Some Emotional History

I have images in my head that I will never get rid of.
Mom was raving and crazy .....screaming ......... and she grabbed her hair .....hand fulls, and stared pulling it out, there was blood and chunks of skin... and she was screaming, asking me why I was trying to kill her.


It was difficult for me growing up... starting in about junior high, continuing through college.... I was constantly troubled by things that I didn't talk to anyone about openly.

I loved my parents, I trusted them, I enjoyed spending time with them.... we were close.

But

There was an instability growing inside of my Mom. She was kind, thoughtful and giving a lot of the time .... most of the time. But, she had extreme mood swings that she did not seem to be able to control. As time passed the episodes went from occasional to frequent and from sad internal depression, to absolutely fucking violent fits ending in destructive behavior. Physically she only tortured herself, but she didn't have the same discretion when it came to verbal assaults, or attacks of guilt.

She seemed to think that the world was conspiring against her. At some points Dad and I were on her team... and the world was against all of us. Those were the good moments. However, as time passed, and she got worse, every half heard conversation I had with Dad became a plot to harm her. Every journal entry I wrote was an insult (... she was wonderful about giving me the respect of not reading my Journal... I trusted her completely ... and that meant so much to me. but what she imagined filled the pages was terrible, much worse than anything I had actually written). My unavoidable maturity also became an issue. Every stage of Independence for me was like a step away from her.... and she knew that someday I would leave her behind. I tried very hard to convince her that she was wrong, that I was loyal.... sometimes even truncating my own growth.... but eventually it was a self fulfilled prophecy... by H.S. I was doing just about anything to stay out of the house.

I wanted to run away so many times....... but I couldn't hurt her that way, or my Dad, and I was pretty useless when it came to independent survival.

Living with Mom, and her insanity was damaging to me. .......................
She would have hated to hear that, I believe that she loved me...... and she would have apologized .... and felt guilty.... Because when she snapped back in, she always regretted her lack of control.


....I rejected what she said... that I was the cause of this- that I was killing her.

BUT

......... I also believed her. Inside I felt like a horrible horrible person....

I would tell myself that she was sick and unhealthy .... and I would legitimately forgive her..... but I didn't really let that logic apply to myself.... it was more difficult to forgive myself.

Also, I had my own adolescent awkwardness to deal with, I was fat and weird and felt out of place. When I was about eleven I went from being a tom boy hanging out with the guys ....the only girl partner they were happy to get when we would square dance in gym - to a burden... and I lost most of my friends as dating and crushes took hold. I was angry and indignant and sad.... and lost....

I always hated school... but when I started Morse Jr. high.... it was horrible. I started lying and not doing my home work and hiding my report cards.... and I became exceptionally fearful that my parents would come to the school ......
Unfortunately, I think my Mom thought that I was getting older and was embarrassed of her .... that was never it. I thought that someone would pull them aside and tell them that I was terrible......... and a bad person.

Things got much worse at home .... Sometimes she would sit on the edge of her bed, hug a pillow and cry for hours without any reason (that I knew of). There were nightly battles over what to have for dinner.... and daily wars about what I would wear to school. and she would starve herself for days until she got sick... and then blame Dad and I. She started telling us that she had written down how we were trapping and torturing and killing her ....and that they would find the notes after she died and blame us.

The part that I have left out or over looked here is that in between her episodes she was sweet and nice and intelligent, and the person that knew me best. I always trusted her.... and I always believed ....even though I was being stupid.... that when she apologized she meant it and that there might be an understanding reached that would end all of this.
However
I was forming in an odd way because of this.... I became harmful to myself in minor physical ways....and I was always convinced that I was dying for one reason or another. I finally settled on the personal myth that I would die when I was 26... I slept very little most of the time .... and then other times way too much.... and I was positive .... no doubt in my mind that I would end up exactly like her. insanity was my future.

......... and although I was oddly confident in other ways..... I still felt like inside I was shrivelled and black and horrible.... and just not a nice person at all. When people would say that I was nice... I was baffled, and I just thought they didn't know me well enough. They didn't know the evil shit in my head ....the anger that I hid .... the dreams that I had ...

I had difficulty getting close to my friends... I would start a friendship off with no expectations of them... I would be accepting of any type of behavior.... but then I would slowly become hurt and judgemental.... feeling that they had betrayed me. Sometimes they had .... other times I held them to impossible standards of loyalty. I felt like I laid traps and played tricks the way she did. That created huge problems for me ... because I was fairly conscious of it at the time ... and hated myself for doing it. Sometimes I would be treated horribly and not have the confidence to react.... I thought of myself as sneaky and deceptive. Other times I would push people away because they weren't as loyal as I wanted them to be. I was waiting for one person that I could open up to and tell everything. Someone who wanted to know everything.
I needed help.... it was all way over my head and I didn't see just how far away from getting control of the situation I was. I needed an adult or a professional.... looking back I see that. It was unreasonable to expect anyone my age to be able to handle the situation alone. But I never really asked for that help. and I moved on living that way until college.
When I met Joe freshman year at MIAD I found what I needed. I think it was his blunt uncompromising honesty that I found most attractive... It was harsh, it was antisocial.... he was almost belligerent with his silence .... but when he opened up it was wonderful.... and warm, and no one but me really saw it. Pathetically it made me feel special being in such an exclusive partnership.
However, Mom became drastically worse. It wasn't that she disliked Joe.... but between my new interests at school and Joe I think she felt like I was distancing myself from our household.....and I was.
BUT-
there were also things I didn't know.

I knew that my Moms biological father had abandoned my grandmother when my Mom was a baby..... I knew that she had a rough time because of that. I also knew that Mom felt like the world hated her because she was fat.... I knew that she felt that she had been robbed of something because she never went to college ....
But I didn't know that she had a child that she gave up for adoption... I wouldn't find out until after her death.

The first summer that Joe and I went out was a wonderful whirlwind.... I couldn't tell you what my parents thought about us at that point.... I just didn't care.

When school started again...... it was really different. Joe and I had the worst year of our relationship.... and didn't know how to react to one another when we had separate interests and responsibilities. Mom was frantic....like I had never seen her because she thought I would get pregnant and drop out of school... I was only sleeping about five hours a week and I was having some personal crisis... I felt useless as an artist. I remember that year as the year I cried all the time. ....... I thought it was the first stage of my depression/insanity kicking in.... so crying made me cry.
But most things evened out......
Unfortunately part of healing myself did mean pulling away from Mom.

I have more to say .... on this.... I think I always will... I don't think I will ever resolve this 100%,
but I have said enough for now.

Related post: Old Stuff
Mom- (old site)