Walking Out On Dysfunction by Christina Enevoldsen

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I am excited to have my good friend and guest blogger Christina Enevoldsen from “Overcoming Sexual Abuse” writing once again for Emerging from Broken today while I am enjoying a vacation in Mexico.  As always please feel free to add your comments, share your experiences and post your feedback in the comments section following Christina’s article. Darlene Ouimet; founder of emerging from broken

 Walking Out On Dysfunction by Christina Enevoldsen

In the movie, The Truman Show, Jim Carrey plays a man whose life is televised from birth. Truman Burbank’s family, friends and entire community are actors and the world he lives in is a Hollywood set. He’s the only one who isn’t aware that he’s the star of a reality show and that his life and everything that surrounds him is fake. 

One day, the facade begins to slip when part of the lighting equipment falls from the sky.  He begins to notice other things that don’t make sense. His attempts to discover the truth and to escape his confinement are thwarted, but he eventually discovers a door leading to the real world….. continued…

As Truman attempts to go through, a loud booming voice is heard overhead.  It’s the producer of the show, his father who gave him up, “Truman, I’ve watched you your whole life. I saw you take your first step, your first word, your first kiss. I know you better than you know yourself. You’re not going to walk out that door—Truman, there’s no more truth out there than in the world I created for you—the same lies and deceit. But in my world, you have nothing to fear…Say something, damn it! You’re still on camera, live to the world!

Truman responds with his signature line: “In case I don’t see ya— good afternoon, good evening and good night.” Then, bowing, he steps through the door, and into a new life.

I tried to find that exit door for years. Like Truman, I lived in a fabricated world. It was partially fabricated by my parents through the family secrets and lies and partially by my own mind out of a need to believe I was safe and loved. In the reality I knew, my mom and dad were ideal parents and my childhood was untainted and uneventful. As long as I believed that I lived in the normal world, I followed the script that was written for me.

I had glimpses of the truth, but I didn’t recognize them. Like Truman’s light falling from the sky, I saw and felt things that weren’t consistent with the childhood I remembered.  When I was in my early twenties, I remembered that my dad sexually abused me.  I easily put that knowledge in a box since it didn’t fit the life I knew. The truth tried to break through in other ways, but I explained it away.  Whenever someone who admired my mom told me I was so lucky to have her, I felt a churning in my gut.  I wanted to say, “If you only knew her.” I berated myself and concluded that I must be jealous or an ungrateful daughter. I maintained that lie for most of my adulthood.

When my constructed world began to be demolished, it took me by surprise.  My mother told a lie in an effort to manipulate my husband.  It was hard to believe that my mom would use deception.  She was a community leader, well respected and loved. Yet the facts were undeniable.  And something about her lie felt familiar.  It was astonishing to remember many, many other times when she lied to me, beginning in childhood.  In a letter, I wrote her a very vulnerable and heartfelt invitation to become closer by changing the way she treated me.

I’d always wanted to be closer to my mother and I thought she wanted that too.  I never questioned why I always had to do things for her to earn a relationship.  I never wondered why I thought she was more important than me and I just had to settle for what I could get.

When I wrote to her, I never expected anything other than an apology and some changes.  I was so deluded by the fantasy I created that I never expected that she would walk away.  Her response was a series of letters.  One angrily accused me of not honoring her. In another one, she reminded me that I wasn’t perfect and that she, “never remembered any wrongs against me.”  In her last one, she bribed me with a request for me to help her with her will.

As shocking as my mom’s response was, I didn’t feel much of anything except relief over her rejection. I was overwhelmed with a sense of peace that I no longer had to perform or suffer the confinement of such a dysfunctional relationship.

I expected to feel some kind of loss.  I didn’t have a mom anymore.  Shouldn’t that mean something?  Shouldn’t that hurt?  I started to see that my relationship with my mom was a lie; I pursued her love, approval and attention, while she tolerated me. Why would I crave a relationship like that?

Soon, anger replaced the relief.  I raged at her for fooling me all those years and fooling the people around her into thinking she was the good one and I must have done something extremely wrong for her to walk away from me. Believing the facade caused me to turn against myself for most of my life. I blamed me for failure rather than seeing her for what she was. For months, I pushed away any good memories and rehearsed the hurtful ones over and over.  I was afraid of going back to believing the lies if I didn’t remind myself that my recent discoveries were true.

As long as I saw her as all bad, there was nothing to grieve. I’d only seen her goodness when I was a child and I was seeing only her badness now.  I was terrified that if I allowed myself to see her good side, I’d want a relationship with her and I would be exposed to more rejection.

Even if I wanted to see her again, she was disgusted with me. Not only was she indignant that I stood up to her, but I had begun to talk about my sexual abuse by my father and she was furious about that. I knew there was no going back, but I was afraid of wanting to go back and of compromising my boundaries.

Eventually, I ran out of anger. I was tired of being mad at her. I remembered the good things she did for me—the dresses she sewed and the meals she cooked. With the anger-shield gone, I felt the force of the hurt and loss. I remembered something about myself as a child and I wanted to ask my mom about it.  All at once, I was desperate for my mommy.  Maybe this was all a misunderstanding.  Could I try one more time?  Was I blowing everything out of proportion?  Was it really such a big deal that she had lied?  Maybe we could renegotiate.

I felt weak and pathetic for wanting someone who didn’t want me. I felt like a dirty, scrawny child standing outside the window while she was inside laughing at me. I knew it was useless to hope for reconciliation since her abuse escalated, but the desire was alive and the pain hit me hard. It was only when I stopped judging my feelings and allowed myself to feel them and express them that I saw the truth. The truth is that my mother doesn’t love me.  I’d never seen that before. I grieved the loss as though I was freshly cut off—as though the separation had just occurred. 

I thought I was finished grieving and then the wound was reopened.  My mom had been silent for a year and a half when I got a series of letters and emails from her accusing me of lying and living in a fantasy land.  Her denial of my sexual abuse felt like a denial of my life. Until then, I’d been so rational about her lack of support. I reasoned, “Who cares what SHE thinks, anyway?” But the violence of her words were a blow.

She insisted that I remember that she’s my mother.  It hit me afresh that I didn’t have a mother. The final rejection and betrayal was just the most recent in a lifetime of rejections and betrayals. I never had a mom who supported me or loved me. She hadn’t suddenly changed into a mean person.  She didn’t recently turn her back on me.  She was treating me the way she always had.

I’d been grieving the loss of my mother as an adult child, but I wasn’t an adult all my life.  I used to be a little girl and I didn’t have a mom then, either.  The pain seemed to crush me.  I was a young girl again, alone and abandoned. As long as I viewed the rejection as a result of some event, I had hope of being accepted again. But my mother was never a mother to me and she never would be.

Every new revelation brings another layer of pain.  But as I acknowledge the pain and give myself the nurturing attention that I never got, I distance myself from the world of lies.

The last layer was bittersweet. I’d achieved some breakthroughs in my personal and professional life and finally knew there was nothing that would stop me from my dreams.  I had worked most of my life to earn my mom’s attention and love and now that I was well on my way, she wouldn’t a part of that. I felt sad, but I felt sad for her, not for me. I didn’t need her love or approval and there wasn’t anything to hold me within her world anymore.  I felt like Truman did when he stood at the exit door. I was finally ready to leave.

There would be no resolution between my mom and me.

But my future isn’t dependent on her. I’ve resolved things within my own heart. My mom walked away from me a long time ago and now I’m finally able to walk away from her. 

 Christina Enevoldsen is cofounder of “Overcoming Sexual Abuse”, an online resource for male and female abuse survivors looking for practical answers and tools for healing. Christina’s passions are writing and speaking about her own journey of healing from abuse and inspiring people toward wholeness. She and her husband live in Los Angeles and share three children and three grandchildren.

43 response to "Walking Out On Dysfunction by Christina Enevoldsen"

  1. By: Teresa Posted: 20th March 2012

    Hey Layla, I enjoyed reading this so very much. You do an excellent job of describing the process of ‘awakening’ that each of us most go through. I identify with every thing you say. – My mother had the capacity for compassion, for warmth, for caring. Most people would describe my mother as kind and giving. But she was rarely, if ever, loving or warm with me. I seemed to represent a kind of negative lightning rod – the thing upon which she projected her poison, her anger, her resentment, her unhappiness. Mothers like mine psychologically fuse with their daughters, then use them as toxic dump sites.

  2. By: Mindy Posted: 19th September 2011

    I will def. go back and read what has been written on this topic here on this blog, but I just wanted to make sure that there was no loyalty to my mom because she took care of me when I was dealing with the stuff from what my dad did. It’s like a person being your best friend and then you get married but don’t choose them to be your maid of honor or something like that.

    Put yourself in my shoes, and maybe you have worn them: you were sexually abused by your dad as a young child and your mom took care of you after it came out. She took you to counseling and was there to listen when you had nightmares, but as you got older, you realized things weren’t the way they were supposed to be. You realized that some of your mom’s behavior was considered abuse. Your mom also is mentally ill with borderline personality disorder. Now that you are much older, 22, to be exact, you realize her game, her illness, and you wonder if you really have a loyalty to her because of all she did for you when you were a little girl. Is there a loyalty or obligation to her?

    • By: Darlene Ouimet Posted: 20th September 2011

      Hi Mindy
      I totally understand what you are saying and what you are asking and I understand how conflicting that it is to have been taken care of about something and devalued somewhere else. Only you can decide if you have loyalty to her… to me, there is NO SHOULD involved in it. My mother / father have no more rights then anyone else over me just because they gave me life. That does not obligate me to anything. I had to look at the real definition of love. I had to separate the issues. I have written a lot about this.
      Hugs, Darlene

  3. By: Christina Enevoldsen Posted: 19th September 2011

    Mindy,
    The whole loyalty issue was so hard to break away from because that’s how I was controlled. It was communicated in so many ways like, “You have to honor me since I’m your mother”. But now I see it as a major red flag in ANY relationship when I feel compelled to get away from someone. I’ve found that there is always a reason (and a very good reason when I really look at it) for wanting to get away.

    There are so many pieces to look at when it comes to parents, so I hope you read what Darlene has written on the topic. It’s far too much to explain here.
    Christina

  4. By: Mindy Posted: 17th September 2011

    Thanks for your comments…. The thing I’m wrestling with is the ‘loyalty’ to my mom for being there for me when I was a little girl and the sexual abuse came out. I mean, she was there when I had nightmares and took me to counseling…so I feel like I have a loyalty to her because of all she did. Does that make sense? But, I don’t really think she was there for me emotionally…. As far back as I can remember I’ve been the one to take care of her emotionally. There was one time when I was in middle school, I think, and I had been dealing with stuff from my dad (I think I was having dreams) and she found out that I was talking to someone else about it and not her. She was upset and crying, saying, “I was the one who was there for you, not them…I was there in the night when you had nightmares and when you had counseling…” So…I mean, do I have a loyalty to her? Do I ‘owe’ her anything because of that?

    • By: Darlene Ouimet Posted: 18th September 2011

      Hi Mindy,
      This was one of the hardest struggles that I had… that whole “do I own her” question. The fact that my mother fed and clothed me has nothing to do with what she didn’t do… She did somethings right but that doesn’t negate the damage caused by the rest of it. One had nothing to do with the other. For me I had to heal from the damage. I was stuck most of my life on “am I allowed to feel discounted by her when she tried… and she did better than her mother did with her” stuff. I had to look at ALL of it. I had to validate myself where I had never been validated. My mother was rarely there for me, but she does not agree. That is not my problem anymore.
      I really encourage you to read some of the mother daughter posts, and comments in this website. I think you will find a lot of comfort and encouragement in them.
      Hugs, Darlene

  5. By: Christina Enevoldsen Posted: 17th September 2011

    Hi Mindy,
    I agree with Darlene that you found the right website. Darlene writes about this topic a LOT and you’ll find some very helpful information and tons of validation.

    I used to wonder why having a relationship with my parents felt like such a burden. I know I’m a loving person, so why was it so hard to show my parents love? But I didn’t realize at that time that I was always the one who kept the relationship “loving”. From the time I was a child, I had the responsibility of performing a certain way for them to love me. In my adult life, I had the responsibility to perform for them too. This time, I had to prove I loved them. But all of it was based on lies. That isn’t what love is.

    The thing I’ve learned about abusers is that whatever I do, it’s NEVER enough. So they will never give permission to take care of myself and my obligations to them are never met. In their eyes, my purpose in life is to serve them and I’m never released from that service. So in answer to your question, “When can I walk out?”, I had to give myself permission to walk out since that would never come from my parents.

    Christina

  6. By: Mindy Posted: 17th September 2011

    I think I can relate to a lot of what you said, Christina. But, my mom has Borderline Personality Disorder and I’m only now beginning to see how that affects me and how it has affected my childhood. It also explains her behavior…most of it. But, it does not negate my pain. My dad sexually abused me when I was 3, and in my adult years, I’ve felt like I have an obligation to my mother because she always comes back with the argument, “I was there for you when you were in counseling…when you had nightmares…” Yes, in some sense she was there for me. I don’t really think she was there for me emotionally and physically. I don’t ever remember cuddling with her or her helping me to get back to joy when I was upset. Now that I’m an adult, if I don’t talk to her, I get the silent treatment. Last night she and I were texting and she asked if I keep in contact with my best friend. I’ve been away from home since July 1 and I know she misses me, but only in her selfish way. I texted back and said that I talk to my friend every once in a while. I never heard back from her. I suspected she either got busy and didn’t text me back, or was throwing a tantrum and giving me the silent treatment to make me feel bad for keeping in touch with my best friend, but not her. Where does the loyalty/obligation to her end? Do I have to take into consideration all she’s done for me? Is that a rule of being a daughter? Or is she just being manipulative again? When is it okay for me to walk out? I’ve taken care of her my entire life and now I need to take care of myself. So, when can I walk out?

    • By: Darlene Ouimet Posted: 17th September 2011

      Hi Mindy,
      Welcome to EFB! The quickest way to answer all your questions is to invite you to read all the posts in the “mother daughter category” (button at the top) and the the ones in the “family category” might help too.
      There is NO obligation in love. I have written tons about what you are commenting about here. You found the right website!
      Hugs, Darlene

  7. By: Christina Enevoldsen Posted: 7th August 2011

    Samantha,
    You bring up such great point about our relationship with our parents affecting our relationship with our children. For so many years, I’ve heard people make the connection between the generations, but it was always used as a warning like, “Be careful how you treat your parents or your kids might treat you that way”. But I’m not mistreating my parents by separating from them. I’m separating from them because they mistreated ME. I hope my children follow my example and separate from anyone who mistreats them and refuses to stop, even if that person is me. (I would never intentionally hurt them). My healthy boundaries affect my kids because I’m modeling treating myself with respect and love, which is the same way I want them to treat themselves and me. So I’m a better mother for getting away from my mother.

    Thanks for your comment!
    Christina

  8. By: Samantha Posted: 6th August 2011

    Hi Christina..thank you for sharing that story. I too have an abusive mother. I have decided that i need to walk away from her b/c she adds so much pain and suffering to my life and I don’t want to pass those traits to my children. I have tried and tried to reach out to her in letters and in words with no avail….she doesn’t listen…actually she is worse. she ignores me for months on end and then tries to get back in my life like nothing has happened. I am considering cutting her off and trying to move on with my life….thanks for sharing…

  9. By: Christina Enevoldsen Posted: 7th April 2011

    Layla,
    A lot about what you wrote resonated with me. Your comment, “my only way to survive and later to have an adult relationship with them was to, yes, abondon my inner child.”

    It breaks my heart to think about the big and small ways I’ve done that to my inner child. Thanks for sharing your story and feelings.

    Kimberly,
    That’s the conclusion that I came to as well, “I am the child, not the parent – I never asked for the roles to be reversed”. I used to think there was something wrong with me since I wasn’t protected and nurtured, but it was never an indication of something wrong with ME– it was all them. Thanks for sharing those words of truth!
    Christina

  10. By: Lynda ~ Coming Out Of The cRaZy Closet Posted: 3rd April 2011

    Dear Layla,

    I reread your comment over and over again, because I can relate to so much of what you have written. I, too, am in my 50s. My mother is still alive, but she is 76 and in poor health. The last time I saw her was in 2003, and the last time I spoke with her on the telephone was I 2006. I do not expect to ever see her or talk with her again, because every time I’ve let her back into my life, since I left home at the age of 16, sooner or later she always hurts me again with her hateful words and her lies.

    I have conflicted emotions about that, though. A part of me thinks that I should make a huge last effort to clear the air with her, before she is gone and it is forever too late. She was widowed a year ago, so now she is alone and may be more receptive…. but I just don’t feel like I have the energy or the strength to try again with her. Just the thought of it, exhausts me. It strikes me that trying to sort things out with my mother would be as difficult as trying to climb the highest mountain on my own strength.

    I don’t have any words of wisdom for you ~ I wish I did, then I would apply them to myself, too. All I know that works is what you already seem to be doing…. be real, telling yourself, and pertinent others, the truth, validating yourself, and meeting your own needs. Those are the things that I am doing, and it’s helped me quite a lot so far. Although, like you, I still have a ways to go to finding perfect peace and wellness.

    I have copied several of your sentences that resonated the most with me. Here they are:

    ‘The only way I could be in a relationship with her was to collude with the denial and take meds.’

    ‘I’m trying to meet my own unmet needs for the last 50 odd years, and releasing the pain is exhausting. It’s hard to deal with the contradictions as there were some good memories and values in my family, so there is sadness, and guilt too.’

    ‘On the one hand, I am trying to forgive them and have compassion for their own traumas, and accept that they were flawed and did their best. On the other hand, I struggle with anger, rage, and resentment, and mostly at still feeling powerless and trapped in the past.’

    ‘In some ways I feel more ‘real’ than ever, though I hope I reach a point where I’m more at peace and have come to terms with it all’

    ‘the hardest bit is probably getting over the anger at the lost years, and the confusion about my identity and experience’

    In my childhood home, the sexual abuse was much more covert, yet it was still a part of the whole sick dynamic, the sexual triangle you describe, and it contributed to all the other craziness and abuse, both verbal and physcial. Sometimes, when I try to look back and the whole picture of my childhood home, I believe that the sexual stuff may have been the root cause of everything else, that all the insanity, the verbal abuse, the physical violence, the threat of being killed by my mother… maybe all of it came from the heartbreak, the insanity, the jealousy, of that triangle. And of course, it was ALL MY FAULT that my father was sexually attracted to his little daughter…… I’m shaking my head now.

    Even before the sexual tension got so bad, though, my mother was always so jealous of me. My hair was blonde and curly, my mother’s hair was dark brown, almost black, and straight…. when we were out in public, when I was a tiny toddler, strangers would comment on my “pretty blonde curls.” Afterward, when no one but me was there to hear, my mother would say, “I don’t like blonde hair, it looks so washed out.” In so many petty ways my mother let me know that she was jealous of me and saw me as competition, first for my father, and then with her second husband, my stepfather, who was always a perfect gentleman around me and never once gave me the impression that he had ever so much as thought of me in a sexual way… but my mother was so insanely jealous of me, of my youth, my appearance, my sexuality, that she threw me out of the house at age 14, telling me that “no house is big enough for two women,” and warning me to “stay away” from her new husband. Then she lied and told people that she had to get rid of me, because I was trying to steal my stepfather away from her!

    My dad’s second wife, aware of my dad’s inappropriate interest in me, told me, when I was 13, that I was not ever welcome in their house. Then she told me that if I told my dad what she had said, that she would deny it, and he would believe I was a liar. This woman was the head nurse of the psychiatric ward where my dad had been committed for several months after he had almost killed my mother when I was 12… he did that, tried to kill mother, a few days after he had grabbed me, kissed me very hard and long on the lips, and then told me, “I don’t care if it’s wrong, I love you anyway. Don’t tell your mother….” I was confused. At 12, I didn’t understand about sex. I didn’t understand the long kiss, we grew up without a tv or movies, my dad, a strict preacher, didn’t allow that, so I didn’t know about romantic man-woman kissing. Why was is “wrong” for my dad to love me? Why was I not supposed to tell my mother? I was confused, and I felt creepy and scared. Then, a few weeks later, maybe sooner than that, my dad and mom got into such a bad fight, and he came so close to killing her that I thought she was dead.

    Then he met his second wife on the psych ward, and apparently he was using her as his own personal therapist, he must have told her about his sexual feelings for me, otherwise why would she have told me, immediately after they married, that I was never to step foot inside their house? I was 12, I was still very much a little girl at heart, I loved to play outside, I loved to play with my dolls, I didn’t even have any sexual feelings yet, I always dressed very modestly, I was shy, how was it MY FAULT, according to both my mother and then my stepmother, that my dad had sexual feelings for me????????

    Not long after my dad almost killed my mother, and then got involved with the head nurse in the psychiatric hospital, my mother became so depressed that she tried to gas us all to death. She tried it several times, but could not figure out how to override the safety shut-off on the gas furnace. So then she was going to drive us all off a cliff. “I brought you all into the world, so I have the right to take you out of it,” she told me. OH how I HATE when people make a “joke” about that. “I would be doing you all a favor, too, by killing you, because life is so hard.”

    Those were the things that broke me… my dad’s coming so close to killing my mother that I thought she was dead, until I saw that she was still alive… my mother trying to kill me and my 4 younger brothers and sisters while we slept in our beds…. and my mother’s jealous, hateful putdowns of me, which she did all my life, telling me, “I love you, of course, because you are my daughter, but I just don’t LIKE you.” Always saying those terribly hurtful words with a big smile on her face, like she was proud of the fact that she could manage to “love” someone as “unlikable” as me.

    I was always always ALWAYS meek and quiet and obedient, trying to win my parents’ love, trying to please them, trying not to rock the boat and cause another terrifying eruption of insanity.

    Layla, I, too, am angry most of all because of all the lost years. I am angry that most of my life was stolen from me, angry that what could have been a very good life, with my talents and abilities and intelligence, was a very painfully miserable wasted life, instead.

    But I don’t worry anymore about trying to forgive them. I believe that’s God’s job, to decide whether to forgive them or not. My job, today, is taking care of me, and doing whatever I can to continue to heal, so that I can make the best out of what is left of my life. I will be 58 on May 2. On the inside, I still feel like that 12-year-old little girl.

    Lynda
    PS~ My middle name is Lee, and I sometimes think of myself as ‘Leela.’ Leela, and Layla, we could be sisters. 😉

  11. By: Renee/A Resurrected Spirit Posted: 3rd April 2011

    Hi Layla,
    I can’t tell you what to do but I can tell you some of the things that helped me. First I had to be selfish and save my energy and sympathy for myself. Hard to do because you are trained not to take care of yourself. You have to be a voice for yourself. That also means standing up for all the broken peices within yourself. Family may or will turn they’re backs on you or call you a liar. They are your memories, this is your journey, not theirs. It is your truth, your life. I still have anger, shoot I thought I was all done with my journey of healing and just recently realized that Im not. I have excepted the Why me,I had no hero in my life EVER. You do have to except a lot, and it is a shame, none of us asked for this, it just is and we have to do the healing. we have to do the forgiving and we have to do the loving ourselves. We are strong, though we feel weak and lost. We learn to comfort ourselves and we learn to make our world normal as best we can. You are doing the best you can and if that is all you can do then you’ve done well. Safe journey, we are here if you need us.

  12. By: Kimberly Posted: 3rd April 2011

    Today on mother’s day I realized I have a biological mother
    That is she has conceived and given birth to me
    The emotional aspects were non existant
    Today it’s mother’s day and it’s been over a year since speaking to my father

    Today on mothers day I realized how the problems are with her and not me
    For too long I made myself responsible for things I shouldn’t have to bare at such a young age
    I am the child, not the parent – I never asked for the roles to be reversed
    Today it’s mother’s day I’ve decided to let go and be free

    Today on mother’s day I know I can get over the trauma
    I need to forgive, stop being angry and focus on me
    You can’t change the past but you can always make a better future
    Today it’s mother day and I can’t wait for the day when I’ll be a mama

    =)

  13. By: Layla Posted: 3rd April 2011

    My mother died in Nov 2010 aged 78. Id been in counselling for childhood sexual abuse by my father and had hardly seen her for the last year. Im in my 50s now and Id tried to get through my mothers barricades of denial in earlier years and ID always ended up depressed etc. The only way I coud be in a relatioship with her was to collude with the denial and take meds. In the last 2 years before her death tho Id stood up to her and 2 weeks before her death she spoke to me and aknowledged the abuse and said she respected me and believed in meand what I was doing to get well . When I visited her in hospital though she greeted me with Oh here comes the lovely Layla and she sounded angry and sarcastic. Shes gone back into denial and I realised all along she had anger at me and blamed me for the abuse and a lot of the conflict between my Dad and her over his sexuality. I realised as a child ID been caught in a sexual triangle and my only way to survive and later to have an adult relationship with them was to , yes, abondon my inner child. I find it so sad that somewhere inside her my mother knew this and along the way she denied that her heart too had been broken. So much blocked grief in any one family. Im grieving my mothers death but mostly because Im grieving I had never got the chance to have an honest relationship with her . Im trying to meet my own unmet needs for the last 50 odd years and releasing the pain is exhausting.Its hard to deal with the contradictions as their were some good memories and values in my family so there is sadness and guilt too.On the one hand IM trying to forgive them and have compassion for their own traumas and accept that they were flawed and did their best. On the other hand I struggle with anger, rage and resentment and at mostly still feel powerless and trapped in the past. In some ways I feel more ‘real’ than ever though and hope I reach a point where Im more at peace and have come to terms with it all as Id like to be able to work and have a partner again. However The hardest bit is probably getting over the anger at the lost years and the confusion about my identity and experience.At times Im scared that some grief just cant be resolved and that not all conflict can be released and I will be in the wilderness for ever. Sorry if IVe rambled but writing this has helped me to understand myself a bit and I would appreciate any guidance from anyone who has been where I am now

  14. By: Renee/A Resurrested Spirit Posted: 2nd April 2011

    Hello everyone!
    Thank you for your kind words. We are back but just a pop in pop out until we can get into group and counseling. A little update, We spiraled down. I was explaining to my sister how our family worked and we saw for the first time the magnitude of distruction. I and my doctor are at odds (he perscribed meds for me but didn’t give them to me. By law he can not rewrite a perscription)No Idea where it went, we beleive he sat it down some where and it got misfiled somewhere. We can’t get into therapy without the meds. We won’t take the chance because we’ve done this before. We have to have all our ducks in a row before we start any sessions. It is just the safest way for us.

  15. By: Christina Enevoldsen Posted: 2nd April 2011

    Carol,
    It took me a long time to unlock my feelings related to my mom and childhood. It was one step at a time. Setting boundaries with my mom was actually the first step. I think that gave me the sense of protection that I needed to feel safe opening that door. Plus, setting boundaries was affirming to me. It was a declaration that I love myself. That told ME that I was safe with me and could trust myself to take care of me once those emotions surfaced.

    Renee,
    Welcome to the Emerging From Broken community! A lot of what you wrote resonated with me. Your family’s rule, “Don’t get caught” made me think of my own family’s rule, “Don’t tell”. Abuse was perfectly fine, but talking about it was evil. So backwards! I’m glad we’re both recognizing and living in our own truth! I’m glad you joined us here!
    Christina

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