I do not remember a ton of my childhood. I remember bits and pcs. I remember the rage, the not good enough, the mood swings, the outburst, and did I mention the rage :(. I am sure my mother did not intend for me to feel less than, unworthy or unlovable, however, it is very much the message that I got. Even the things I do not remember I know because she would tell me. I can not tell you how many times I heard the story of her not being able to comfort me as a baby and that she had to call my dad home from work, he took off his shirt, laid me on his chest and I was out like a light. How when my dad was working and I was a bit older I would sit with my back against the door and glare at her while I waited for my dad to come home. ( I vaguely remember this). How horrible and long my birth was, they had to use forceps, I was upside down, wrong way around and labor was three days. When I was born I had black eye or eyes, my head was not perfectly round, I had marks from the forceps. I was my dads first and only child he was unsure if I was ok. So he asked my mom if I was a beautiful baby or something along those lines and the part of the story I remember the most is this. My mom said to me ” so I lied and told him you were” I am unware of when she first starting telling me these stories or why, though I can tell you I know them well.
Did my mom share these stories with the intent to hurt, not likely. Did she know that she was creating a low self worth and self esteem in me while sharing these things with me. I would hope not. Do I blame her for my short comings and the work that I have had to do to believe that I am beautiful or worthy of love, NO.. Have I always been able to, absolutely not. What I realized as I got older and became more in charge of my own life, having my own children, making my own choices that, what I realized, were defining how I thought of myself and how I was seeking outside validation that I was loveable, is that I was caught up in what I had learned while growing up. That the messages I had were passed down and I was not even sure they were what I believed. I had stories in my head for sure, I am just not sure they were mine or true. I had some awareness that my home life was different when I was younger, when I went to friends homes, there environment was not near as hostile or eggshelled as mine, they were able to speak freely without worrying about the backlash of what they said. What I realized was a lot of them were not afraid. Now that sounds like my mom was a raving lunatic, lol… she was sometimes, however not everyday. She was moody, she was mean and sometimes she would loose her noodle and I had no idea why. Sometimes she would lash out at people and it was super embarrassing, she would get mad at a store clerk offering her help or loose it on a clerk if the price of something was too much. like just flip her lid. You never knew what you were going to get. One time I walked in the door and I was happy, she snapped at me about what as I smiling about, ( obviously in a mood) so when leaving I consciously made an effort to not have a facial expression and wouldn’t you know it she was angry at me for not smiling and I somehow had become ungrateful. there were times you were damned if you did and damned if you didn’t.
It was challenging for me as a child to figure out. I wanted to please my mom, I wanted her to be happy with me, love me and be proud of me. As a child it was all personal, I did not have the concept that she was going through her own stuff, or that she was having a bad day. I was a child my focus was the now, the moment and being a child most likely all about me. Now my genetic make up is slightly different than my siblings and for whatever reason that may be I seem to be the one to speak more. To fight more. To push back more. examples: young and my mom is having a moment, emotional breakdown of some sort and how it is displayed is in anger and towards others, never within. ( common behaviors for one that is struggling within themselves) In this particular moment the anger display was towards me, I was on the chair in the kitchen, grabbed her royal albert tea pot which was her pride and joy and cost her lots of dollars. I looked at her and dropped it. At a young age I had a fuck you attitude. I am sure there was a part of me that was scared of what was to come, though I believe it was my only form of expression at the time. If she said something I didn’t like about my dad, she got push back or saying she was wrong. She did not put down my dad often , from what I can remember it was only the one time. It was with her and her friend Jo and I believe I most likely embarrassed her, by talking back and stating my thoughts. My siblings would not dare talk back to my mom. ( mind you my oldest got the most physical abuse so I understand the ways) Once I was older it would come to louder words and more direct statements. lol I remember when I already had children and we were at her place for Easter. I can not tell you why we were leaving early, maybe my husband and I were tiffing or I was tired of the family dynamics. My mother threatened me. If i left I was never allowed to come back. We had already been on the porch yelling at this point. why the yelling. She told me she was worried about how I might treat my babies leaving in anger…I lost it. how I was going to treat my babies.. oh for fuck sakes you have got to be kidding me, i didn’t hit them, i didn’t shame them, I didn’t treat them like a possession. how i was going to treat my babies from a woman who could not look at how she treated hers. that was the clearest picture I had seen of her projection of her own self on to me. So I stated so.. of course not in the nicest terms. I had my own anger, my own pain, my own rejection and abandonment issue with my mom so my words were expressed in all of that. I had not grown enough to see it, own it and let it go. I reacted in my discomfort. I would of had to been 23 -24 years of age. Her last comment to me was if I left I could never come back, me in my f u ways, was like is that a threat. I do not care if I can never come back fuck you.. My middle sister was crying telling me not to go, that I wouldn’t be allowed back. She would have been 26-27.. I was like man she doesn’t control me anymore. And I left. My sister was still looking for approval, was still afraid of our mother.
I am not saying I wasn’t afraid or looking for approval, I am sure I was, however, I had so much anger towards her with her statement and the fact that she could be so dismissive about how she was, that everything else faded away. Did I cry when I left, you bet. Did I worry that the mother I so desperately wanted to love me, the one that I felt like had already abandoned me, that I so wanted to tell me I was good enough and loveable was never going to speak to me again. Yes, it was heart crushing and yet I did it anyways. Why because I had babies, I had my life, I had my own crap to deal with and her projection, shame, guilt was not motivating me in the direction she was used to manipulating me by, it had the complete opposite effect. Instead of giving up, or allowing her to keep me low, feel less than, I stood up for myself, not beautifully however the best I could at that time. Why was it so impactful this time, why did it feel so different, why was I sooooo angry/sad with her and why did it matter? I will tell you why, because my family dynamics and trauma cycle was shifting, without me knowing it I was on a path of changing some of the cycle. The unhealthy part of me was not doing it for myself, I was doing it because I had children. I refused to let someone ever let my children believe that I would harm them in any way or give them an impression that they were less than, not important, not valued…. they were the most precious special beings to me. That someone was going to belittle me or make me feel less then in front of them. They were young, 1 & 3 maybe, lol they most likely have no recollection and yet it was going to be a cold day in hell before anyone talked me down to them not even my mother apparently. Not the healthiest mind set, not the best approach however it was a shift, something that made me question myself, my family history, mental health and my beliefs.
more for another day.