What I learned about love and relationships from my mother.

Lately I’ve been dealing with a lot of resentment and anger towards my mother. To explain why, let me share a specific incident that kind of illustrates why I am upset. When I was 14/15, my mother worked with a guy named Danny who met me and developed a huge crush on me. He was […]

via My Mother Helped a Guy to Stalk Me — Maranda Russell

A personal response to a dear friend…

I’m sharing my response on here because I think it’s important for me to share my story. You will get something out of it. Another gift for the masses, but I don’t really know what value it will have for you.

Mother, may I?

I can’t speak for your mum because I have no idea about her life. But I can share what I know about my mum… and she is just the same result of her upbringing. She tried her best, and tried to teach me to learn from her mistakes. But she’s a terrible teacher. She has no clue. She knew enough to try to make her offspring a better version of herself, to learn from her mistakes… But she didn’t know that by forcing those “lessons” she was essentially creating these new and different scars and injuries to my spirit….

My mum told me to marry a white person. Because white men love their women. Filo guys (she’s filo) just want to drag you down to their level. She told me that age doesn’t matter, because my dad was 6 years older than her, it was okay if I was with an older guy. When I was 14 or so she tried to encourage me to date this 18/20 year old from her church. I was so not okay with that, and she backed off. She taught me explicitly and implicitly about love. And tips to help me in finding that.

In instilling these “lessons” on me, she inadvertently taught me that I would never be able to find love inside of myself, that it would only be really found through romantic/sexual relationships. She was so insistent on “helping me” like that… we connected better as equals, and our mother/daughter relationship often became flipped and what not. depending on her moods…. So I had no mother, really. It was up to me to take care of her after my dad died. She was so broken and alone. I was her rival when he was alive, but when he died I was all she had left of him. So I had to … take care of her. And teach her. Show her how to grow up and move on from loss… And that has helped her heal. But now that she’s moved on from her grief, she doesn’t see me as a grown woman, she sees me as the rebellious ungrateful child who doesn’t love her. And she takes out her own insecurities on me and my children.. and like.. omg. Go away. I cannot deal with you right now. I have to raise my children first, before I can raise you, again.

But I know she won’t see it that way, and she sees my “distance” as… hurtful. She doesn’t know why I’m distant from her, but I have to be. To take care of my home first. And I want to build a name and future for myself out in the public world. And she sees that she is being abandoned all over again….
She is the result of her own tragic childhood. She is… her brother and herself, they are Artemis and Apollo… But.. not really. Her story is tragic and private so I don’t know how to explain it… but… I know that my gran did the best she could, and she was just a foolish girl, and got herself into all sorts of drama. She tried to make up for it all in her kids. But ended up perpetuating the same shit, just in a different way. And then there’s me. The last of my line from my father and my mother’s side. And I don’t know if my kids will be able to “heal the wounds of their ancestors” when it goes so far away from them… Back beyond the memory of even myself… I only knew my mum’s mum, and my dad’s mum. But I don’t know their stories except from what I’ve learned from asking questions. But when everyone is dead and there is no one left to ask… Geez. I guess it’s up to me again, like usual. To “save the fucking day”. Because honestly, if they could have done it themselves, then they would have. And I can’t trust anyone else to help them because their stories aren’t important to other people, only really me. They’re important to only our respective sides of the family. On my mum’s side… her brother is… not intelligent enough to understand. I think he is cognitively… impaired. He has OCD and autistic mannerisms… But it’s shameful to acknowledge anything, he’s just “special”. And then there’s her. So she’s trying to take care of him like her mum did.

Epilogue.

I want to help my mum but I also have to help my family. And I have to help myself too. And there’s this constant giving out of myself and very little return. I run on “psychic power” (LOL, I also say I’m solar powered because I get ‘SAD’) and I have no idea when my cup gets refilled, because it happens so slowly and really only when I think all hope is lost… and turns out I have some reserve of strength and love and self to give just a bit more.. But I can’t give forever. It’s completely unsustainable. I want to know when I can stop giving. Not because I’m selfish and want everyone to fuck off. But because… no one else helps… tell me you’ll take over because I’m tired. It won’t be for long. But then I’m selfish because “everything is always about me and what I get out of it”. Jesus christ… So I have to wait… for them to see I need help. Because they don’t hear me screaming for help. They only look up when it’s too late. When their bowls are empty, the laundry is not done, I can’t find their fucking whatever it is they’ve misplaced… They only see what I do when I no longer do it, they only help when I think I’m on the verge of real imminent danger to myself… When my sanity goes crazy… But this is an INTERNAL suffering… Diabetes isn’t on the outside, it’s very much “no one can see why you’re acting like you’re a psycho or you’re drunk”… except that you look crazy and/or drunk.

They don’t ask, even though I tell them they have to because I won’t tell them unless they ask… due to the “selfish paradox” they keep throwing at me. I can’t keep telling them what is going on with me. They’re so close to me that I won’t be able to prevent my “intense laser focus power of scrutiny” from hurting them. And I can’t control my powers when I’m hurt. Think of.. Cyclops from the x-men. LOL.

12 thoughts on “What I learned about love and relationships from my mother.

  1. marandarussell says:

    Wow, your mom does sound a lot like mine. I do recognize that she got to be the way she is due to much trauma and abuse of her own when she was growing up. She had a dad that fucked her up just as much, if not more, than she fucked me and my sister up. Like you, I always got the message that a man taking care of you if the end all/be all of life. She let my sister date a guy in his 40’s when she was 17 and still in school, and even let them go away on weekend trips together almost every week. Like you, when my mom’s last husband dumped her (see the story behind their marriage here: http://marandarussell.com/2018/02/14/the-most-humiliating-experience-of-my-life/), I felt like I had to take my mom in and take care of her. I did so for 12 or 13 years and then after intensive therapy decided it just wasn’t good for me to live with her anymore and I made arrangements for her to stay with her uncle instead, which pretty much splintered our relationship and made her feel like I had betrayed and abandoned her. At this point we have a minimal relationship and I do think often of going no contact.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Kalliope says:

      Do you live close to your mum? My mum lives in the granny flat in my backyard. My dad build our house, and we’re helping her financially by helping to pay for the mortgage. She’s helping us financially by not making us buy the house from her. It is really symbiotic. But shes in my backyard… there’s no hiding. Just sheer ignoring… or.. but just trying to avoid without going out of my way… lol

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        • Kalliope says:

          I dont always know what I really mean when I say things… because I mean it in every interpretation. But when time is linear and I dont know…. what choice I’ll end up making?
          I dont want to die. But I think I will. And I dont know if I’ll end up killing myself or if my situation will kill me. I dont know if it’s my head, my heart, or my body that will die… and… it’s just… something.
          I cant help the way I think and act and feel and do… I dont know what it means. Because it is only what it means to me at the time.
          I’m important in some way, to someone, for some reason. I just wish I could have been important to me… and important to the ones I love most… and… that… they’ll… I dont know. I cant know. I wont assume anything.

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        • Kalliope says:

          No one ever regrets while in the present. And I lose control of my emotional state of being in the present. I am hyper aware of cause and effect and if I killed myself the implications that would have on my family.
          I do not want to do that. I don’t really want to die. I do desire, at times, to be blotted out from existence, from all memory, that I never existed at all.
          But again… I dont know how much of that I mean. I do exist and therefore I want to continue to exist (survival), however I am unhappy… so in efforts to change my situation to become happy, it causes pain and discomfort and inconvenience to others, and I dont want to do that to people. I dont want to be a negative point of reference UNINTENTIONALLY (I do enjoy playing devils advocate while engaged in discourse) cause harm or anything to people. And then I find myself a nice cozy hole to cry in, because “no one sees me”, what I need or want or like… they only see the role or service i provide for them. So… I just help. I just do that thing for others. Because I like it. It helps me get out of “the hole of my head”. And its lonely. I live in this black little cave waiting for people to call on me, because that’s the only place I’ve found my “value” in just being… and … it’s not sustainable. Lol.
          But if an accident were to happen that was out of my control? *high five* I dont have to carry any additional karmic weight. I didnt do it so its “not my fault”. And if others blame me after I’m dead what do I care? I’ll be dead. Haha.
          But because I know I exist and I cant undo my existence… if i never existed at all. There is the true blissful ignorance.

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