June 17th, 2010; My past, my experience, “mother.” Grief stage 2: Anger.


You know, maybe I didn’t really take much interest in the family
because I couldn’t relate.
I wasn’t into sports
and comedy
so maybe I was a little “self-absorbed”
like, with Max and my uncles:

I relate…
I can talk to them
about them
about their lives, interests
because we share those
but I didn’t identify with the things
my adopted family was into
they wanted me to be someone else
and maybe I needed them to be someone else, so I could relate…

There was never anyone to relate to
The first time I related was when I met Max and Lisa
in a family way
it was amazing…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

but it hurts that my “family” (adopted) and I never connected
and that my mother did not accept me and tried to change me

I never tried to get my family to change
not to my knowledge
I just tried to get them to understand
I was the outcast to them
why couldn’t I be “popular” (“‘s are expectations that have now become internalized beliefs)
and like “everyone else,” my mother would say

She would criticize me
it was pretty extreme
and yeah, that’s her own shit (I say with animosity and bitterness) but still…
what “mother” criticizes their daughter?
and undercuts her?
undermines her
a narcissistic mother

I mean, I couldn’t do anything right with her
she would criticize me for how I held my silverware
no wonder I was so fucking self conscious
she would act like I was a fucking alien
as though she did not know me…
god forbid I be my own person
not one of her own
and worse, be directly related to her sister
her terrible “disruptive,” “rebellious” sister

Jeanie was not a bad person
she was outspoken
Judy was just different
she always wanted to be popular
it was all she cared about
her and Jeanie were just so different
Jeanie could care less about being popular… she just wanted to have fun and live life
they butt heads
my mother could not separate her sister from me

She’d call me a “bitch”
constantly
demean me
call me “Jeanie” –“Jeanie” this and “Jeanie” that
to the point where I could not even talk without being intrrupted and insulted
when I’d talk she’d slap me in the face
and say I was “back-talking”
or she’d pull my hair
or throw the remote control at me
she couldn’t separate
and I stood in-between… in the middle… of her masquerade… her rocky horror show

“it was never my own,” I always said, assuring myself that this couldn’t be about me
but I could have sworn it to be when I was a kid –and through my teenage
and early adult years
kids believe things their parents say
my mother taught me to hate myself
because I trusted her
and her words
“bitch” — “you’re nothing but a fucking weirdo” etc.
I hate her.

Erin said to me one time in one of her fit and rages, “go to hell”
well, I hope she –and my “mother” “go to hell”
I just want to speak
This grief needs a voice
Stage 2 –Anger
I am angry at her
SHE can “go to hell”
That is me dispelling my frustration for her insults
I internalized her words
And  mistook them for truth
I swallowed them whole
How ever did I ingest such poison?
Creating toxic shame

However did I learn to love and believe in myself?
Well, that’s simple… I haven’t yet…
and that is a lesson I need to learn
self-love and acceptance
because god knows I didn’t get any from her growing up

She spit all over me
I could never be my own person
I was never seen AS a person
I was a screen for her to project onto
as I said before, I swallowed it whole
now I have toxic shame and grief as tall as the Berlin wall turned upside

and my trust is shattered
the truth (unconditional love) in my eyes runs (ran) thin,
because all I experienced were lies
conditions
strings –attached
“If you were like the ‘other’ girls, you would be good enough” –until then I will call you a “bitch” and a “fucking weirdo” a half a dozen times
and demean, slap, and criticize you
until you get it through your head that you
just don’t measure up

I could not fight back
And now I am the bad guy??
when I bring it up to her?
I am the “bad” guy for saying, “Mom, I felt this way, and it hurt me… your words/actions hurt me…”
“Mom, these are my feelings as a result of your hostile and cruel actions”
“Mom, you have hurt me and shattered my trust”
“Mom, I learned from you that it’s OK to be abused”
Mom, you can walk all over me and criticize me and demean me;
you can pull my hair, berate me, throw objects at me, and then tell me you love me…
mom, you are a Jekyll and a Hyde

And you keep smiling to the world
How-ever, could, should, they know
the real truth
and I sit here as you hide behind some image
behind some face
a mask…
“Mom, how could you have never seen?”
the real thing
the beautiful person inside, behind your projections
your smoke-filled screen of lies and distortions
How could you have never seen, or heard the-my heartfelt cries?
or saw the tears?
large enough to fill an ocean
“How could you have not been there when I was screaming, “Mom, please — Jerry is scarring me… he’s hurting me”
I’m not sure which was worse, you hurting me emotionally or him hurting me physically

She could never live up to her actions
I was a smoke-filled screen, I repeat
A slat for her rants and slanders
curse words
not some dry erase board, either, or blackboard… it was permanent
the scarring
the damage
to my self esteem
hitting me like a lethal dose of cocaine
and all I wanted was some fucking oxygen
to breathe
to be my OWN person
to live separate from her
but she warped me into her world
her sick, twisted little world
Her tongue so sharp… bullets
I was constantly dodging bullets

I could not fight back
it was as though my wrist and hands had been tied
and my throat slit
and her tongue was stuck in my mouth
emotional incest
she would not let me breathe
I could not escape her presence
as she always found a way to pull me back in
to say something more
it was so disruptive to my psyche
anything to get to me
to cast me out
she would keep me wrapped around her dirty little finger
squeezing me to death
and not with love or hugs
but venom
poison
“polluting the airways,” I say

I cannot breathe when she’s choking me with her words
her toxins
my screams were not loud enough for anyone to hear
I felt helpless
I kicked, and I screamed
I wanted her OFF me (her presence)
she would not stop, as she beat her head against me
(metaphorically)
and it hurt me (further psychologically damaged) me every time

my dad tried to step in, but even she brought him down…
drowning him… drowning out his voice
there was no safety
and no “love in goodbye” in my mind
for I was too tied to her
too wrapped around her finger
to understand
to see the truth vs. a lie
and it was all a lie, but it became my truth…
that was my reality
for so long
her slander and insults
and fits and swings
she can go fuck herself
I hate her, I repeat.

And still, it’s years later, and yes, this is my grief
finally coming out
she’s a joke
a heartless
cruel… crude
insensitive
“bitch”
I do not recognize her face — this woman who hits me with inanimate objects then claims to “love” me
reinforcing her superficial image with passages from her bible

it sounds like such bulshit to me –hypocrisy
“You want me to believe you,” mother?  Yet you’re so fucking inconsistent, and yet I swallow it
that has become my reality
who would have guessed?
I think it’s funny how I’m a psych major
haha
and how I want to understand all of this
and people
and for things to make sense
my fucking “life” never made sense… my reality with her
which WAS my life because she would not let me separate
it was, as I said, like “dodging bullets”

fuck her
and like my poem says, “and fuck him, too, for not having enough strength in his heart to pull through”
and “fuck you for all the times you told me I’d never amount to anything”
“because some day I am going to be on the top of the world”
“and throw it in your face”
“you’re such a fucking, goddamn disgrace”
those were the words she spoke to me indirectly…
I ingested her projections
I just want to say sarcastically, “I’m sorry, ‘mom,’ did I disappoint you?”
Was there a mis-communciation?  Did I get switched at the hospital?
Do I remind you of someone else?
“Was I not everything you wanted me to be?”
“Is your money not enough, your lovely ‘dream’ mansion –the car, the cash flow.”
Is it still not enough for such a sick narcissist like yourself?

I want to say, “Oh my god you have a pimple on your face!”
“Are you going to fall apart now, ‘mother?’ lovely mother?”
Are you going to shatter?
Oh, wait, your mirror has been imperfectly perfected….
shattered
ha.
“Mother, you expected me to pick up the pieces”
…”and be responsible for your happiness?!”
“Fuck you, mom!”
She can kiss my ass
her utopia
her idea of perfection
extending to me so far that if I should at all have my own wishes and desires she would throw me to the curb
all while retaining such a lovely poised face
a “white picket” fence reality
quite literally

wow, the delusion
I mean, illusion
the “delusion” on her part
to not even see me as a separate person
narcissistic wounding?
tragedy?
“Oh, I’m so sorry dear mother… was it that bad?”
I was a fucking victim
she took me down
she can kiss my fucking ass
she’s so pathetic
and yet she feeds off people
like a mother fucking vampire
what the fuck do I look like?
I have already been poisoned
what else is left?

nothing, nobody… just Jerry… but that’s right, he’s too preoccupied with his bottle and his sports/news television
“How does it feel now, mom?”
…”to be all alone?  –to be faced with yourself and no one else?”
is it comforting?  consoling?  …knowing, mother, that you have pushed everyone away??
with your vanity
your pseudo-charm
your riches
your material wealth
your false security, happiness
your veneer, your guise, your “mask”
your filter
I must say you sure had no “filter” back then
just degradation
intoxication

she slapped me
and my god I’m finally seeing a good dose of reality
but I still feel just every bit as angry as I first did when I first encountered it –the abuse
the only difference now is that I have more clarity
I’m stronger than her
but what’s a “man” (person) to do?
now that he can see through the glass?
I am speechless.

if she were a dog, I’d say while she’s licking her chops —
“Have you had ‘enough’ yet?”
has she devoured enough and consumed enough?
excuse me for bringing up a dog… I’m just saying… sometimes she’s like a dog in that she’s that low to the ground with her actions and insults
there is a lack of obvious integrity… of truth, of honesty… of respect of any kind
she sold out
for a pretty image
“vanity”
sold her soul
I was taken down in the craziness
and somewhere my sense of self got thrown out the window
I couldn’t have one with her
it threatened her
her precious image
God forbid I wasn’t her lovely princess
I was constantly, unfavorably compared to her biological siblings
and devalued
compared to Jeanie
delusional.
my dad fought to have full custody of me
claiming her to be “mentally incompetent”
yet she won –joint-custody
convinced the judge
with her charisma
pseudo-charm
it’s like a false negative
when it’s really positive
she was positive for a lethal dose of cocaine
ha.
and I got shot up
I didn’t want to
I had no choice
she might as well lined my head up against a brick wall and shot me
what “choice” did I have?
NONE.
It was that simple
her words were insults
beyond cruel
and I couldn’t even recognize her
how could I trust someone who would hurt me, both physically, emotionally, verbally, and spiritually?
You know what?

TALK IS CHEAP
“Actions speak louder than words”
and she’ll die old knowing that –that she was wrong
but will she ever admit it to herself?
to I?
not for the life of her
shame would never allow her to
was someone else always to blame?
yes.
why?
because her childhood was so “horrendous”
because she didn’t get enough “attention,” she stated to my therapist during our one and only group session
which she switched from one face to the next
haha
give me a fucking godamn break
the minute we walked out of that office she turned her back on me
as if the session never existed
as if it was all a joke…
I learned quickly it meant nothing…
just another false hope for the little girl inside of me
“attention,” mother?
you spoiled rotten narcissistic child

Jeanie was honest
she was truthful
she said it like it was
my “mother” couldn’t take it
she wanted to be the center of attention
something terrible went wrong when she was born
something got switched
in the head
something terrible happened
because she never let go of this need for attention

whoring it up with guys
behind my father’s back
FUCK HER!
for breaking apart our family
our home
breaking my sister’s heart
never showing up for her prom
blowing my brother off
so fucking self-absorbed
too caught up in herself
too busy fucking other men to see she had a devoted husband and children that loved her
slut!
lying to my dad
over and over
and yet he had to catch her!
with his own eyes
imagine the agony
that my father felt
and how he had to just shake his head and put on a face, telling the family that everything’s “alright”
what a fucking lie
my poor father

he went into self- denial because of her delusion!
and yet we hear another story
never knowing what to believe
but our own experiences
which seem to frightening to trust– to let into our minds and bodies –our psyches
so we too gt caught-up in the self-denial
and then the truth gets buried

until someone like Jeanie or I speak about it
crack the silence
and yet we’re pointed at
scapegoated against
God forbid I EVER opened my mouth to ANYONE –with my “mother”
she would slap me silly
fuck HER!
fuck me for calling her on her shit!
yet that would NEVER slide with her
she had to preserve the “image” that things were ‘perfect’
telling her girlfriends that I was the “best” daughter; this “straight A” student yet talking shit behind my back and physically abusing me??
Jekyl and fucking Hyde
You never knew what to expect

I call it a lot of garbage, a lot of trash
and unfortunately I swarmed in it for much of my life
buried alive in it
I could not breathe
it was to the top
I could not see
clarity lacked
I got away (to VT) and then I was accused of being “disloyal” to the family –by my BROTHER!
fuck that shit!
for getting the space NECESSARY
to breathe
to see
through the phony fucking veneer
my God she –and now my brother and sister who have been sucked in
must live such a SAD life
a lonely fucking existence

man, to see her with this alcoholic
who mirrors her useless existence
god have mercy on her
pity her
my god do I feel sorry for her
how the hell can I feel sorry for someone who treated without any respect?
who doesn’t respect herself
who doesn’t THINK about her actions
who goes and FUCKS whoever will give her attention
and who flirts with people to get attention
she complains like a fucking martyr
yet she’s CHOOSING to be with him
he’s a fucking mirror of her
and she doesn’t even see it
yet she elicits sympathy from her friends
“oh, Jerry this, Jerry that”
wake the FUCK up
open your eyes

I am 26 years old, and I STILL cannot “exist” with her
I am STILL a threat to her
and the more I break away, the more shit she still continues to say to me
to try and tear, wear me down
how pathetic

who’s going to take care of her when she’s old and grey?
who’s going to be there for her because she cut out everyone else
the only person she can manipulate is her lovely daughter, Amy
who she has managed to enmesh
so bad she has turned Amy on me
of course Amy would disagree because she is in self-denial
pretty fucking pathetic
Amy can’t see through it
because inside she’s afraid and is clinging like a child
there is no judgment there
it’s a normal reaction to an abnormal, shocking response (my dad’s death)
still, there is denial tearing us apart, creating walls that separate
exactly what my “mother” wants!

and my mother just embellishes and embellishes and embellishes
how is there truth in a lie?
how has the truth become a lie?
how has the lie become the truth for some, those who batted for m and were strong within themselves?
how does my sister not see through it?
and me in the background
once again, in the shadow of my lovely mother
such a charade
a lovely dance –of who’s “right?”
of who wins the cookies?  the “grammy?”
has she convinced you?
no one really wins you see…
I don’t have my father
I don’t have my brother
I don’t even have my sister
none left to vouch for me
only myself
and my journals– they are burned
discarded– whatever she did to them
All I have now is my father’s journal used in court
I am an adult now, but inside feel like I have so much healing to do from this stripping of my dignity –of my livelihood

but this “too will soon pass,” as Alanon says
with time
with love, kindness, friendship, support, and acceptance
it will move past like a rain cloud…
the rain cloud will dissolve
we will heal
our wounds
but she will die on her death bed never being able to say “I’m sorry”
because she lacks empathy
she refuses to get help
after all of this damage she has caused people
she continues to deflect blame and people buy into the “new ‘changed’ person”
there is nothing left to fight for when all else is gone,
ie: my father, me…
my mother has won, and now through fear because her siblings are isolated
and they have grown dependent on her –my sister for approval and my brother financially
my mother is the empire –or rather, Jerry is
what would she do without her false supply?
be left with herself? she’s already left with herself which is why she has to feed off people
to keep her sense of self alive
so pathetic
so sad
stricken poverty
she’s delusional
and lost it
a LONG time ago
and tried bringing me down with her
to her level
in this horror show
this film
it was so bad I couldn’t even believe it was real
I had to make-believe
hide out in my fucking room
go outside in nature
to try and escape
the chaos, the craze
and yet she was never to blame
polished her up like a car baby
like her freshly painted, manicured high-end nails
that never lost their shine
except when they encountered a chip
yet people still can’t see through it?
unbelievable.

simply put, “My life was never my own”
my “tower” (self-hood) burnt down

a long time ago
she wouldn’t let me build (ie, my own life)
she tried to tear down –every fucking wall I built
she would find where I would hide
and she would breathe fire on me

until I melted and died (shrunk/stood so low I did not have a sense of self –worth/trust)
and then she would bring me back to life with her sweet loving words and sweet-talking “promises”

I fell for them
for her flattery
the guise
such a forced expression
so cruel
“what is a joke,” I always asked
and she’d pick me back up and the whole cycle would start all over
I’d be “damned if I do;  damned it I don’t”
I’d be damned if I repeated the cycle again

and unfortunately I have in all my relationships thus far
I have moved so lovingly into a habitual pattern
of finding unavailable women
to repeat this cycle with
but no more
“I can’t,” I repeat
“I will die again,” I say to myself
“I will suffocate,” I mutter
and occasionally scream
the roof is on fire –“my room’s on fire”
building collapsed
it haunts me in my dreams, as I dream of death and escape

maybe someday I will let a woman in the entry way
not the way my mother did
no woman will knock down every single wall
and will I give her power
to do such
because that’s destructive
and it’s not my responsibility to put on the brakes
to say, “hey, don’t tear me down”
if she can’t have the decency to do it herself she’s not worth it
she has issues
and I don’t want t o be a part of her deadly force
mass destruction
nature
I want nothing to do with it

I want to build my own castle
my own tower
and when I find a woman worthy of trust and respect, I will let her in the doorway
to share that part with me
but until then I have gates locked
that say “KEEP OUT”
hence my swords –over my journal’s front cover
those represent boundaries
“you have to love the unknown”
I wrote, in a poem, “I swear I’m loving myself even less” -me
but this time, I’m turning that cup upside down

she and all who have hurt me can kiss my ass
the truth is, there is grief
but this time I have support
I have 12-step
and that’s enough for me
there are people there who care
there is wisdom, strength, support, love, kindness, and encouragement
I don’t need a beating
or a midnight rant
I don’t need blackness — my eye or heart

My castle will stand tall
my tower
built with new walls
only for me
stable and free
no “wind” will knock me over
no destructive force will break my fall
or tear down my walls

1/27/11-  I am pretty sure that my mother is suffering from Narcissistic Personality Disorder, or one of its cousins, possibly Borderline Personality Disorder.

Link:  http://www.daughtersofnarcissisticmothers.com/narcissism-traits.html

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