If I could
These are the words I would say if I could, but know I never will. I think it will help to at least put them out there.
Dear
Let's cover the recent stuff shall we? I delivered your needs, you left me a voicemail. It was snarky, it said it was a shame I didn't have time to go see you. I actually couldn't go see you. My anxiety attacks when I do that are pretty brutal. Nobody sees me sit in the car for sometimes half an hour building up to go in for mostly not as long as it took me to put those anxieties away to walk in. Nobody sees me run to the car when I leave. Or if they do they just think I'm busy.
So I asked someone to intervene. I can't remember doing that. Ever. I asked them to tell you I wouldn't be in - for a while - not forever - just a while. I trust them implicitly. I know they told you the right thing in the right way. You told them the voicemail was to tell me someone had fallen over! No you didn't mention that. You snarked and shamed.
Next a voicemail to thank me for the next delivery. Guess what? I was so calm when I delivered them because I had no intention of walking in the hallway! I was so calm. I spoke sweetly to staff, and strolled out feeling really good. Slightly guilty, but only for feeling good. Your voicemail gave no hint of the information you'd been given. You asked me to go in, to sit down and talk, and to explain what was wrong with me. Add in the "only child" line and tacked on the end in a pained tone "I love you" but then no goodbye.
Well we won't be having that chat. That chat has been attempted at various ages for close to 50 years. None of my feelings or thoughts are given airplay. None of my experiences are validated and mostly and the most difficult part is, none of my memories are agreed with. I become so tongue tied, so emotional that I sit with my arms folded and nothing comes out of my mouth. You have ridiculed every emotion I have tried to express to you my whole life. That's why I gave up. That's why I began the process of grieving the mother I deserved instead of the mother I got.
You have never given me explanations of behaviour, or even honest answers about your life's experiences. I know you resent me, that's been obvious since the beginning.
So questions I'd like to ask but can't:
Did you have another child?
When?
What was their name?
What did you do with them?
Who knew?
Where would your life have taken you if you hadn't had me?
Do you know why you are so jealous of others?
Did you ever realise what damage you were doing to me?
Things that I wish I could get apologies for:
Not taking me to Pop's funeral.
Not allowing me to have personal boundaries
Never asking me my feelings
Not validating my experiences and emotions
Setting me up to ridicule by not providing me with the basics for school -Yr 8 uniform!
Isolating me from friends to increase my dependency on you
Smothering me with negative emotion and dependency
Not being honest with me about Dad's condition until I had tension headaches at age 8 and thought I was dying of a brain tumour when listening to the conversation with you & the doctor - "Does she know?" "No she's too young" "She needs to know"
Calling me a range of negative names from Fish Lips, Petal Pie and Gloria even after dozens of requests to stop
Using the phrase "Just Jokin' Joyce" to invalidate any abuse.
What bought this whole new no contact period about for me?
Finding out that I had done such an impressive job of hiding all my experiences and emotions from my own family to protect you that I felt betrayed when they gave me new information on Christmas Day. I felt like someone had been honoured with a name I associate with pain, abuse and negativity. I felt personally affronted even though it actually had nothing to do with me. And I had no way of expressing that.
You see I struggle so badly with expressing any negative emotion because every time I did that with the person I should have been able to I was shut down. I was simply there to serve your needs. A servant both physically, emotionally and financially. A victim of narcissistic abuse. I suddenly saw all the effects this has had. None of them are good. I've defended lifestyles and actions that I should have called out years ago.
You use the same lines that I feel trapped by every time. That you don't know what happened, that we were always close. Let's unpack that bag shall we? You do know what happened, you were there. Hell, you even apologised for smothering me in June 2007. I remember when you did that. It was a moment of clarity I thought at the time. I thought you were finally admitting to what you'd done. In hindsight and I fell for it hook, line & sinker it was so I'd pay for, arrange and sort you moving down here to continue the abuse. Yep, fell for it again. The trigger point to make me do something? Mention Dad. This time it was thanking me for what I'd done for him! Wow that was huge. No acknowledgement that you contributed to his illness by controlling every aspect of his life.
Poor Dad. Wow. I saw a cartoon one day that showed a man with his therapist and his wife answering all the questions. You did that. You never let him talk to anyone professionally about his life experiences, you just labelled it all bullshit and eventually his mind snapped. You controlled his drugs, his life, his mind and you took every ounce of dignity and self esteem from him. You almost succeeded with me too.
And we were always close were we? From 8 in Dr Osler's surgery you lost my trust. I lost my respect for you and I started to question. By 11 I wanted to move to Grandma's to live. By 16 I begged her to let me. Her response was "It would upset her (you). She's a street angel and a house devil" - I saw what a loyal loving mother does, but I lost a part of my grandmother that day too. By 17 I was all set to move to live with a friend, battling in my head all the conversations and drama that would be attached to that move. Then the job with the postoffice came up and I saw it as salvation. I blitzed every damned exam and test to make sure I got a good posting.
I was offered a metro post. I swapped. I took Kalgoorlie! I had to get out of your grip. If I didn't I seriously thought I would go insane. I knew for 3 weeks before I told you that I was going there. I wasn't going to open up to that can of emotional trauma any time sooner than I had to. Get to Kalgoorlie and open up to people, I still have those friends who love me unconditionally.
You wrote to me every single fucking day. I was a laughing stock with staff. "Here's Mummy's letter". I opened the first 2 or 3, felt physically pained and sick. threw them out. After that I have no idea what you said as they were torn and binned. First trip to see you at Christmas and you'd tied a yellow ribbon to the tree and sang "Tie a Yellow Ribbon round the old oak tree". What an unhealthy obsession. I cringed. I asked my friend if I could stay in the car. But I wanted to see Dad and Grandma.
So when you say we were always close and you don't know what happened? Wrong on all counts. If you did what you did because of some mental pain, perhaps through losing another child, perhaps for all manner of odd reasons you never told me about, then I forgive. If you did what you did for any other reason, I forgive that too, but for the first time I'm having to accept how much damage that did to me. I kept that lid on for 54 years of my life. I took that lid off Christmas Day. It's been a long slow process.
But victims of abuse are always slow to open up. That's because we fear down to the core of our being that everything we say to protect ourselves or to own that abuse will just feed the abuser more material that will come swinging back around and injure us more. So we stay silent because we might lose friends or family who believe the abuser more than their victim.
I suffer greatly from impostor syndrome. I know people say and perhaps think I'm a good person, that I have talents that they love me for who I am. But my lack of self confidence, lack of self belief and lack of self love that all stem from not feeling them from the mother I got in the luck of the draw outweigh all of those. I wait constantly for them to call me out, to tell me that they don't actually feel those good things about me. That feeling unloved by a mother affects every relationship forever. I've said to people that "feeling" appreciated, proud of, loved and "being" those things are very very different beasts. My husband and kids will tell me til the cows come home that I "am" those things, but I don't "feel" it. And that's a tragedy in itself. The loss I feel is greater than the loss of a bad mum, it's the loss of who I could have been if I'd discovered and dealt with this pain when I was younger.
There comes a point though when that passes. I've reached that point. I know people will say I'm doing the wrong thing because of your age and condition. I know people will say you've done the best you could. I know they will say you love me and I know all of those things will be triggers for me. They will cause some guilt. But I've just stopped.
It's over 20 years since I changed my name by deed poll. My legal name is just a first and a last. No middle one. It helped a bit at the time, but not enough. I replaced Dad's headstone to show his actual name, not with the addition he created to appease. I've been very active in trying to heal my wounds, but somehow a lot were still hiding. They were deeper than I ever imagined.
I will continue to do my duty. Yes I am the only child. I will honour my grandmother and my father and continue to do what is needed. There's no emotion left though, no feelings. I'd always thought I could just wait for "that day" but I got pushed into action on Christmas Day. I'm speed dating the demons attached to your name so that I don't resent anyone else with it.
I've rid my house of any last signs of you, of things you owned. All gone now. That feels better. I stood on a jetty today and threw one last remaining item into the water and blessed both it and you. I'm not nasty, bitter or twisted. I'm just finished. So I asked for a blessing of peace on you as I stood by the water.
I meant the blessing. I hope that you pass on in peace and have happiness in your next life.
Dear
Let's cover the recent stuff shall we? I delivered your needs, you left me a voicemail. It was snarky, it said it was a shame I didn't have time to go see you. I actually couldn't go see you. My anxiety attacks when I do that are pretty brutal. Nobody sees me sit in the car for sometimes half an hour building up to go in for mostly not as long as it took me to put those anxieties away to walk in. Nobody sees me run to the car when I leave. Or if they do they just think I'm busy.
So I asked someone to intervene. I can't remember doing that. Ever. I asked them to tell you I wouldn't be in - for a while - not forever - just a while. I trust them implicitly. I know they told you the right thing in the right way. You told them the voicemail was to tell me someone had fallen over! No you didn't mention that. You snarked and shamed.
Next a voicemail to thank me for the next delivery. Guess what? I was so calm when I delivered them because I had no intention of walking in the hallway! I was so calm. I spoke sweetly to staff, and strolled out feeling really good. Slightly guilty, but only for feeling good. Your voicemail gave no hint of the information you'd been given. You asked me to go in, to sit down and talk, and to explain what was wrong with me. Add in the "only child" line and tacked on the end in a pained tone "I love you" but then no goodbye.
Well we won't be having that chat. That chat has been attempted at various ages for close to 50 years. None of my feelings or thoughts are given airplay. None of my experiences are validated and mostly and the most difficult part is, none of my memories are agreed with. I become so tongue tied, so emotional that I sit with my arms folded and nothing comes out of my mouth. You have ridiculed every emotion I have tried to express to you my whole life. That's why I gave up. That's why I began the process of grieving the mother I deserved instead of the mother I got.
You have never given me explanations of behaviour, or even honest answers about your life's experiences. I know you resent me, that's been obvious since the beginning.
So questions I'd like to ask but can't:
Did you have another child?
When?
What was their name?
What did you do with them?
Who knew?
Where would your life have taken you if you hadn't had me?
Do you know why you are so jealous of others?
Did you ever realise what damage you were doing to me?
Things that I wish I could get apologies for:
Not taking me to Pop's funeral.
Not allowing me to have personal boundaries
Never asking me my feelings
Not validating my experiences and emotions
Setting me up to ridicule by not providing me with the basics for school -Yr 8 uniform!
Isolating me from friends to increase my dependency on you
Smothering me with negative emotion and dependency
Not being honest with me about Dad's condition until I had tension headaches at age 8 and thought I was dying of a brain tumour when listening to the conversation with you & the doctor - "Does she know?" "No she's too young" "She needs to know"
Calling me a range of negative names from Fish Lips, Petal Pie and Gloria even after dozens of requests to stop
Using the phrase "Just Jokin' Joyce" to invalidate any abuse.
What bought this whole new no contact period about for me?
Finding out that I had done such an impressive job of hiding all my experiences and emotions from my own family to protect you that I felt betrayed when they gave me new information on Christmas Day. I felt like someone had been honoured with a name I associate with pain, abuse and negativity. I felt personally affronted even though it actually had nothing to do with me. And I had no way of expressing that.
You see I struggle so badly with expressing any negative emotion because every time I did that with the person I should have been able to I was shut down. I was simply there to serve your needs. A servant both physically, emotionally and financially. A victim of narcissistic abuse. I suddenly saw all the effects this has had. None of them are good. I've defended lifestyles and actions that I should have called out years ago.
You use the same lines that I feel trapped by every time. That you don't know what happened, that we were always close. Let's unpack that bag shall we? You do know what happened, you were there. Hell, you even apologised for smothering me in June 2007. I remember when you did that. It was a moment of clarity I thought at the time. I thought you were finally admitting to what you'd done. In hindsight and I fell for it hook, line & sinker it was so I'd pay for, arrange and sort you moving down here to continue the abuse. Yep, fell for it again. The trigger point to make me do something? Mention Dad. This time it was thanking me for what I'd done for him! Wow that was huge. No acknowledgement that you contributed to his illness by controlling every aspect of his life.
Poor Dad. Wow. I saw a cartoon one day that showed a man with his therapist and his wife answering all the questions. You did that. You never let him talk to anyone professionally about his life experiences, you just labelled it all bullshit and eventually his mind snapped. You controlled his drugs, his life, his mind and you took every ounce of dignity and self esteem from him. You almost succeeded with me too.
And we were always close were we? From 8 in Dr Osler's surgery you lost my trust. I lost my respect for you and I started to question. By 11 I wanted to move to Grandma's to live. By 16 I begged her to let me. Her response was "It would upset her (you). She's a street angel and a house devil" - I saw what a loyal loving mother does, but I lost a part of my grandmother that day too. By 17 I was all set to move to live with a friend, battling in my head all the conversations and drama that would be attached to that move. Then the job with the postoffice came up and I saw it as salvation. I blitzed every damned exam and test to make sure I got a good posting.
I was offered a metro post. I swapped. I took Kalgoorlie! I had to get out of your grip. If I didn't I seriously thought I would go insane. I knew for 3 weeks before I told you that I was going there. I wasn't going to open up to that can of emotional trauma any time sooner than I had to. Get to Kalgoorlie and open up to people, I still have those friends who love me unconditionally.
You wrote to me every single fucking day. I was a laughing stock with staff. "Here's Mummy's letter". I opened the first 2 or 3, felt physically pained and sick. threw them out. After that I have no idea what you said as they were torn and binned. First trip to see you at Christmas and you'd tied a yellow ribbon to the tree and sang "Tie a Yellow Ribbon round the old oak tree". What an unhealthy obsession. I cringed. I asked my friend if I could stay in the car. But I wanted to see Dad and Grandma.
So when you say we were always close and you don't know what happened? Wrong on all counts. If you did what you did because of some mental pain, perhaps through losing another child, perhaps for all manner of odd reasons you never told me about, then I forgive. If you did what you did for any other reason, I forgive that too, but for the first time I'm having to accept how much damage that did to me. I kept that lid on for 54 years of my life. I took that lid off Christmas Day. It's been a long slow process.
But victims of abuse are always slow to open up. That's because we fear down to the core of our being that everything we say to protect ourselves or to own that abuse will just feed the abuser more material that will come swinging back around and injure us more. So we stay silent because we might lose friends or family who believe the abuser more than their victim.
I suffer greatly from impostor syndrome. I know people say and perhaps think I'm a good person, that I have talents that they love me for who I am. But my lack of self confidence, lack of self belief and lack of self love that all stem from not feeling them from the mother I got in the luck of the draw outweigh all of those. I wait constantly for them to call me out, to tell me that they don't actually feel those good things about me. That feeling unloved by a mother affects every relationship forever. I've said to people that "feeling" appreciated, proud of, loved and "being" those things are very very different beasts. My husband and kids will tell me til the cows come home that I "am" those things, but I don't "feel" it. And that's a tragedy in itself. The loss I feel is greater than the loss of a bad mum, it's the loss of who I could have been if I'd discovered and dealt with this pain when I was younger.
There comes a point though when that passes. I've reached that point. I know people will say I'm doing the wrong thing because of your age and condition. I know people will say you've done the best you could. I know they will say you love me and I know all of those things will be triggers for me. They will cause some guilt. But I've just stopped.
It's over 20 years since I changed my name by deed poll. My legal name is just a first and a last. No middle one. It helped a bit at the time, but not enough. I replaced Dad's headstone to show his actual name, not with the addition he created to appease. I've been very active in trying to heal my wounds, but somehow a lot were still hiding. They were deeper than I ever imagined.
I will continue to do my duty. Yes I am the only child. I will honour my grandmother and my father and continue to do what is needed. There's no emotion left though, no feelings. I'd always thought I could just wait for "that day" but I got pushed into action on Christmas Day. I'm speed dating the demons attached to your name so that I don't resent anyone else with it.
I've rid my house of any last signs of you, of things you owned. All gone now. That feels better. I stood on a jetty today and threw one last remaining item into the water and blessed both it and you. I'm not nasty, bitter or twisted. I'm just finished. So I asked for a blessing of peace on you as I stood by the water.
I meant the blessing. I hope that you pass on in peace and have happiness in your next life.
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