive, massive way. I am still shocked by the hugeness of the pain I felt but I am so, so glad that it has passed and that I am okay. I am wondering whether that is likely to happen again? Is it part of the process or was it me falling off the wagon so to speak? Has it helped in some weird way? Who knows!

Oh and to end, this made me laugh…. My mother said yesterday that she had started to read a book my sister recommended. She told me the name of it and so I downloaded it at the park yesterday and I’ve been listening to it since. The book is hilariously funny and extremely crude and rude and shocking in content, BUT that didn’t surprise me. What surprised me is this….. the girl who is narrating the story in first person/diary-entry style, is a young girl. This girl is having therapy…………. This girl is having therapy………………HA. My mother and my sister LOVED this book about a girl in therapy – it makes you die doesn’t it? The two people most adverse to anyone having therapy. Hilarious. Anyway, I am yet to see if the therapist is painted as some manipulating, evil, money-grabber (I sincerely hope not), but we shall see. It is interesting to me because as neither of them have a clue what therapy consists of and as they both clearly have their own fantasies (as T would say) – this book may be changing their opinion.. or confirming them!!

 

 

The feels

I’ve wanted to write about the feelings I’ve been having regarding my mother over the last week or two but I’ve not really known how to explain the way I’ve been feeling or what I’ve been thinking and then on top of that, I’ve moved out of my house and into my in-laws and so I really don’t have much time (or space!) to be able to do so.

The problem with this is however, that I now feel a bit stressed and a bit …Ahhhh where it’s all inside and needs to be written out a little.

It’s also hard to write about feelings that change so quickly. Last Sunday I was crying and feeling SO much sadness and grief and was very much in my child state – last Tuesday’s session was the same but today as I say, being in someone else’s house, surrounded by lots of people and noise and mess… the feelings aren’t really “here” and so it all feels a little disjointed.

Basically last Sunday as I say I was feeling like a vulnerable child. The upcoming move was stressing me out and I had seen my mother a week previous which is when she cried and told me how much she missed me and wished she could see me more. I posted about that at the time so there’s a separate post for details. Her tears seem to have really made an impact on me, it was very hard for me seeing her cry. Seeing her tears and seeing her vulnerable possibly for the first time ever was horrible. Seeing her upset made me feel hopeful I think. I think it really ignited something in me and as I was feeling vulnerable and stressed about the move, it all got too much and by Sunday last week, I was crying and feeling like I really needed my mum.

When I went to my session on Tuesday I was so desperate to tell T all about it but I was also anxious and I was nervous that she would make comments about how my mother was playing games or wasn’t genuine and that I would feel angry or defensive etc. What actually happened is that I told T I had “apparently lost my mind and gone totally crazy” and I told her what had happened and how I felt.

T was kind, she seemed understanding and empathetic but she did make it clear that I was feeling vulnerable and child-like and that I really needed to try not to react and to try to just “stay still” and not do anything at the moment. In that session I cried. I really, really cried. I sobbed into my hands in a way that I’ve not for a very long time in therapy. I felt exhausted and I felt completely lost. I said things along the lines of “it doesn’t feel natural to have to to stay away from your mum” and I said that I hated myself for forgetting everything I had learnt but that the knowledge and facts felt so far removed from my feelings.

T said that she hoped I would take some comfort just from having spoken out the feelings and sharing them with T – from crying even. I thought to myself that was very unlikely. It was a really weird and shit feeling actually….. I was effectively being told to NOT do the thing I felt I wanted and needed to do in order to feel better. It felt unfair and it felt strange and cruel. I’m a way I guess it felt like punishment or something.

The next day unfortunately was moving day and so I didn’t have any time to process the feelings and I was stressed and overwhelmed.

By Thursday’s session I wasn’t really sure what I was thinking or feeling so when T asked me “where I was” with it all, I didn’t know. I said I wasn’t sure and that I guess I felt a bit numb to it all. I had kind of blocked it out. I told T that my mum had text me on move day and again the day after (that day) to ask how it went. T asked how that felt and I said it was weird really because it was more contact/effort than she had made for such a long time BUT it felt a little bit like she was doing it in order to get some sort of pay-off (mainly me going to her house to stay one evening)…..

I don’t know if this makes any sense to anyone else, it’s hard to explain but luckily T seemed to understand what I was saying.

Anyway Friday was my wedding anniversary and my husband and I went away for a night which was very much needed and was lovely. Today is strange as we are living at his parents’ house and his sister is here with her 3 kids and we don’t have a bedroom or anything and it’s hard today…. I don’t know what to do with myself and I’m feeling down about the baby stuff I posted about yesterday and ruminating about being here and missing my own house as well as the above…. I’m feeling just a bit stuck and frustrated and me and my husband have been bickering because of it which is such a shame after such a wonderful couple of days away. Bit of a crash landing.

I’m trying not to think about my mum too much because I am scared I’ll dive bomb back into those horribly painful feelings of last week. The neediness and grief like feelings – they were so horrible, honestly I didn’t know what to do with myself. T said it may feel like life an death and that’s so true. I felt like I could die if I didn’t go to her. Apparently that’s attachment and that’s what keeps babies bonded and attached to their parents/caregiver – she explained that is how children can desperately want to stay with their parent even if they are abused by them. We are programmed to attach to them for our survival and so I guess that goes some way to explaining why I felt as bad as I did.

I know that being realistic, going to my mum’s would mean pretending everything was fine and sweeping everything that has happened the last few years under the rug and I don’t want to do that. The alternative would be to hash it out and I really can’t even stomach the thought of that. My mum still doesn’t think she’s ever done anything wrong so where would that conversation end?

It feels like a waste. She’s there – I’m here. She seems to want a relationship and obviously so do I…. but it just isn’t that simple.

One thing I have just remembered is that when I was crying on Tuesday, T said “what do you hope to achieve?” (about me going to my mum’s house). I thought for a second and laughed and cried at the same time as I said I had no idea. T said the feelings had taken over and that I needed to try to bring the thinking/logic back a little to keep me safe.

So that’s that really….. I still feel a bit numb about it all. I’m worried that she will text me and ask me when I’m going because I’m still caught between half wanting to go and half knowing it’s not a good idea. I don’t want to hurt her and I know she’s got her hopes up. I also haven’t told my husband any of this…. he doesn’t have a clue how I’ve been feeling or about what I’ve said to my mum or about how badly I cried at T’s last week…..

I hate that any of this is real you know. I know that sounds like a stupid thing to say and maybe it sounds like a poor me but I do hate it. I wish so badly that it could be different.

What My Mother And I Don’t Talk About: Rug-Sweeping by Twinkletoes

I have recently started listening to the audiobook of “What My Mother And I Don’t Talk About: Fifteen Writers Break The Silence”.  I haven’t got very far yet but the few stories I have listened to are extremely moving.  Some of these stories are about things that caused a complete breakdown between mother and (adult) child and some are about the wonderful close bond between them.

It got me thinking, like most things I see or read about the relationship between mother and adult children.  I could relate to a lot of things in one of the stories in particular and so the last few days I’ve been thinking.  What would my “essay” say in this book?  What would my story be about me and my mother?  What “theme” would I go with?  What particular element of “our story” would I focus on?  I mean, for everyone who’s essay appears in this book, they have had to focus in on one element haven’t they.  In every family and every relationship there are many, many things which either make or break it – not just one thing.

Would I focus on how I felt as a young child with a mother who was so disinterested and neglectful?  Or would I focus on her narcissism and enmeshment of me as an 18 plus year old?  Perhaps I would focus on her reaction to finding out I had been sexually abused by one of her boyfriends?

The thing is, SO many things have led to where we are now.  Where are we now? That is what I ask myself, where are we now?  I don’t really know the answer to that either.  Trying not to say where I am, with it all but where WE are is difficult and one of the reasons it is so difficult is, as the book says, we don’t talk about it!!

My mother’s speciality is to sweep things under the rug.  Anything uncomfortable, anything that is in any way difficult or might result in feeling anything is a no-go area.  I never even realised this until a few years into therapy.  She is a rug-sweeper and so she does not want to talk about anything.

One of the writers in this book says something similar about her mother and said that her family were so good at sweeping everything under the rug… until they wasn’t and they fell over it and I can relate to that in so many ways.

Somehow (probably due to all the therapy) I don’t like doing this and I want, need even, to talk about things.  If I look back to about 2 years ago I was still seeing my mother and drinking with her (bad idea) despite also really realising and feeling(!) a lot in therapy to do with her and my childhood and I was trying desperately to hold both at the same time.  A recipe for disaster.

I admit that I went through a phase of going to her house and trying to prove to someone – possibly myself – that I was above it all.  Above her perhaps.  That somehow I could learn all of the things I was learning about all of the ways she hurt me and still sit and drink with her.  I found myself starting to question things she said, starting to correct her or ask her to repeat herself or to answer a question she was clearly avoiding.  It was like I could suddenly see some of the dysfunction and I wasn’t going to let her get away with it anymore.  Looking back, I was being hugely passive aggressive.  I sat there smiling sweetly but I was ready for a fight. I was almost secretly willing her to say something abusive, something nasty, just so I could respond in a way I had never responded before. Just so I could scream in her face that I wasn’t going to take it anymore. That I was DONE.

At the time, I told myself I was being mature by being able to handle her in a different way. I didn’t realise how angry I was.  I think I was trying to show myself, my husband and my therapist that I was strong now.  Perhaps I was kidding myself because deep down I knew that the alternative was to not see her or to continue being treated badly.  I didn’t want either of those things.  Maybe this was a bit of the bargaining phase at play.

Anyway one day I got my chance and I took it.  An argument erupted which ended horribly.  She said some unforgivable things to me that night which I will never be able to forget.  One of them being that I was mentally unstable and needed to be sectioned.  I called her “an evil bitch”.  Then she phoned her husband who was upstairs asleep and he came downstairs ready to fight me, got all up in my face and started to shout and swear at me and then kicked me out of their house.

As I left their house I was shaking like a leaf.  I was crying uncontrollably in fits and starts. I felt so empowered and yet so devastated in equal measure.  What had I done? What had I said?  But also, I felt so proud of myself.  I had finally spoken a lifetime of pain.  I had stood up to her in a way that neither of us thought I ever could.  It was a night that I’m sure neither of us will ever forget.

In my mother’s true form I didn’t hear anything from her for about a week.  Then she sent a text to say she was “so upset” and wanted us to make it up.  The problem is that my mother’s idea of “making up” or “sorting things out” is for me to apologise TO HER, or for us to pretend nothing ever happened and that nothing was ever said.  We do not TALK about it.

I refused to go along with this for the first time in my life and that resulted in 6 months of no contact.  In those 6 months she sent 2 or 3 text messages, 2 of them being sent on Christmas Day and New Year’s Eve.  Her messages said that she loved and missed me.  Her messages made me feel awful.  They tapped into the child in me who desperately missed her mother and wished her mother did love and miss her.  But I held firm because I just couldn’t do any more of this rug-sweeping.  I mean, I had told her that I grew up feeling completely unloved; a burden (amongst many other things) – those were not things I could just put back in a box and lock up forever more.  They were out now.  I had said them out loud.

A year ago I made contact with her in order for her to attend my wedding.  That took a LOT of debating.  For all the reasons I wanted her there; I didn’t.  I worried what it would mean for us going forwards? Would it be seen as yet more rug-sweeping?  At the same time I felt too guilty to exclude her from the biggest day of my life and I worried I would live to regret it and so she came to my wedding.

Whether I regret inviting her or not I can’t really decide.  My wedding was 9 months ago now and I still can’t decide.  Her presence didn’t add anything good to my special day, in fact I tried (and mostly succeeded) to block her and her husband out because they were both so disinterested and angry-looking all day, BUT perhaps her absence would have been harder and perhaps her absence would have allowed all sorts of perfect fantasy scenarios to fill my head which may have taken up more room than her presence did.

The morning after my wedding everyone was meeting for breakfast at 9am. I woke up as a newlywed and stared at my new husband and our wedding rings and felt the happiest and safest I had EVER felt in my life.  I felt like I had a home now. Something I had never felt.  We reminisced about our Big Day and got ready in our bridal-suite, stopping to smile and kiss each other.  Everything was heaven.  And then I got a text message from her, it was early, maybe 7am and it said that they had left my wedding venue and had gone home…….to pick up their dog.

I blocked the feelings in that moment and didn’t really care.  My husband reacted to it more than I did.  He was pissed.  I didn’t really care and even felt glad because I didn’t want the awkwardness of seeing her and her husband after seeing their miserable faces all day the day before and I had been anxious about having them in a small room with my Dad’s family.  I focussed on that relief and I focused on all the good, loving and kind people around me.

About 2 days later I was sat at home as my husband napped on the sofa, I was looking on social media at all the lovely comments and “likes” on our wedding snaps and I noticed a distinct and obvious lack of anything from her.  Not one. Nada.  She had however put up a post about her new car (and a photo of her posing with it).  She had also commented and “liked” other people’s photos taken at my wedding; for example one of my sister and her boyfriend and another family member.  She commented “beautiful!” on one photo. But not on a single one of my wedding photos.

I snuck out into the garden so my husband didn’t wake and I cried so much. I was so hurt.  Not just, as it might seem on the surface, because of the photos on social media, but because of the whole thing.  It had finally caught up with me and it hurt so much. So bloody much.  It’s also a hard time to feel like your heart is breaking because you’ve just got your happy-ever-after and you want to focus on THAT feeling, not this one and obviously well-meaning friends and family tell you not to worry about the ONE person who isn’t happy for you when so many others are.  That is easier said than done when that ONE person is your mother.

I saw my mother about 6 weeks after my wedding day which was about the soonest I could tolerate seeing her after it all and she did not mention my wedding AT ALL.  Nothing. No mention of how I looked or my dress, no mention of the venue or the flowers or the bridesmaid’s dresses, the speeches.. nothing.  I still remember however I took real pleasure in booking the table under my new married name and telling the waiter loudly as she looked confused for a nano-second.  It was my little “fuck you” moment.

As I write this, it has been about 9 months since my wedding day and just over a year and a half since “that” night where it all came out and I told her what I really felt.  She still tries to rug-sweep even now.  Every now and again she will send me a text message as though everything is just lovey between us.  Sometimes she will invite me to something which I think we both know I won’t be accepting; for example a few months ago she invited me and my husband to her house to have drinks with her and her husband.  I declined and told her the truth why.  It is too late for that.  We cannot just sweep everything under the rug and pretend nothing has ever happened.  I dared to say it – again.  Her response?  Okay – sad face emoji.

She may as well have typed “how dare you refuse to rug-sweep!!”.

It has taken a lot of therapy, a lot of time and a LOT of confusion and tears to get to this stage but now I have given up the hope that anything will ever be different.  It used to hurt me so deeply that she didn’t love me enough to want to talk about it properly – to try to sort it out.  To apologise and to move on.  Slowly I am coming to the realisation that it isn’t really about me at all, she just cannot tolerate feelings and she cannot believe or admit to herself that she has ever done anything wrong or caused any pain.

The relationship between my mother and I now is pretty empty. It is superficial.  Sometimes this brings great pain, but mostly I accept it and time is a great healer.  The more time passes, the more I am adjusting to this.  It has been one hell of a process going from neglected, unloved child to enmeshed young adult to this – whatever “this” is, but I am doing fine.

The message I would want to get across in my “essay” if I could, would be this: sweeping everything under the rug does not work.  It might be uncomfortable talking about things, but is it any less uncomfortable than losing someone you love completely? I don’t think so. But also, you cannot force someone to talk – or to listen – who does not want to and sometimes you have to let them go – if only emotionally. And that you will be okay in the end.

 

 

Then. And Now.

THEN

Growing up, you were everything.

When I was a little girl I thought you were the most beautiful person in the entire world.

You always smelt of perfume and hairspray.  I would watch you admire yourself in the mirror.  I used to wish that you would admire me the way you admired your reflection.

I used to like watching you get ready to go out because it seemed to make you happy.  But I never wanted you to go.

One time I begged you to let me come with you but you played a cruel trick on me letting me ‘go out’ to the garden after letting me use your lipstick and perfume.  I never forgot how I felt in that moment.

Little did I know then, as a 5 or 6 year old, that that feeling would become more and more familiar to me.  More familiar even than your face.

 

You were at your happiest when you were away from me.  That was clear.  I wanted to make you happy so badly that I would go wherever you told me to go without argument.  But I never wanted to leave you.

You wanted to leave me though.

It was almost worth going for – seeing the happiness spread from your eyes to your mouth if someone offered to take me with them for a day, a weekend or a week.  It didn’t matter who it was.  The pleasure I saw on your face was everything.. until I realised that the pleasure was coming from escaping from me.

My heart would hurt as I left my home. My mum.  My world. It was so confusing seeing you smile so sweetly, so happily as I left you.  How does a child so young handle such feelings?

I was so small and thin.  I had bright green eyes like cats and long, knotty hair which ran down my back.  My “little pony” nightie and soft textured Barbie doll came everywhere with me.

I learnt that your happiness was more important than mine.

I suppose that it shows how pure a child’s love is.  So unconditional.  At an age where I should have been naturally selfish, I learnt that I would rather be heartbroken, hurt or scared than you be angry or unhappy.

 

I don’t have many memories of us together when I was a child.  I have no memories of picnics or parks.  No memories of cuddles or games.  I wish I did.  I wish we had baked cakes together.  I wish that you read to me.  Most of all, I wish you wanted me.

 

A year or so later you went to hospital and came home with another little girl.  A sister for me you said.  I cried and cried at the fear this little girl would take you away from me.  I cried even more when everyone else came over and walked right past me to see you and the new little girl.  I felt invisible.  I was scared.

Me, you, the new little girl and your boyfriend moved into a new house together.  The house felt big. It had stairs.  I got a swing and for my tenth birthday you said I could have a bike AND a bouncy castle party with friends from my class.  I was so excited.

A week or so later you told me I had to keep your secret like a big girl.  The secret was that man you were kissing.  The man who kept telling me we would go swimming and to theme parks.

When we went home that night it was dark and I got into bed.  I remember my quilt cover had 102 Dalmatians on it. It was blue and it felt new from the pack.

The shouting began.  Then plates and glasses were being thrown and smashed. I was scared.  I hid under my blanket and then you came upstairs and told me to get in the car NOW!! I asked if I could bring my blanket.

So much happened.  He was gone and a new man replaced him – just like that.  He wasn’t kind the new man.  He was angry.  He never did take me swimming.  He was scary.  He breathed so loud.  He shouted so much. I cried but I looked after my baby sister.

I moved schools again.  We moved house again and again and again… and then he was gone and a new man replaced him and repeat and repeat and repeat.

 

The thing that never changed was the fact that you were happiest when you were without me. I so rarely saw you but when I did, you were cold and angry.  I still loved you so much. I would do anything to make you happy.

One time I had an accident and my head was bleeding really badly. I wondered if I might die.  You said you couldn’t handle blood so someone else had to sort my head out.  I wondered if I died you might love me more.

 

Life continued to change, never the same for long.  New men, new houses, new schools, new people.  I got older. I saw you less.  You never seemed happy to see me – unless I was leaving.  That is a very painful memory to have.

 

NOW 

Now I am older than you were then.  I could have a 5 or 6 year old child;  but I don’t yet.  Maybe one day my baby will sit and watch me get ready in the mirror like I used to do with you, but I will always admire my child more then my reflection in the mirror.  I will not send her away.

My happiness and my smile; the glint in my eye will come from lifting her from her cot,, from picking her up for a cuddle or watching her play happily.  NOT from watching her leave.

The funny thing is that these days, now, you think it is ME who is cruel because I don’t like to see you as much as you would like me to.

Make no mistake, it isn’t that you want to see me.  That you love or miss me.  You just want me to want you like I used to.

Now you want me to put your happiness before my own like I used to do.  Like you taught me to.  Now I put myself first.  Good girl gone bad.

Now I fight back for that 5 year old child who lives inside me.  Now I smile when I look in the mirror too, not at my reflection like you did, but at her because now she feels loved.

 

You abused your power and now you have none.

Now I leave you – the thing that you always wanted and yet, now you cry.

It is too late.

I don’t see you as everything anymore.

I don’t think you are the most beautiful person in the entire world now.

 

But you still smell of perfume and hairspray;
and you still admire yourself in the mirror.

 

 

 

 

 

Breaking the habit

I was just thinking about my Mum, or rather I was just thinking about how little I’ve been thinking about my Mum.

That probably sounds weird.  What I mean is that my mother used to take up such a lot of my head space on a daily basis and it just occurred to me that I barely think about her at all these days.  I was about to type “for ages” but then I remembered that when I saw her last, the day before Mother’s Day, I was pretty upset afterwards and wishing things could be repaired so I guess it isn’t actually that long, but on a day-to-day basis, there is definitely less “Mum noise” going on.

It sounds sad.  It is sad I suppose, but I feel a bit like I’ve just got used to things being the way they are between us.  I feel so used to her not being in my life anymore that I barely give her a thought.  I so rarely see or speak to her that it has become normal.

I say this in a positive way in that I am not feeling the utter grief that her absence was causing me.  It reminds me a bit of how at the beginning I still really wanted to go and drink with her at weekends, despite everything I had been through with her and despite everything I had learnt in therapy.  Eventually the more I didn’t go – the less I thought about it.  I guess in a way it is like breaking any kind of habit.  You have to do something a certain number of times to make a habit and then you have to NOT do something a certain number of times to break a habit.  A bit like quitting smoking perhaps?  I appreciate this sounds really weird considering the subject is my mother. I am quitting my mother LOL.

Perhaps this is another example of me blocking things out and being in denial but I like to think (I hope) it is actually just me readjusting to life the way it is now.  The way it has been now for several years.

When I get upset about my mother these days it tends to be more out of the total inability to understand how she didn’t have certain feelings towards me when I was young.  For example, the things I wrote about in the post I wrote at Easter.  After I had spent time cooking a large roast dinner for everyone, decorating the table with little chicks, hiding Easter eggs in the garden and going to play with a frisbee in a field – it hit me that I missed out on so many simple things and it upset and frustrated me because I can’t understand how it isn’t automatically inbuilt in a mother to want to do those simple things.  The sad feelings seem to be more things like that now whereas they used to be a lot about the here and now: what she wasn’t doing now.

The invitation to this “family bbq” is still playing on my mind though.  Actually it is one of the things I was looking forward to speaking to T about tonight. I’ve had about 11 days to think about it and I still haven’t come to a decision.  If I am totally honest with myself I think deep down I know that I shouldn’t go.  I think I know that going is potentially setting myself up for a fall.  I think that my reason for wanting to go is based on the child’s hope that it will be this perfect family event which I have spent my life wanting but knowing deep down that it won’t be.  It will be a heavily drink fuelled excuse for a piss up.

Going without my husband will make me feel nervous and on-edge.  Seeing my mother’s husband after his behaviour before and at my wedding is not something that I want to do and I feel I would have to be civil.  Whilst I appreciate that I am able to be civil with someone, I just don’t want to have to be civil to him.  I don’t want to argue with him either; I would just rather not have to see him at all.

I feel a sense of guilt and obligation about going because it is being hosted at my grandparents’ house.  I already know that if it was being held at my mother’s house I wouldn’t go. Perhaps that was a clever tactic, or perhaps it is more about hosting it somewhere it is easier for my Grandad to be now that he struggles to walk.

I think if I am honest, I feel a sense of obligation that if I don’t go, everyone will think badly of me. I feel a sense of guilt that my Grandparents would be upset.  I also know that I shouldn’t do anything out of obligation or guilt, but mix this obligation together with the child part of me’s wishful thinking and it makes it very hard to say no to.

I can’t help but feel that going to this bbq would make me complicit in this big fabrication of playing happy families.  I feel that it would send out the message that people can treat each other terribly and hurt each other irreparably and yet we can sweep it all under the rug without any conversation or attempt to repair anything and pose for family photographs where everyone is smiling happily.  Despite knowing this, seeing the photographs plastered all over social media still have the ability to make me feel jealous.  It’s all very confusing.  I imagine T would say that the adult me doesn’t want to go but the child part of me (the ever-hopeful child) wants to go in the hope that something will be magically repaired.

I recently asked my father’s opinion on this (him and my mother have been divorced for 28 years and they hate each other) and he said he thought I should suck it up for my grandparents’ sake.  He asked “how would you feel if you didn’t go and your grandad died a few weeks later?”.

Ouuchhhhh.

Naturally I answered to say that I would feel guilty.  He then added that I would then attend his funeral and his wake where all the same people would be and then I would have missed the opportunity to see them all under good and happy circumstances.

The thing is though, this is the same person who makes me feel terrible for not attending things he wants me to come to, so I’m not sure how much of this to take to heart.  Though what he said has been playing on my mind.

A month or so ago there was an event to celebrate my aunt getting the all-clear after having cancer and I was not invited.  I thought to myself that whilst not being invited hurt a bit, I knew I would have said no if I had of received an invite.  The only real difference about this bbq is that my nan and grandad are being thrown in the mix (and like I said above, it is at their house). Funnily enough these are similar feelings to the ones I had about my wedding when I hadn’t invited my mother or her husband.

Despite all of the confusion above, I don’t really have any thoughts about seeing my mother there, other than to know she would like it if I went (obviously it makes her look better doesn’t it having both her daughters there).  But I don’t feel a pressing need/want to see her or dread it either.

I’m a bit tempted to plan a camping trip with my stepchildren and go away for the few days over this Bank Holiday weekend so that I am occupied and having fun with safe people.  But I worry I will end up being away and then feeling really sad and left out and then be stuck miles away and feeling resentful.

I was just about to finish there when it crossed my mind that as my pattern during therapy breaks seems to be that I detach when I know there is going to be a break.. perhaps that is what I do with my mother to.  When I last saw her I was desperately sad to “fix everything” and now I am writing about how unattached and unaffected by her I am.  I probably know that if I go I am likely to feel the full effect of all those feelings again and I don’t want that and yet it explains the complete confusion about whether or not go to if I am suppressing the horribly painful feelings that I feel after seeing her of wishing things were better.

Surprisingly Sad (Mother’s Day)

I feel weird right now.  I have all sorts of feelings going on and I feel all sort of… muddled up and unsure of them.  It’s hard to explain.

I met my mother and sister for lunch today, we were there about an hour and then I took my car to be cleaned and sat in a queue for literally 40 minutes trying NOT to think about it all but now I am home and I have an hour to myself.

I have cried a few tears but again, I’m not sure what they were for exactly. Confusion, sadness.. something else?

This might be a surprising post from me and a little different to my usual when it comes to my mother (believe me, I am just as surprised).

Last night I was in the bath reading a book and thinking about today and I felt the urge to text my mum and tell her that I was looking forward to seeing her.  Almost automatically, I told myself no, I don’t do things like that.. but then I refused to listen to that and decided it was how I feeling and so what did I have to lose? I sent it and she replied immediately saying she was also looking forward to it and we had a few messages about a programme she was watching.  That programme was “Dirty John”.  She said she kept having to pause it because it was shocking her and making her anxious and stressed and I found myself wondering if she could see how that story could have so easily been about us.  Me, her and my sister.  I nearly said that, but thought better of it.

Anyway, I got there a while before my sister today and found her walking around the garden centre.  I took her a card and a bunch of tulips and we walked around the plants together for about 5 minutes before going into the tea rooms.  We mainly chatted about a house that I am viewing tomorrow that I have fallen in love with already and she told me that she has already seen it because my aunty was thinking of buying it but had decided not to (can you believe that?).

Anyway, conversation was fine. I felt a familiar sense of kind of nervousness or awkwardness or something but not badly.. just it was there.  Anyway we ate our lunch and chatted about various things.  At one point they were talking about my aunty’s celebration and how lovely the venues were etc… I surprised myself at feeling a bit left out but they didn’t seem to notice that or it didn’t cross their minds that I might feel that way.

And then we all walked to our cars and went our own ways.

The feeling I am left with which surprises me is I feel sad at how distant and disconnected things feel.  It might not make much sense to read this, but I feel in touch with missing her.  She feels so far away.  WE feel so distant.  It feels so sad to me right now.

I’m surprised that I feel this way because most of the time I just want to keep as far away from her and them as I can and only last Sunday I literally CRIED at the thought of “having” to see her.  I torchured myself for months about mother’s day and about how fake it all felt for me and how crap it would feel. And it does, but for a different reason to what I was expecting.

I suppose if I am honest with myself, I wanted her to me all mummsy and want to see me for longer.  She always seems in such a rush to go and usually that suits me just fine.  Not today it seems.  I wanted her to suggest we went somewhere else afterwards or I wish she invited me to something or suggested we did something together soon … I don’t know. I just feel like I’ve come away and I feel so…. abandoned? I don’t know. I feel like she’s properly given up on me.  I feel like I’m removed .. disconnected… I’m not her daughter anymore and I know that doesn’t make sense, I can’t explain what I mean any better at the moment.  Perhaps the feelings are too current.

I finished reading a book this morning, a fiction book and the story is about a grandmother, a mother and an adult daughter.  There were various things in the book that made me think and one of those things was how in the story, the adult daughter and her mother had a very distant and awkward relationship – the daughter even called her mother by her name and not mum/mother etc.  In the book their relationship improves and also, another woman (also a mother) says that mothers are just women too and how old does a daughter have to be before she realises that – that mothers aren’t just mothers or wives, they are people just like us.  It got me thinking.  Perhaps it is wishful thinking but I started to think that maybe there is a way that me and my mother can improve our relationship now that I’ve dealt with so much of the old hurt and pain.  Now that I don’t need her in the way that I used to.  I wondered if perhaps there could be a way that I could build a new relationship with her, one where she was just a woman and so was I… where she didn’t need to be judged on her previous mothering skills … does that make any sense?  Anyway, I suppose today when I sat at lunch and felt the obvious emotional distance between us, it hurt because it feels like she’s moved on from me (and again, I know that doesn’t make much sense either).

I feel like I’ve been left behind or something.

Her and my sister are so clearly close nowadays and I know that people say things will change if my sister doesn’t do what my mother says or wants etc, but I haven’t seen any evidence of that.  It’s like my mother has changed now that my sister has moved out and their relationship is more adult.  Perhaps it would be the same for me?

I kind of feel that I’ve pulled away so much that it all lost. I feel like it could never be anything more than it is now and that I’ve caused so much damage – irretrievable damage?

I also know that anything I’ve done I had to do at the time and I needed to do for myself.  For my own sake. To heal and to try and process my childhood pain and how that still effected me as an adult. I don’t blame myself for it but it feels very sad right now that this is where we are.

I don’t know what I was expecting.  Perhaps I’ve just been triggered into the little girl and I will feel differently later or tomorrow.  My heart just hurts a bit right now is all.

I don’t know why the sudden wish for it all to be made better.. I find myself sitting here at home on my own and visualising sitting at her house with her.  I visualise sitting in her garden with her just chatting and visualise going there after work on a Friday and staying over the night, with no rush to leave and the comfort of that.  That is weird because I haven’t done either of those things in years – literally years and they were very seldom nice times anyway.. often she would tear me apart in some way about my weight or clothes or my boyfriend of the time etc.  It’s all fantasy stuff I suppose.  It’s the wishful-thinking.. rose-tinted glasses thing I guess…

I thought I was dreading seeing her and I thought I would be relieved once it was all over as quickly as possible but actually the effect is quite different. I feel a real hole in my heart this afternoon and I’ve cried as I’ve sat and typed this entire post.

I wonder how she is feeling but I have this horrible sense that she is absolutely fine – happy and I’m crying like an idiot because she is “over it” all and for some reason I am left behind wishing it was different/that she felt different.  Of course I actually have no evidence of any of it.

It isn’t that I wish things could go from what they are now – non-existent to absolutely everything but I wish there could be more than what there currently is.  I wish my husband would tolerate her and I wish I could forgive her husband and her enough to move on with a new future.  I just don’t think some of those things can happen.  It makes me very, very sad.

edit: I liken this feeling to having broken up with someone for a good reason and then meeting up again in the future and feeling the change and the space between you and someone you used to know so well. Wishing you could get back together but sending that they don’t, that they’ve moved on.