So I need a safe place to keep a journal as these things come up, and I need to get them out on (virtual) paper so to speak. Who knows, maybe by putting it "out there" there will be other people in similar situations who will feel better reading this. Maybe they will say hi.
There's so many things I could talk about, will talk about, need to talk about, that it could easily get out of control pretty quickly, so I'm just going to start with what's bothering me right now.
I always suspected something was really, genuinely wrong with my mother. She's incredibly high strung and plagued with anxiety. She's always exhibited extreme obsessive-compulsive style behavior. Growing up around her was an exercise in patience, and sometimes I didn't have enough of it. As an adult I have disowned her, partly out of anger for the things she has done/said, and partly because I just do not have the skills to cope with her crazy-making behavior and needed to eliminate that from my life in order to stay sane and healthy.
Recently I've learned that she has been diagnosed with schizophrenia (among other things, and probably obsessive compulsive personality disorder). Learning this has shed some new light on her life, and her behaviors. I don't know a lot about it yet, and I don't fully understand it. In a way, having a name put on her crazy activity validates my experiences with her - I remember trying to communicate with other people how messed up she was, but nobody really believing me - they weren't stuck living with her alone like I was, so how could they know? On the other hand, I'm now finding myself re-thinking everything she ever did or said and wondering "was that her illness talking?", "is that why she did that?" etc.
About a week a go I was explaining this situation to a friend and I realized I was using very generic terms like "the things she said", or "the things she did when i was a kid" - the more I thought about it the more I wanted to really hone in one what it is she "did", so I started making a list - I quickly noticed some patterns.
I had a list in front of me of basically everything I was ever angry at her for, and they fell into two categories:
1) Things she did and said that were merely embarrassing
When I bought my first computer, she called around trying to purchase a lead apron (like when you get an x-ray) so that I wouldn't get cancer.
Things like that. They are embarrassing and weird to talk about, but when I remind myself that I am not my mother and I don't need to be embarrassed by her behavior, it gets better.
2) Things she did and said that hurt my feelings, frustrated me, confused me. These are the things that have left scars on my heart and mind and I am trying to let go and move past.
There's a lot more of these. I'm still angry and confused.
My father passed away when I was very young, leaving me basically alone with my mother. I was very depressed as a young teen, for many many years after he was gone. It was a dark time where I wasn't attending school and was basically a shut in in my bedroom. I felt alone, abandoned, and stuck living with somebody that I was afraid of because of her crazy-making behavior. I really could have used an adult friend, a counselor, or anybody to talk to, but I really had nobody for years and years. I started staying up late at night and sleeping during the day because I could avoid my mother that way. I entered a really rough cycle of insomnia, followed by sleeping for 1-2 days at a time. Finally, I started having night terrors when I tried to go to sleep and eventually became afraid of going to sleep. I would stay up and watch TV in the living room on the couch until I fell asleep there, and sometimes not until morning.
My mother got concerned. But rather than getting me help, she told me that the reason I was having terrors at night when I tried to sleep is because demons were coming into our home through the TV shows I was watching and trying to possess me.
To some extent, I believed her. I was 13.
She taught me that I needed to remain guarded at all times, living with my shields up, like she did. It was exhausting. I wasted a lot of time praying to a god I don't believe in, which didn't help. She made me terrified of everything. The only thing that did help was time, age, eventual wisdom that what I was experiencing was not, in fact, normal and life didn't have to be lived crazy like that, and reaching the age where I could finally move out from under her death grip.
Its 12 years later and I'm still learning how to breathe normally, that I can relax, that I can let go, and that nothing is going to "get me". It's a new concept, and one that's only just starting to develop now that I have all of the facts.
I'm tired and it's late, so I'm calling it a night. I'll write more tomorrow.
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