After a lifetime of gaslighting and verbal abuse from my mother, I have decided to stop speaking to her. If this proves too hard and I break down and engage, I will forgive my needy child self and try again.

This is the hardest thing I have ever done, and I have done many hard things. My mother has been my obsession and my greatest wound. She is my pusher and I am her addict. I  tell myself that I’ll have just this one more hit, then I’ll stop; but I feel powerless to stop, my need for her poison bigger than my need for self- preservation.

  All I ever wanted in this life was to be seen by her. Really seen and acknowledged and taken in.  I get it now. I get it in my body, where it counts the most. She can not ever and will not ever be the mother I have longed for. No one can understand this obsession unless they themselves have experienced the same.

I feel a little embarrassed talking about this here, worried that people will judge. Sixty years old and still obsessed with getting her mother to love her? My rationale for sharing is my hope that this blog will reach at least one person with a similar mother, who will then feel understood. 

For today, I am free. Still raw, still trying to integrate what I know in my body to sync up with the story I have told myself in my mind, the fairytale where the princess (me) wakes up to find that her mother was captured by an evil queen and only my being perfect would free her from the spell. I’ve tried to be perfect but I was never perfect enough to break that damn spell. My mother of her own volition chose to act unkindly. No evil queen needed.

Today I must say “Mother, no more stomping with your dirty black pointed boots on my just cleaned yellow tiled floor, good bye, haste la vista,  please close my door on your way out’ .

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