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I have one hang up that I am unable to resolve which is my relationship with my mother. I have cut my mother and her entire side of the family out of my life for over 2 years now, but it is not an easy thing to be at peace with. So, I have wracked my brain on it over and over again and tried to figure out if it was justified, or if I am just an ungrateful ass&*le. Asking friends doesn’t work because either they had a good upbringing and can’t relate or it’s too much information to unload on them. I’ve tried a therapist and, although it was useful, I think they are professionally bound to say the right things and make you feel good as opposed being totally honest. I am old enough to know a lot about life myself and the way things should be, but on this matter with my mother, I am unable to be objective because as her son it is impossible for me to be unbiased one way or the other. This is something that has weighed on me my whole life and I can’t seem to sort it out in my head and heart. It blocks my ability to focus on my life and be healthy and happy.
I think I have to start with my mother to get the full picture because it is a chain of events. My mother was born on a farm in Montana to Russian immigrant parents in 1948. She was the last of four children and I am told she was an unexpected pregnancy since my grandmother was already older. My mother was doted on by her father as the baby in the family. Unfortunately her father died of a heart attack when she was about 3 years old. From listening to her over the years, losing her father seems to have been a difficult experience for her. She also claims that her mother didn’t really want her or show her love. I personally never found my grandmother to be this way, but I obviously can’t speak on their relationship back then. In all the years I knew my grandmother I never saw her lose her temper once. My grandmother remarried and that did not go well I guess. Due to behavior problems, or some other reasons I am not sure of, my mother was sent to live with an uncle for a short period of time when she was still quite young. This also seems to have been a traumatic experience for her. Furthermore, it seems she did not like her stepfather. There was also a time that my grandmother was mentally ill. She was actually in an institution and I was told by my aunt that one day she tore off all her clothes and ran outside. So, something definitely was going on there. Her second marriage did not work out and they divorced. My grandmother never remarried after that and her life subsequently went quite smoothly as she dedicated herself to her family, her bible and her church. There has also been some mental illness in the family generally speaking. I have cousins who take medications for depression or anxiety. I myself have suffered from a general melancholic state for quite some time and two more serious bouts of depression. As for my mother, I’m pretty sure there must be something wrong there as well. My uncle (who has been a good Christian farmer, salt of the earth kind of guy and married all his life with three kids) once said while across the table from me, “I know my sister. She will kick you in the teeth if she gets the chance.” It kinda shocked me to hear her own brother say this about my mother. My mother has resentment towards her brother, sister in law and her whole family history in general. She does not speak well of her brother, but they have maintained a superficial relationship throughout the years. She has been on non-speaking terms with various family and friends on and off at different times.
When my mother was about 17 years old she left the farm and moved to Seattle for a couple of years. After that, for some reason, she took off to New York far away from her family. When she was 20 years old she got pregnant with a guy at a party. She does not know his name. She asked my uncle and his wife to take the baby but they said no. Ultimately, she had a daughter and gave the baby up for adoption. She felt unsupported by her family and deeply resents it to the present day. Three months after the birth of her daughter she was pregnant again with me. She met my father at a wedding. I do not believe the relationship was terribly meaningful, if at all, because my aunt on my father’s side (Mary) never knew about my mother other than briefly meeting her at the wedding. My mother left New York and went back to Montana. My father never did anything about that nor did my mother seem to care about keeping in touch with him except for a letter she wrote.
While my mother was pregnant with me, she did write a letter to my father and told him that she was pregnant. I do not have that letter, nor do I know its content other than my aunt Mary telling me that she remembers my mother said “I’m glad we had the chance to paint the town red.” Mary remembers this one part of the letter because they are Greek immigrants and at the time she didn’t know what the phrase meant so it stuck in her head. Mary and my father (George) went to see a lawyer and he told them not to do anything about it. So that is what they did and there was never any contact ever again. There is also a letter I found that my mother wrote when I was 2 years old to a guy in New York that she knew. In that letter, she says that she called George’s house to ask for his whereabouts because she couldn’t get him out of her head and needed to talk to him one last time. She says in the letter that Mary answered the phone and told her that George had gone out west and they weren’t sure where he was. However, when I asked my aunt Mary about this phone call she says that she never received such a call from my mother. So this is very strange. I would tend to suspect that my mother is lying more than Mary is lying because the guy she was writing to was some sort of romantic interest as well and she wanted him to come for a vacation out west at the time. My thought was that perhaps she was trying to make the guy jealous or nervous enough to motivate him to go out west and join her. However, this is just speculation on my part. I have no reason to doubt Mary I guess. She has been married to the same man her whole life, has two grown children, has many grand children and has treated her own family and me really well. She seems nice, no nonsense and perfectly sane. Then again, is it possible that she was protecting her little brother George from my mother? She has a great memory but only remembers that one part from the letter? Why didn’t they reply to her letter? Why were they never curious about the accusation over the years? Why was there no follow up? I can imagine why, but I do not know for sure. My mother always said that my father and his family weren’t really interested, but when I met them they said they had no idea about me and if they had known about me my father would have helped raise me. His children and his family and friends all say he was a nice guy and it does seem to be the case. Somebody has to be lying though.
When I was about 3 years old my mother got married. It seems that this provided some financial stability. Previous to this she must have either been on welfare or getting help from her mother to take care of me. I’m not sure, but she definitely was an unskilled, uneducated single mother at the time. The marriage only lasted a year or two I believe. It was tumultuous. I have vague memories of my mother coming into my bedroom at night crying and a hole punched in a wall. There were some good memories too. I had a lion costume for halloween, rode a bouncy horse, had a cool birthday party with my friends, went skiing and had a puppy. My mother would also sometimes caress my face until I fell asleep.
From the age of 4 or 5 years old to the age of 8 or 9 I do not have much memory. Vague memories for some reason. My mother went to school to become a seamstress. I can remember being left with other people in the day. There was a native woman who used to make me bannock and a black family that I stayed with a lot. I also remember going to a woman’s home everyday for lunch and watching the Flinstones. There was also a three week to one month period when I was about 6 or 7 where my mother went to Europe with a friend to travel. I stayed with some family during that time. That didn’t go so well. I got bullied and one night ended up peeing in the face of one of the kids living there. His father was not too pleased to say the least. I did have some behavior problems in school as well. I was a class clown. Short attention span. Got kicked out of class a lot. Absenteeism. Inconsistent grades. Anyways, my mother, with the help of my grandmother, managed to open her own business. So, I would go to school and then walk over to her shop for lunch in the back and then go back to school. I don’t remember too clearly, but after school I must have either gone to her shop, home or ran around the neighborhood with my friends.
The first instance of violence from my mother that I remember was when she hit me over the head with a large brush. I think it broke but I can’t remember for sure. I would have been about 8 at the time. I could test her patience no doubt and she would be pushed to the point where she would strike out at me. My mother definitely has a temper. Anybody that knows her would say so. Around this time she started dating a guy who would eventually become my second step father (Jeff). I remember walking in on them having sex one time. That was so weird. I was downstairs and went up to ask her about something. I can’t remember what. I opened the door and accidentally walked in on them in the act. These things all seem so weird and so long ago that you wonder if they really happened. I know walking in on parents having sex can happen to anyone growing up, but what I found strange is that nothing was ever discussed about it afterwards. There was no explanation, no checking to see if I was ok. This was not my father. It was some guy I barely knew at all. This is the case with all the bad stuff that happened. There was never any discussion of the event the next day, week or ever really. Life just went on.
A couple of years passed and when I was 10 years old one of the most memorable events occurred. My mother married Jeff. Things were going well with her shop. She worked a lot. I was kept busy with Boy Scouts, had a Big Brother on the weekends, sports and summer camps. One day my mother and Jeff and I went out for a drive in the countryside. We were in a big camping park area and they were driving in a truck and I was following behind them on my bicycle. They went up this large hill. Of course, it took me longer to get to the top. When I reached the top, I could not see them. They must have been out of sight, otherwise I would have followed them. It must have been longer than a few minutes because I got upset. I became angry and rebellious, got on my bike and left. I rode my bicycle back to the city. This was probably forty or more kilometers. I arrived to the city by nightfall and ended up going to a friend’s house. They called my mother and Jeff came and picked me up. When I got home, my mother sent me up to my room. After some time she came into the room and attacked me. I was in my bed and she was in a rage yelling and screaming and cussing like a maniac telling me to never ever do that again. She grabbed me by the hair and hit my head against the bed several times and spat in my face. She was totally out of control. My mother has lost her mind like this several times in her life. It’s like she becomes a demon and is possessed or something. Totally unhinged. I now realize that it was this day that I learned I really needed to be careful around her. Perhaps that day I learned to fear her, not love her. It is hard to explain what she becomes in words, so I found this clip on youtube that is very much like how she would get during these breakdowns:
At the age of twelve we moved out to the west coast. From the age of 12-17 the marriage was rocky. There was a lot of screaming, fighting, door slamming and chaos. I remember seeing my mother with a black eye once. She said she hit her head on a door, but I’m almost positive it was after a fight. I didn’t have a good experience with Jeff. He was really sarcastic and kinda cruel. He grew up in a sh#*ty situation himself it seems. Along with my mother, he probably had his own issues he was dealing with. I can remember he used to pick his nose and flick it at me as a joke. I don’t think he actually did it. It was meant as a joke but you never knew. But it was gross and this guy was in his 30s by then. Anyways. I never brought friends over. I was out of the house as much as possible playing sports after school. I brought a girlfriend home once when I was about 14 or 15 while we were out walking her dog. Jeff was home and I introduced them and he asked which one was the dog. That sucked. Another time, I can remember we were driving in his truck and there was a drunk indian guy walking on the highway holding up traffic. As Jeff drove by he swerved towards him and hit the guy down with his truck mirror and just kept going. I think he maybe surprised himself, but he definitely swerved to do it and he did not stop. There was some road rage too. I can remember racing after people who had cut him off. He would get out and try to rip the driver’s side window off their car to get at them. I also remember when I was about 14 or 15 being on vacation at the beach with them and in the hotel one night they had sex in the bed next to me. They tried to keep it quiet, but by that age I had an idea of what was going on and just put the pillows over my head. Jeff never beat me because I think he knew my mother would not put up with it. Throughout the years she would strike out at me when she got angry until I got too big. I can still remember the day she hit me and hurt herself doing it. After that, it was just a lot of screaming and yelling although she would throw things too. This wouldn’t happen for no reason on a daily basis, but only when she got impatient, frustrated or angry with me. I don’t recall having any serious bruising or marks on me from it and it would only last as long as her temper or my ability to get away and then a couple days of the silent treatment would follow. There was only one instance when Jeff did grab me by the neck and held me up against a wall but it didn’t go any further than that. They were divorced by the time I was 17 and it was one of the best things I had ever heard.
Through all these years I would occasionally ask my mother about my father. I was probably about ten years old when I first asked her. She told me his name, told me he was Greek and that we had the same hands. I had an identity crisis growing up because my mother’s side is Russian. They are all blue eyed and blonde hair. They all look alike. I look like none of them. I am dark. Dark hair, dark eyes, darker skin. So, when I looked in the mirror I always wondered why. My mother avoided the topic as much as possible. She would be vague, give short answers or cry. For some reason, I always felt like I was imposing on her when I asked about it. Another weird thing I can remember is that when I was about 19 or 20 I told her I didn’t want to kiss her on the lips anymore. It just felt weird to me by then. She hated that. She resented it and she kept resenting it because she would refer to it years later. It seemed to hurt her feelings, but I just didn’t feel comfortable doing that anymore for some reason and preferred to just hug or a kiss on the cheek.
I did well playing football. It was my life and my dream to play the game. I got a scholarship to play football when I finished high school. My mother reluctantly let me go but did help pay for my first year of school although I also had a scholarship. The rest of the years of my education were funded through football scholarships, student loans and part time work. I got a degree in English Literature. Football was the most important thing to me at the time and I loved it. I played hundreds of games from the age of 12, but my mother only attended one. Well one and half I guess. Almost two. At the time I didn’t really care I guess, I just wanted to play. But looking back on it I feel it is unfortunate and kinda weird she wasn’t interested in something that was so important to her child. She worked a lot.
At the age of 21 my mother told me I was not an only child and that I had a half sister she had given up for adoption. This was a shock to me. It felt like I had been lied to all my life. But I processed it and felt it was an issue between her and her daughter. I had my own lost family member to figure out. I legally changed my last name to my father’s surname. This was due to my identity crisis. It was all I had of him. There were no photos. I once asked my mother if she had ANY photos of him. She said she had some in a box in her brother’s house out on the farm, but that they tore their house down with the photos in it without telling her. I then said that maybe it was possible my uncle and aunt had actually kept the photos and had them somewhere and that I was going to ask them. She then backtracked and said that she had thrown them out herself.
I first tried to contact my father when I was 21 by writing letters to all the men with his name in the New York area. None of them were the right guy. Life went on. At 22 I didn’t talk to my mother for a year. I was angry about everything that had happened. It hurt her that I did this. But I eventually decided to forgive and forget and move forward. By this time I had finished my undergraduate degree and moved to Argentina to teach English down there. When I was 24 I invited her down to show her the country. I thought it would be a good chance for us to mend. But it did not go well. We were in the zocalo in Buenos Aires and there was a political march going on. I asked her if I could go and take a few photos and she said ok. I was only gone for maybe ten minutes and when I came back to her she was livid. She was angry about how I had left her there all alone for so long and that somebody could have hurt her and that I did this on purpose because I hate her for everything. Total meltdown and hitting me in public. I felt like we were back to square one. I finished the rest of the trip emotionally distant with her.
I stayed in Argentina until I was 30 years old. I had a lot of fun, learned the language and did a master’s degree. I returned to the U.S. to stay with my mother for a year after graduating and worked to pay off some of my student loans. That was rocky as well. She had one big melt down and a bunch of other weird situations during the year. I brought a puppy home to her because someone was giving it away and my mother was living alone. I thought maybe she would like it for companionship. She castigated me for being so selfish. For bringing such a cute puppy home without consulting with her first and how dare I put her through that. Another time, my car battery was dead and I asked her if she could drive her car out to jump start mine. She refused and I ended up calling a taxi to do it. Finally, I remember a day when my mother and I were working out back in the garden and my cousin walked in and said good morning and accidentally spooked my mother from behind. She called him an as&*h*le and and that he was “f*%king rude”. I realize these are small isolated incidents but they stick out in my mind and all add up to where I am today with her. By the age of 30 I decided that I needed to address the issue of finding my father again once and for all. I sat my mother down and asked for her help. She agreed to contact an old friend of hers in New York. This guy wrote back saying he wished me luck and attached a photocopy of a page from the phone book. And that was that. They both moved on, rekindled their friendship and my mother spent the summer out in New York visiting. I requested my birth record from the hospital. My father’s information was filled in but with a big X through it. I asked my mother why his information was crossed out. She said she couldn’t remember.
I left and taught English in Korea for three years. On one occasion, I flew back into the U.S. because I had a job interview there and I surprised my mother with a visit but when I showed up she was not impressed. Rather than being happy to see me, she was indifferent and irritated by it. I eventually clued in that my mother does not like surprises! Haha! I went back to Korea, finished my contract and then returned to the U.S. for six months. I got a plum job in Hong Kong teaching at a university. Very well paid, tax free. It was a culmination of all the years studying and teaching abroad. There wasn’t a better job to be had in my field. I got pissed at my mother when I told her about it because rather than congratulating me she was more interested in how we could buy a house together and how Hong Kong was a good place for me to go because “All I ever cared about was money anyways.” Christmas was approaching so before leaving for Hong Kong, I sent my mother luggage as a gift in the mail because she was going to go on a trip. She was living in Seattle at the time and I was in Montana. She didn’t have her own place but was house sitting for others. I was staying with my uncle in Montana over the holiday because I still had to tie up loose ends before leaving for Hong Kong. My mother was spending Christmas with my cousin out in Seattle and she knew I was with my uncle. Everybody was with family for Christmas and I had sent a gift that I assumed she had received. So, the day AFTER Christmas I called her to see how her Christmas went and if she liked the gift. Unfortunately either due to the poor mail service or the fact that she was changing residences so often while house sitting, she says she did not receive any gift. I made the mistake of assuming she had gotten it. I also assumed that everything was fine with her because she was spending Christmas with family. I admit that that was a mistake and I probably should have called anyways but afterwards I also thought to myself, “Hey, if she wanted to talk on Christmas so bad why didn’t she call ME?” She knew where I was. She had the number. I don’t know, maybe I am wrong about that. Things like this are why I am looking for advice from someone. However, when I called her to see how it went she was irate. I was a “m&thf$%#r” and a “f#$ker” and a “f$#ing f$#ker” and a “son of a b&*tch” and how dare I do that and you “little f*&ker this and little fu*&er that” and then she said that she never should have had me. I was trying to explain to her that it was a mistake, a misunderstanding and that I was sorry but she had lost her mind again. I went to Hong Kong and didn’t interact with her for six months.
I returned to the U.S. in the summer for a visit and agreed to meet with her but I rented a car and stayed in a hotel. I didn’t want to be in a position where I couldn’t exit quickly. Over the next few years we managed to slowly rebuild things. There was only one incident where she was in a rage because some guy had jumped on her car and ripped her windshield wiper off. I later found out that he did that because she had purposefully bumped into him with her car. He was drunk and blocking her way as he was giving directions to some tourists. I would visit every summer for 4-5 days. There were small disagreements but nothing major thankfully. I would call her for all the holidays and send birthday and Mother’s Day gifts. However, due to this last episode where she said she never should have had me, I realized that I couldn’t have a real relationship with this woman. But since she was my mother, I would manage the relationship. I would fulfill my familial duty as a son and make sure she was always ok, call on holidays, visit every year yada yada. That worked pretty well up until about 3 years ago.
During this period of “managing” my relationship with her, she found the daughter she had given up for adoption. This was very important to her. I contacted her daughter and welcomed her to “the family” and told her that if there is anything she wanted to know I was there for her. My mother told me that she really hoped that we could all be together one day and that I could have a good relationship with my “sister”. I have to be honest that this really pissed me off and hurt me. I understood that it was important to her and I did contact her daughter, but it felt like my nose was being rubbed in sh*t. Here was my mother, who never gave a damn about a son meeting his father, telling that son that it was so great that she was finally meeting her daughter. I think, to this day, she has no idea of the irony.
I would occasionally google my father’s name to see if I could find him. One day, I got a hit on his name. Unfortunately it was his obituary. He had died in 2007. The obituary, however, gave some of his family members’ names. I found them on Facebook. I found my two Greek aunts, a Greek uncle, a brother, a sister and several cousins. I printed their photos. I told my mother about it and showed her the photos. She told me she was sorry to hear he was dead. When I showed her the photo of my aunt Mary she started to cry but she couldn’t really confirm she was my aunt. I asked her more questions that day and got more information from her but she was still vague and non committal. It wasn’t like she was offering any information. Rather, she would respond to my inquiry as minimally as possible with words like “kind of” “sort of” “maybe” “not sure”. For example, when I asked her if she got pregnant on purpose with me she said, “Ya, kind of.” She never once in my life sat me down and said, “You know Michael, I understand it must of been difficult growing up without your father and I’m sorry about that” and yada yada yada. It was always me having to bring it up, ask a question, kinda get an answer, done. Again, I always felt uncomfortable doing it for some reason. I wasn’t assertive or angry enough. It was like I was begging for the information that I deserved; as if she was doing me a favor as I inconvenienced her with my questions. Nevertheless, I did get a bit more information this time. She did kind of admit that she got pregnant with me on purpose. After all, she was pregnant three months after giving her first baby up for adoption. It would seem likely to me that I was a replacement for her daughter and a way to fill a void for her. Or perhaps it was a way for her to give the big middle finger to her family who she felt hadn’t supported her with her first child.
I haven’t had any contact with my mother for three years. Three years ago, I emailed her and told her that I could come visit her on such and such days over the summer. She confirmed that she would be home and it was good that I was coming to visit. One week before my arrival I sent her another email about my Will documents and in this email I told her that we could go over more of the details of the Will when I see her for my visit. She confirmed that she would see me at the airport on the day. The morning of my flight she sent some emails asking if I was still coming to visit. The last of those emails said that if I didn’t reply to her email by 5 pm, she wasn’t coming to pick me up. I did not have an internet connection at the time on my phone because I was flying into the U.S. from outside the country, so I didn’t have a data plan and the wifi I was getting was sketchy. Anyways, the point is that I never received her emails to my phone asking if I was still coming. She sent these emails on the day of my flight. When I arrived at the airport she wasn’t there. That was no problem for me. I figured maybe she was late or there was a miscommunication or whatever. I waited awhile and then called her. She answered the phone and I told her that I had arrived. She said, “Oh, you’re here”. Well, I haven’t heard from you for so long!” And I was like, what are you talking about? She tells me that she had sent me some emails and that I didn’t reply. I told her that I hadn’t received them and that if she didn’t believe me she could check my phone. To that she replied, “Well, emails can be deleted can’t they”. At that moment all the air went out of me and I thought to myself are you kidding me? Are you serious? Why would I lie about that? Anyways, she asked me if I still wanted her to pick me up. I thought to myself, no. Hell no. But I decided to let it go and just chalk it up to a miscommunication and let’s move on. She came and picked me up. We had dinner and talked. I went to unpack my bags in my room and a sick feeling came over me. I had knots in my stomach. It was like all the years of trouble between us was there. I was fifteen years all over again. I was standing on a cliff and I had to decide if I would jump. I packed up my bags and walked to the living room where she was sitting. I put on my shoes, looked at her and told her that “She had never made me feel good about myself and I had never made her feel good about herself” and I walked out the door. As I walked down the street with my luggage I yelled “I am better off without you and you are better off without me!” Her last words to me were, “What did I ever do to you?!” What is crazy is that those three simple sentences between us pretty much sum up the entire relationship.
As I walked down the hill, I felt a huge burden lift. When cars came up behind me in the night I ducked into the ditch in case it was her. I got a taxi and checked into a hotel. She sent a couple of emails asking where I was. I didn’t reply. I couldn’t understand it. I had visited many times before and had never cancelled. I mean, EVEN IF you aren’t sure a person is still coming YOU STILL GO just in case, don’t you???? That is what I would do and it is what everybody I asked said they would do. If they weren’t sure, they would still go and they certainly wouldn’t accuse the person of lying about it. The drive from her house to the airport is 20 MINUTES max! When I realized she would rather sit and demand a call rather than drive 20 minutes, I just couldn’t understand it. It may seem like a trivial incident to cut a relationship over, but for me it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. It was an accumulation of all the years, not just this one situation.
She eventually sent me the following final email a few days after I left:
“Hi, well I am wondering why you left so suddenly. It appeared we were having a good talk on the balcony and then when we had the ribs you chose to go. You said at the airpot that we both won’t agree on the “No, I didn’t receive the emails” so I also decided to move on and enjoy our visit. Obviously, it was not over for you. The “Lets not talk about it” that is. Obviously, it might not be that but a lot of other things which we have a history of. True, I was not the best mother, I admit that. You have not been the best son either. We don’t visit anymore. Even Skype doesn’t work. I think you just don’t want me as your Mom anymore. Is that true? It must be or you would have remained and we could have slept on it and talked about it calmly the next day. You chose to walk away. I think that was a poor choice. I am hurt every time you do this. I don’t know if I can handle this. I don’t want us to have this riff and it is difficult for me to understand it. I think I am going to see a shrink because it will kill me to not be at peace with this whatever happens. You know I love you because I tell you all the time and I always will. If you don’t write back, I will know your answer. So, I wish you luck and good things and I have asked God to take care of you and protect you as you journey on without me. I wish it could be different but I can’t change your thoughts and feelings about me. The past is the past and lets put that to rest and try to be happy with each day and what it brings. I have other people in my life and in some way that will give me comfort. I am not giving up on you because as a Mom having you in my arms at your birth was the most love I ever knew and that love is still with me of how I feel about you. You are a unique person and very deep to the point I can’t understand you very well. At the moment, I feel you are a lost soul but that can change if you just give love a chance. Love Mom.
Ps. I spoke to John and Aunt Louise is not doing well. I think the cancer is getting worse. I feel sad and with you and her going to of my life soon it is a real double kick in the stomach. I wish she would pass quickly so she can be at peace. John is not handling it well and suffering as well. Anyway, I thought I should tell you because we didn’t have time to discuss it and you don’t seem to really care anyhow. Ok. Bye.”
I have no problem with putting the past in the past. I tried to do that with her way back in my 20s. But the explosive and weird behavior has continued with her into the present. The problem isn’t so much past behavior but continued and continued and continued behavior year after year after year. It bothers me more that she has never acknowledged my pain and never taken any responsibility for it in the present. Everything is hedged with her. “I was not the best mother…… but you have not been the best son either.” Perhaps, but one of us was the child and the other was supposedly the adult, no? I feel like it’s a nice flowery email and what not, but it rings hollow for me. I have no faith in it. I don’t believe she is capable of discussing things “rationally” even though she claims that is what we should have done. I think it would have escalated into a drama show like it always has. What I really think is that she wants to get into all that pain. She likes the drama. There is nothing she would like better than for us to get all emotional and have a big cry and a big fight and a big cry and then make up and then fight and cry and fight and make up ad infinitum. There is zero trust between us. Why else would she assume that I would ignore her emails on purpose and lie about receiving them? I realized that perhaps it was more important that she be able to forgive herself than for me to forgive her. I don’t know. I have never replied to her email because I have no hope left that anything will be any different than it always has been between us. I left as a matter of my own survival and sanity. I have cut her off completely and also cut off all my cousins and aunts and uncles on her side. I have no problem with them at all and they are fine, but I fear that by having contact with them I will still have to deal with my mother. I also worry that if I stay in contact with them, but not with her, she will cause problems for them. To be honest, I would not eat a meal my mother cooks or get into a car she drives. There were times when I stayed at her place that I would put my luggage against the door before going to sleep. This may seem over the top or paranoid thinking but it is how I really feel, justified or not. My mother is not one to forgive and forget and let grudges go easily, but she expects others to “put the past in the past”. I feel the relationship is irreconcilable and completely broken. I see it kind of like a tiger with a broken leg. Do you fix the tiger’s leg? Well, you can do that but once the leg is fixed that tiger may eat you. I have not contacted her for three years now and she has not contacted me. My cousins and aunt have written to me but I have not replied. A few months ago, my mother called a friend of mine in the U.S. to ask about me and say that my cousins were confused about why I had cut them off. I told my friend that he shouldn’t have to act as a go between and that if she contacts him again to tell her to just email me.
Ok, now depending on what kind of person you are this may get a bit weird for you. Two years ago I went to Brazil to drink Ayahuasca. It is a psychedelic brew that the indigenous people drink in the Amazon. It’s like taking magic mushrooms but way more powerful. It is supposed to help with depression, trauma, addictions, etc. Kind of like what studies these days have shown MDMA can do for PTSD. Ayahuasca causes you to enter into altered states of consciousness. I drank it for 10 days. I had many visions and feelings and experiences on it. Some people think you enter the spirit world, some think you enter other dimensions. I am a scientific type of guy, but I definitely had revealing and impactful experiences on it. Perhaps, this brew opens up your subconscious and you see what is deep down in there. So, maybe it is not a spiritual journey but a trip down into your own subconscious mind. Eventually, the Ayahuasca put my relationship with my mother and father front and center. It was saying to me that I am not my mother and father’s reasons. I am not their choices and that I should be a man and be strong and build myself up. It was basically saying forget about them, live your life. You aren’t them. I asked why my mother had me. I was being shown negative things about my mother, but I kept making excuses for her in my mind. But it kept trying to show me. At one point, I felt like I was inside my mother’s brain. It was pure fear and chaos. I couldn’t stay in there for long. But my impression was that I was inside my mother’s brain. I know that may be crazy for you to hear, but it was my experience on this stuff. Anyways, I wasn’t accepting what it was showing me about my mother until I had a dream while I was there. In my dream, my mother was a bear and she was chasing me. I woke up and thought that was kind of weird. A few days later I had another dream. This time, I was sitting on a bed next to my mother. I asked her a question and she replied angrily. I asked her why she had to respond that way. She didn’t answer, so I asked her again why she had to answer like that. Suddenly, I was struck in the back of the head with a blunt object and I fell to the floor half unconscious. I could feel her moving in behind me to finish me off, but I was conscious enough to stay still and wait until she came close enough for me to counter strike. Just as I was ready to do so, I woke up. I swear to God, it was one of those dreams where you wake up and it was so REAL that you just think WTF was that?! I had my face in my hands and I couldn’t believe how real it was. Ayahuasca, or my own subconscious was literally hitting me over the head with it. I continue to have crazy dreams about my mother on occasion up to the present day.
After this experience in the Amazon two years ago, I immediately got in contact with my father’s side of the family based on the obituary information I had found online. I flew to Greece and met my relatives there for the first time. I finally saw the first photo I had ever seen of my father. I visited his grave. It was the end of a long road. I learned all about that side of my family. It’s ironic that I now know more about the history of my father’s side of the family than I do about my mother’s side. The Greek side can be traced back over 2000 years. My other Greek relatives are in New York. I met my aunt Mary and my sister and brother there. Everybody is really nice and welcoming and normal. Nobody is crazy so far thank God! As long as it stays that way, I am happy to get to know them better. I just have no room left in my life for drama. I get upset when I see somebody being abusive to other people even if it’s a movie or something. It triggers a certain feeling inside me.
My intention is not to pick my mother apart on every detail and pile on the negativity. I am just trying to paint as clear a picture as I can of the facts and relate my own experience, feelings and thoughts on those facts. The problem that I am left with is that for some reason I still struggle with cutting my mother off. I can’t seem to have the confidence that it is justified. I wonder if I am being ungrateful somehow. I think my mother tried. I always had my material needs met. There were good things that she did too. My senior year in high school, she gifted me a two week exchange program trip to Germany. When I was a little boy she took me to Disneyland. She helped cover some of my expenses my first year in college. She let me stay at her place rent free for a year so I could work and save after finishing my Master’s degree. When I add it all up I would say that she paid out about 20,000 dollars to me (5000 for the trip to Germany, 10 000 for first year in college, 5000 for other miscellaneous help) past the age of 18 along with 1.5 months of free rent (5 months in the summer after finishing my undergraduate degree to save money to go to Argentina, one year after Argentina to save and pay off my student loans). Some of that was reciprocated of course as I got older. I bought her televisions, computers, plane tickets, etc. I think she tried, but it seems she is incapable of having a healthy relationship with people. I don’t believe she is malicious. I may be wrong. I don’t know. She does not seem to understand that her choices, her tantrums and her head games destroy trust. For her, it’s done and over with. But for me, it made me super gun shy about being close to her, which I think she then picked up on and resented.
When I look at the facts, she has had a falling out with almost everyone in her life. The only person in my life I don’t get along with is her. Nevertheless, I can’t seem to get over the doubt about cutting her off. As a result, I ruminate on it, I think about it, it gets in my head and I can’t focus on my own life and living it healthy and happy. It blocks me. I think about it every day. It’s the kind of pain you have when your heart is broken from a romantic relationship. It weighs on you. It follows you around. I don’t like my mother, I don’t respect my mother. I fear her. I don’t want to interact with her. But she is my mother and there is something that keeps me from being at peace with it. When I hear people talking about how they miss their parents and love them so much I just can’t relate. I find it hard to believe that some (most?) people never got beat or cussed out by their parents. It makes me envious when I see true love, appreciation, respect and trust in a family. I wish my life had that. I don’t want to have this situation. It complicates my life greatly. But trying to get me to talk with my mother now would be like dragging a cat to a bath. I don’t think I will ever do it. She is fine. She has a house, a pension, healthcare, her family, her daughter and grand children. She has more than I ever had in the family department. She is not destitute or anything. She is ok. I am ok. She got her replacement baby and I got a life. Are we even? Do we need to continue with this chaos?
I don’t want to hurt my mother, I just want to be free of the guilt and turmoil. Even if I did reconnect, it would be fake. It would be out of obligation. She is not the kind of person I would normally have anything to do with. I know there are other people out there who had it worse than me. I had a roof, clothes, food. Nobody raped me. I wasn’t beat every day. I actually wish it were worse, so it would be a clear cut case. If my mother were a crackhead and I had been raped and severely neglected and abused and starved there would be no doubt about what I should do. But it was not severe enough to be sure like that, so I have doubts about what to think about my negative feelings towards my mother. Why do I have them? Are they justified? What is considered “abuse”? How is it defined? Was I abused? I’m not sure. Where do I fit on a sliding scale? This is my dilemma. Am I being an ungrateful? Why do I hate dealing with my mother and why don’t I like her? Is there something wrong with me?
If I were to play arm chair psychologist, I would say that my mother has some sort of personality disorder, probably something like Borderline Personality Disorder. The death of her father at a young age and her treatment when she was young, along with a history of mental illness in the family may have been the trigger that caused her to have a fear of abandonment and lack of trust. It seems she has a lot of pain, fear, bitterness and mistrust inside of her and has lashed out at others when she misinterprets their actions and considers them intentional and malicious. She had me to replace her daughter. She never wanted a son. She just wanted a baby, and once I was no longer a baby the problems began. I do wonder if perhaps she may have been sexually abused at some point in her life and has never addressed it. She once told me she never should have had me and the truth is that she really shouldn’t have. She shouldn’t have had any children. She should have stayed single, partied, traveled and enjoyed her life. Instead she left two children both without fathers, one abandoned and the other confused. It is so odd that she would do this and not be able to understand the pain she caused because of it when she knows how difficult it was for her to lose her own father at a young age.
As for me, I was a good and happy go lucky kid up until about the age of 8. After that, I gradually put up more and more barriers and distanced myself emotionally in order to protect myself and survive. I guess I didn’t really see my mother in terms of love. I saw her as an unpredictable person to be wary of and someone to go to for material needs. I don’t feel she taught me much if anything about life. She never sat me down and asked me anything about myself or took the time to teach me anything about life. Everything with her just seems reactionary. Like everything that happens is just a reaction to such and such stimuli. Stuff was just happening. So I believe it was at best a superficial relationship, and at worst a dysfunctional one. I don’t claim to be an angel and I’m sure I could get on her nerves as I got older and into my teen years, but I never got into any big trouble. I wasn’t into drugs, I didn’t get into fights or vandalize anything. I spent my time alone and with my friends and played a lot of sports. I graduated. I held resentment towards her and probably still do today. But I did try to make things work for a very long time. I never once cussed her out or laid a finger on her. I don’t want to be resentful, I just want to be at peace. I have a lot of really good friends. I have had life long friendships. I have never freaked out on anybody or hit anybody ever. As for romantic relationships, I have had a few serious ones that didn’t work out for different reasons. I was engaged once. I am not opposed to being in a serious relationship, but I do value my freedom and am somewhat of a loner. My Myers-Briggs test labelled me an INTP which seems pretty accurate. I am an introvert, I think a lot, I am able to perceive different angles of a problem. It may be one of the reasons why I struggle so much with my mother. If I were more judgmental, perhaps it would be easier to move on. Or maybe I am being too judgmental with her? I don’t know for sure. I would like to know. Currently I am single and I am happy to be that way for the moment. I have lived with melancholy throughout my life and have had a couple of bouts of serious depression. I was happier and more resilient when I was younger. As I got older, I contemplated life more and went through an existential crisis for about four years where I read and watched everything I could on evolution, physics, cosmology, religion, science, history, human and animal psychology, psychedelics, consciousness, you name it. It became more difficult to live in the moment and be happy with all that information in my head. However, I managed to get to the point where I was able to accept the uncertainty and mystery of Life, understand the harsh brutal facts and just take it for what it is and enjoy it.
I am trying to get some objective perspective on the situation and understand what may be the truth of the matter. If I am in the wrong, I want to know. Ive tried to get some objective perspective on my own but it’s impossible. If I could put it to a trial and jury of my peers, I would gladly go through that, accept the verdict and do the right thing.
Am I justified in cutting her off and not wanting anything to do with her or am I being too cold, harsh and ungrateful?
I honestly think you should edit the hell out of your post because not many people are even going to attempt that Everest of verbiage.
take it down to 3 sentences and you'll probably get some helpful responses.
I honestly think you should edit the hell out of your post because not many people are even going to attempt that Everest of verbiage.
take it down to 3 sentences and you'll probably get some helpful responses.
I read the first part, "I have one hangup that I am not able to resolve". You then parlayed that into a novel. I would hate to think if you had several hangups.
Haha! What?! Come on guys. Therapists suck. I tried that. They're way too PC. I need the people's court. You just scrolled past my tragic life? OMG. I'm crushed. Nobody cares.
Haha! What?! Come on guys. Therapists suck. I tried that. They're way too PC. I need the people's court. You just scrolled past my tragic life? OMG. I'm crushed. Nobody cares.
Make it one or two paragraphs and you will get responses.
Make it one or two paragraphs and you will get responses.
I understand, thanks for the advice. I will do that. I was just joking around. I know it's ridiculously long, but just wanted to see what the internet thought. The internet has spoken: "Edit that Sh$T down!" Haha. Ok.
I understand, thanks for the advice. I will do that. I was just joking around. I know it's ridiculously long, but just wanted to see what the internet thought. The internet has spoken: "Edit that Sh$T down!" Haha. Ok.
LOL! Great to see you have a sense of humor! I gotta say, that might be the longest post in CD history! lol
Would love to help, but given what you wrote...I'd rather see the movie.
Location: The Land Mass Between NOLA and Mobile, AL
1,796 posts, read 1,664,569 times
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You're an adult, OP. Your relationship with your mother is up to you. Define your own terms. I say this merely because I have relatives who suck. Good luck.
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