The Truth Hurts. ?>

The Truth Hurts.

{Originally published 18/07/11 on thehesitanthousewife.blogspot.com}

My mother and I have a very difficult relationship. One of the things I struggle with the most, as an adult, is when mum wants to talk to me about ‘how I make her feel’. Always, she wants me to listen, as she tells me all the things I do wrong by her. That I judge her. That I don’t support her. What a bad daughter I’ve been. A big reason why I don’t want to talk about this with her, is because it’s crap. I am the only person who has stood by her, through everything. I’ve looked after my brother and sister, through numerous breakdowns. I’ve been appointed their guardian, when she was committed. I was appointed her guardian, so she could be released from hospital. I’ve kicked her loser boyfriends out of the house when she’s asked me. But all that is not why I don’t want to talk to her. The reason I don’t want to talk to her, is because I’m scared of what I will say. I’m scared that one day, she will push me so far, that I will tell her how I really feel. This is what I would say, if I ever allowed myself to say it:
You broke me. I was a baby, a child, you were all I knew. My whole world was you. And you hated me. You told me I’d ruined your life, that nobody loved me. I was a little girl, and you told me that I was stupid, I was useless, I was horrible. You called me ‘The monster I created’. Did you think I had forgotten that? You said I was pathetic, that my father hated me, that I had no friends. I told you once, that I hated it when you said I was pathetic, so that became your ‘favorite’ insult. You blamed me for everything that went wrong in your life. It was my fault when you and dad fought. It was my fault when you had breakdowns, and tried to kill yourself. It was my fault, it was all my fault. I grew up to hate myself. I was nothing, I was useless, I was pathetic. If my own parents didn’t love me, then who could? So I let other people treat me like crap too, because that is what I deserved. I spent years in relationships with people who put me down, who insulted me, who abused me, because that’s what I deserved. What kind of person was I, that my own parents didn’t love me? Obviously there was something very deeply wrong with me, obviously I was unlovable. Eventually I turned that pain and self loathing on to myself, and I hurt myself. Badly. Because that pain was easier than the pain that I felt inside. The pain you caused. I was dark, and broken for many, many years. I hated you, at times, but hated myself more. And that is worse, so much worse.
These are things that I will never say to my mum. How could I say that to her? Because I love her. And I look at my daughter now, and I imagine, how I would feel, if she said those things to me? If I had made her feel that way? I couldn’t live, if I had made my daughter feel what I have felt. I think that my mother has felt the things she made me feel. I think that she has felt unloved, and worthless, and alone in this world. And I truly believe that she never intended to make me feel the same way.
So I will not have that discussion with her. Instead, I will be different. I will tell my daughter every day that I love her, that she is special, that she is important, that she is the most beautiful, clever amazing little girl I have ever met. I will not speak hate to my mother, I will speak love to my daughter.

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6 thoughts on “The Truth Hurts.

  1. To have moved beyond what you have experienced, to show the insight you do in this post and to not repeat the mistakes of others in your life is truly inspiring. Your daughter is incredibly lucky to have you as her mother.

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