“There's nothing to forgive, she was sick.” (LONG)
One of my daughters and I were watching some of the videos by RE, she wanted to get some clarity on it. She eventually asked me if I'd ever forgiven my mother for the abuse I suffered as a child. She knows quite a bit about it because when she did her senior thesis she did a paper about mental illness in the USA. She asked me if she could use me as a source due to her biological Grandmother. It was painful but necessary I think, almost like purging an old attic.
See, my bio mom could be cruel when I was growing up. She could be unpredictable and violent. She was the source of physical and emotional abuse. The most frightening thing about growing up with her was you never knew when she would snap. Looking back I know now that I was extremely lucky to have such a persistent father, he was willing to go bankrupt to get my brother and I out of that house. As a child in the 70's it was a rare thing for a father to get custody of his children, especially when they had been in the mothers care for a few years but he never gave up. I'm positive him getting custody is what gave me the chance at having a good life, I can never repay that.
I'm not going to list all things she did, just share one or two small snapshots of life with her.
At the end of my mothers life, she was in a facility because she couldn't care for herself any longer. Her mental state severely affected her ability to cope with diabetes. She ended up losing both her legs from just above the knee down to gangrene, she had a trach, congestive heart failure and had to go to dialysis. She was slowly losing her sight, and with it her shaky grip on reality.
One day in particular she was making odd motions with her hands, I sat there and watched her. After a few minutes she held her hand out to me and said “Isn't it beautiful?” I asked what and she replied “The rose, I made it for you.” I pantomimed taking it, and didn't bat an eye.
My husband had only known my mother after she was diagnosed and on medication in the facility, it was hard for him to grasp that the funny and charming woman he would come visit could be the same person that caused so much pain. He didn't come as often as I did and hadn't seen her on a “bad” day, so he thought what I was telling him was an exaggeration. It came to light one afternoon as we were sitting in the common area talking that I wasn't.
She was telling my husband about how much she missed her “wild pets”, and she was so close to the animals in our yard that she had even bottle fed a baby squirrel and raised it as her own. She told him that squirrel had many generations of little ones and would come sit on her knee. She went on to say that she had built a little house for them and everything. It was like she created this entire alternate timeline in her head. Fabricated into whole cloth, vivid and engaging. It was also completely and utterly untrue.
I said to her “Mama, you know that's not what happened. Let's talk about something else.”
She changed as quickly as flipping over a card, taunting me. Sneering and saying things like “Is the little baby gonna cry now? You're stupid and weak, you've always been.” As she kept on I sat very still and waited for her to stop. I then told her “We have to go now Mama, you should rest.” We got up and left, the entire time my husband looked like he'd been hit with a hammer. He asked what really happened, so I told him.
The reality was ugly. There was a squirrel I had befriended called Twinkle, she would come to me and take food right from my hand. She was a huge comfort to me and made me smile. On one of her worse days my mother decided to sick our dog onto her, for no reason other than because she could. Twinkle tried to get away into the garage, she hid in a metal tube. I found her when the dog wouldn't stop growling and trying to get into it. I picked her up and held her to my chest. She died. I think I was maybe 8 years old.
I came into the house crying while holding her, and my mother started mocking me. Telling me that I was evil and wicked and that's why terrible things like that happened to me. She taunted me for crying and made me throw Twinkle in the trash instead of burying her. Then had me sit at the table while she loved all over the dog that killed the squirrel, telling him what a good boy he was to kill such an awful rat. I'll never forget her telling me “You should thank me, that disgusting thing probably had a disease.” I had to keep sitting at the table until I thanked her for killing Twinkle.
This is a small blip in a long series of how it was to live with her.
Near the time she passed away, she had a few days where she was completely lucid. It was on these days you could see how broken she truly was, that she was aware of it and it was torture for her. She gripped my hand and told me she was sorry she was never able to love me. She told me she tried, but just couldn't feel the way she should. She asked me if I could love her, I told her I couldn't love her as a mother but could care about her as a person. She said it was more than she could ask for.
When she died, I didn't cry. I couldn't grieve because wherever she was going, whatever happened after life ended it had to be better than what she was leaving. Even nothingness would be better.
When my daughter asked me that question, asked me “Did you ever forgive her for the things she did?”
I replied “No.”
She looked at me in confusion and I clarified. “There's nothing to forgive, she was sick.”
Please think about that for a moment before you talk about the mentally ill. They come in all shapes and sizes, all flavors. Each situation is as unique as the person it's happening to. Sometimes they are aware of how different they are, sometimes seeing it is impossible. Sometime they know enough to struggle with it, to take medication and conquer it, many times they don't. You wouldn't blame someone for being born with down syndrome right? Or think there's something morally wrong with a beautiful baby who has a port wine birthmark? The child born without the cognitive ability to really see the world is just as challenged as the child born with no legs. It's just not as visible.
Thank you for taking the time to read this, I know it was very long.
= new reply since forum marked as read
The day to day grind of being treated like that. 
The day to day grind of being treated like that.
Thank you for telling us your story. I hope it has helped you heal from the terrible wounds your mother inflicted on you.
3 generations, I think we've finally left that legacy behind, and that's a good thing. Thank you for caring. 
-Laelth
Last edited Mon May 26, 2014, 02:58 PM - Edit history (1)
I don't want to go into it now. But I couldn't get away, was isolated due to bullying and chronic disease, no siblings, no loving grandparents to escape to, and my Dad was gone all the time for business. And he was an alcoholic, so he was good at denial.
My entire life has been about trying to build a Self, keep functioning and looking for ways to manage depression and PTSD, and learn how to "do life". I wasn't taught any normal everyday life skills.
There's a book called Understanding the Borderline Mother that helps make sense of her. But it's a fine line---sometimes it's more helpful to focus on learning to nurture yourself, and change bad habits (oy, a lifetime of shutting down tactics. It's slow going) rather than ruminate over was wrong with her.
Thanks for sharing your story--you're not alone....I know the feeling. Sometimes, it comes out, and then you feel embarrassed for having "burdened" people with it.
My mother is malevolent, toxic, hateful, deceitful, and a master manipulator. She has done more emotional damage to me than I can express. I hope someday to be able to get past it, but since I am a baby boomer with more life behind me than before me, I don't hold out much hope. She is now in an assisted living facility three miles from me, but I haven't visited her for a month. I used to go daily, taking her all manner of food, treats, clothes, toiletries - you name it. Her continual abuse has made it impossible for me to see her. My husband used to admonish me for visiting her, saying "In an hour she won't know if you visited her" and I used to say "But I'll know". Visiting her wasn't easy, but I felt it was the right thing to do. Now, I don't care. I just want to be free of her. My brother, who she has repeatedly told me is her favorite (there is only the two of us), can step up. Or not. I'm done.
Hang in there Mother Of Four, and thanks for sharing your story.
MissDeeds
I won't forgive my mother either. When she first was admitted to the care facility, she knew everyone but me; my brother and his kids and their kids, her sister who she hadn't seen in several years and her kids, but she refused to "know" me. The administrator was very kind and compassionate but told me that my mom was deliberately doing that to hurt me. She said that in all the years she had worked there, she never came across a patient who knew everyone but one person. It was deliberate. I kept trying to reach out, but as one of my older cousins said, "You keep trying to give your mama your love, and she shoves it back in your face." The hurt is immeasurable. I finally came to a tipping point and just walked away. This may sound horrible, but I don't even want to know when she dies. I just want to be free of her.
Much love and hugs going out to you, murielm99
Miss, that's horrible 
It's truly vindictive her pretending not to know you. It's cold and calculating.
I'm glad you were strong enough to walk away from it and make a life separate from her. It takes just as much strength to know when to leave, as it does to know when to stay.
for your kind words, peace13. I really appreciate it, and I am so sorry your mom was also malicious. I hope you have found some comfort in reading through this thread. It was hard for me, but also therapeutic. It's good to know it's okay to close the door and move on when all efforts have met with disdain and rejection.
Much love and peace to you too.
Thank you.
I have struggled with trying to forgive my mother who was neglectful, abusive and resentful. I am sure she had some mental and emotional issues. She too was sick.
I'm certainly glad to hear that your dad did what he could to make things better, though.....if he's still alive, I hope he's doing well. 
Sadly he's passed away as well, but he was a pretty amazing guy 
I was able to build the framework of who I wanted to be most by watching him and my stepmom interact together.
She posed the same kind of thinking
Is it truly such a grand thing to be "mentally stable"? To be defined as free of mental illness? Some of the greatest monsters in history were perfectly healthy individuals, even intellectually brilliant.
When my daughter and I were talking about it, she said she hates the word "Normal".
"What is normal?" she asked me. I said I suppose it depends on the society.
She said exactly, just because a majority of people in a region think or act within certain societal boundaries doesn't make them more normal than any other human in other regions. If you took a Zulu warrior from the 1800's and dropped them into the center of a modern day city, most would call him insane. But in that time, and that region he was perfectly "normal". Just as society changes, the perception of what normal should be also changes. What was acceptable can become unacceptable, what was moral can become immoral and visa versa.
So I asked her how would she define someone who is genuinely a bad person, dangerous? She said in her mind it's simple, do they knowingly set out to hurt others for their own gain or pleasure? If the answer is yes, then they are genuinely bad people.
One of the very definitions of humanity is
hu·man·i·ty noun \hyü-ˈma-nə-tē, yü-\
: the quality or state of being human
: the quality or state of being kind to other people or to animals
: all people
I also believe it does come back to awareness. In the lucid days my mother had, she was very aware of the pain she caused when she wasn't. She didn't know why she did the things she did, it was like she was on auto pilot.
“There's nothing to forgive, she was sick.”
maybe that is why we are here with more empathy than most…
for the pain you have had to endure. Childhood should be a time free of harm, but unfortunately that is not always the case. You are wise and compassionate to "...try to learn the lesson that it's okay not to love him as my brother but okay to care about him as a human who is ill." Your brother is in a care facility and his needs are being met. Just take good care of yourself now, and continue look forward.
Many hugs,
MissDeeds
and was able to rescue you.
