Forgiveness and Role-Reversal

WARNING: This blog is written by an adult survivor of severe childhood abuse. While specific graphic details are not offered, it is entirely possible that this material may be uncomfortable for some readers. If you have any doubt as to whether this may “trigger” you or make you feel unsafe in any way, please STOP reading and click elsewhere. If, while reading this or at any other time, you find yourself feeling unsafe or contemplating hurting yourself, please IMMEDIATELY contact a crisis line or mental health professional. Please – be safe, and be well.

If you or anyone you know is having a crisis and feeling alone or potentially unsafe, please consider using one of these resources. You'll notice there are organizations around the globe, including LGBT-targeted groups like PFLAG, and groups for survivors of different kinds of violence. Here's a link to a list of resources. Please know that I care, and many people in your life care. It's a sign of true strength to reach out if you're hurting; people want to offer their support. You are NOT alone. ================================================


As I write this, my mother remains in the hospital, still in the ICU. She's been hospitalized for six or seven weeks; home once, for less than 48 hours before having to go back to the hospital. Mom's partner is a good person, and she shares with me all she can - or as much as Mom will allow her to. The reality of this situation is that I will probably never know just how complex or dire the situation is, because my mother believes in the power of Denial.

Additionally, Mom rebuffed my efforts to come see her, with my raising funds for airfare by selling some of my belongings, and accepting "love offering" donations via THIS link. She says my coming to see her would be a waste of money. I cannot describe how painful it was for her to say that. It took all my self-control not to counter with, "What, and it WON'T be a waste of money to come to your funeral?"

All of these current challenges with Mom bring to mind the struggle I went through in my 30s, when I realized that I carried an enormous burden of rage at my mother. It wasn't hurting her - it was hurting me. It took years of work, but I was finally able to lay that burden down. It' not that I condone what she did (or didn't do), but I was done being consumed by white-hot rage. As the years pass, I've come to see my mother as a frightened woman, with a childhood filled with loneliness and outright abuse. She's never talked about the abuse per se, but I've finally been able to read the subtext and see the deeper meaning in comments she's made about her own childhood.

It's a balancing act, accepting Mom for who and what she is, but not excusing her actions as inevitable outcomes of what she endured as a child. I survived horrors on a scale incomprehensible to most people, and I worked very hard as a parent to ensure my children knew they were loved, and to protect them from harm. Unlike my own mother, I made sure my children understood that I made mistakes just like every other person on the planet, and that I would admit when I was wrong. This is diametrically opposed to my mother's parenting stance - she insisted that she was beyond all questioning, and that she never made mistakes.

As a child, I was never granted compassion or unconditional love from my mother. When in doubt, she figured a good beating would straighten me out, even if I had done nothing wrong. She hated everything I represented - innocence, creativity, and the lost promise of her own youth.

Now, as an adult with two grown children of my own, I experience a poignant sadness, and an aching sense of frustration. In a twist of irony, I am able to grant her what she could never give me as a child: unconditional love and compassion. I will always love my mother; she gave birth to me, and did the best she could with what limited resources she had. If she had known better, no doubt she would have done better as a parent.

Still, being rejected yet again, being told that it's not worthwhile for me to come to see her, even though she seems to be at the edge of her own mortality - it hurts. I'm working anew on forgiveness, letting go and allowing Mom to do what she feels is right for herself. Perhaps she doesn't want me to see her this vulnerable, or doesn't want my last memory of her to be this painful. I can never know the rationale behind her current decision-making.

I've received $45 in donations - which, while not enough for a ticket to Texas, is enough for a nice gift and card to send for Mother's Day. My own therapist and I have been looking at my mother's current and past behavior, and we believe Mom may be dissociative. She certainly seems to have children or child-like alters - a theory that Mom's partner has quietly endorsed. So, I'm headed off later today to hit Hallmark to get a nice, soft stuffed animal and a lovely card, and then send it via Priority Mail to get it to Texas by Mother's Day.

A heartfelt thanks to those who donated! After a recent $500 rent increase, my discretionary spending pool is virtually nonexistent. All the more reason for me to keep working on my writing. I believe the content of my work is compelling, and a story unlike any other. Let's hope there's a publisher (or at least a literary agent) who agrees.