I Wish I Could Go No-Contact With My Mom, But Here's Why I Can't
I’ll admit it, I’m a psychology junky. People are endlessly fascinating to me. I’ve spent hundreds, no, thousands of hours learning about every facet from social conditioning to neurology and generational trauma. The unexpected by-product has been a dramatic increase in empathy. Considering people’s motives and personal limitations makes me slow down or stop judgement altogether. The one exception to thisis my Mom. Even with all of thebenefit of the doubt in the world, how can anyone act how she did? Treat me theway she did? And then go on to assume we should have a best-friendsrelationship now that I’m older?If anything, with age I’ve found her words and behavior to be more shocking, hurtful and unacceptable.Removing my mom from my life If you’re someone who has a strained relationship with a parent, you know how hard it is. Something about our brains put our own selves at fault way before them. And even when we do createdistance, it’s like amnesia falls over us. So from time to time I find myselfhaving to remind myself:For her own selfish agenda, my entire childhood she did the following:When I was 5 years-old, she inappropriately told details of her affair, not normal kid stuff She brought her lover home whenever my dad was at work, and all activities involved himShe tried to normalize her loverShe made sure I had no relationship with my dad (she vilified and alienated him until he turned into an alcoholic) But it didn't end there. My mother was also physically and emotionally abusive--at one point, she told me I ruined her life… every day for a year. She pathologically lied about everything and everyone. Still, for years I tried two different formats of relationships with her--I tried working through the past and then, I tried ignoring the past to see if it would work better. But her selfishness, manipulation and habit of playing the victim kept showing up. So, eventually it became crystal clear: she was not capable of being in my life without being destructive and hurtful. So, I blocked her number, and then I basked in the calm of life. The lose-lose game of family politics Soon enough though, I realized that she lived with my grandparents- the people who took me in when my parents divorced. The people who (for the first time ever) provided structure and safety to my life. The people who did not have a self-serving agenda behind everything. The people who literally changed the trajectory of my life through consistency and unconditional love. I tried to dance aroundher living arrangements. I would see my grandparents only when she wasn’t home-that was until my grandfather got sick. For emergency purposes we opened thelines of communication again. She tried to use that ‘in’ and violate every boundary. More manipulative messages would come in than those about my grandfather’s illness. She would use every opportunity to tell me how bad of a daughter I am, how I hate her, how unlucky she is.Fast forward to today and I still struggle with this arrangement. The boundaries are uncomfortably blurred and I feel mentally and physically exhausted in her presence. Somehow, somewhere, I hold on to hopeHaving a biological mother who’s alive and accessible but not capable (or willing?) of being a ‘mother’ in any other sense of the word is truly a set up for internal struggle. I know what she’s like because she’s shown me at every opportunity for the past three decades. So it’s crazy to hold out hope. But if I’m being totally honest, I do. There’s a little girlinside of me that wishes she could be close to her mom. That she could call hermom on good days and bad. And on one hand, it makesevery disappointment hurt harder and keeps me in a constant limbo. On theother, I feel relieved that my soul is so resilient.I recently read that murderers (I know, extreme example- but hear me out), have blatant abnormalities in their brain imaging. It’s a controversial topic among scientists, but so far the results are striking. Neuroscience is discovering that brain structures and grey matter can hinder things like choice-making, fight or flight response, and performance under stress. So, what does this have to do with my mom? It’s a bit of information that helps me put things into context and open a door to empathy. Maybe she was quite literally incapable of making better decisions. For now though, I’ve done a lot of self-healing and introspection. I’m in a good place. I recognize the temporary nature of her living arrangements. I don’t have to be in this limbo for much longer. Given our history, the door is firmly shut, and I have no plans to open it. I won’t, however, prescribe to today’s impulsive ‘cancel culture.’ If one day I recognize that she’s grown to be loving, kind and capable of healthy relationships, I am willing to try. After all, I’ve done the work to be well-grounded in who I am and I’ve built up the inner strength to know I can and will stand up for myself if the opportunity ever were to rise. With this steadfast identity and self-assurance, I can be open and vulnerable without fear and without hate. I share this because I’m very aware of how tricky these types of relationships can be. So, if my personal experience can provide you with validation, acceptance or another point-of-view, I’ll know my job is done. Your friend, Ivy GillThis post is a part of a series on my life experiences, written to help others who may relate. Find more of my writing here. More inspiring stories:I Realized My Relationship With My Mother Was Actually Toxic And Learned to Parent MyselfHow To Forgive Your Toxic Parents…Even If They Don’t Deserve ItGrowing Up, I Hated My Dad. Now I See Him DifferentlyWhy I Make Every Big Life Decision Without Telling Family or FriendsAfter Years of Trauma, This Is What Choosing Myself Looks Like Every Day
Learning How to Be Lighter: Unburdening Myself from a Past of Abuse
Abraham Maslow has a quotethat goes something like this, “If the only tool you have is a hammer, [..] you treat everything as if it were a nail.”This quote perfectly sumsup my approach to life from my late teens to my early twenties. After years ofabuse both at home and at school, I emerged with thickened skin to the point ofarmour. Actually, scratch that.Have you ever seen a baseball bat that’s encased in barbed wire and nails?Consider that a pretty accurate visual representation of the persona I chose. I felt so vulnerable and untrusting that I overcompensated with aggression and knee-jerk defensiveness. Ultimately though, I realized the repercussions of showing up to the world with such a rough exterior. Sure, I could win arguments and was the dominant one in almost every group setting, but being this way felt like an on-going uphill battle. Outside of being outright draining, this persona also attracted the wrong people and put me in the wrong situations. I realised this through lots of introspection and journaling, and when I did, one word kept emerging as what I wanted to be instead. That word was ‘lighter’. Taking the weight of the past off my shouldersAfter seeing the toll thatthe weight of the past’s pains and angers had, especially on my closestrelationships, I chose to do something about it. Something that would bring mecloser to that elusive feeling of being unburdened. The first thing I did was distance myself from the people and places that made me feel unsafe. Anyone or anywhere that made me feel like I needed to flex upwards on my defensiveness was out. And trust me when I say, this is so much easier to type right now than it was to execute. I found myself removing family members and friends alike. It was a highly intuitive process that set the tone for me being able to comfortably strip away my rough exterior layers. There’s a quote that putsthis entire process into words beautifully, You cannot heal in the same environment that made you sick. UnknownLearning to be confident in my strength But, I learned that itwasn’t enough to just leave the people and places that made me feel like I hadto be something I wasn’t. I also had to leave the version of me behind that wasin those circumstances in the first place.This part took some time for me to get my head around. Especially because my first instinct was to say none of it was my fault. Which, to be fair, was partially true. My parents abused me emotionally and physically from a young age, and in school, a bully just really had it out for me.Still, instead of thinking of all the things that I couldn’t control, I focused on what I could. Why? Because being victim to circumstances was a big part of the feeling of helplessness that I so poorly disguised with aggressiveness in the first place.So, I found my next step in unburdening myself to be one of character building. I taught myself internal strength so that I knew history would not repeat itself. This strength came by way of keeping small daily promises to myself that were based on principles, integrity and discipline.The more competent and steadfast I felt in my identity, the more confident I felt that I would always be able to do what’s in my best interest and protect myself. Visualizing letting goThe final part of this process was both the most fun and the most impactful. I couldn’t tell you where I first heard of the technique, whether it was in a podcast or a book, but I can tell you that it changed my life. During my meditations, when I would get to a place of steady focus, I would shift into visualize myself getting physically lighter. I would imagine weight being lifted from my body, letting me float effortlessly. I would concentrate on the feeling, letting myself feel the freedom and the joy. Another visualization technique I would use was to imagine the people in my life that I had any pain or sadness attached to. I would then imagine taking scissors and cutting the cord between the two of us, letting them peacefully drift away. Both of these visualization practices have allowed me to shed the layers of defense that I put up. Nowadays, I find myself laughing more, connecting deeper and enjoying life more fully. I am myself. My delicate,sensitive, kind self. I share this because this process of being lighter hasbeen a worthwhile journey. If you feel like you’ll benefit, I hope you take thejourney, too. Your friend, Ivy Gill This post is a part of a series on my life experiences, written to help others who may relate. Find more of my writing here. More inspiring stories:Why I Make Every Big Life Decision Without Telling Family or FriendsAfter Years of Trauma, This Is What Choosing Myself Looks Like Every DayGrowing Up, I Hated My Dad. Now I See Him Differently4 Subtle Signs You Had Toxic Parents and It’s Still Affecting You
After Years of Trauma, This Is What Choosing Myself Looks Like Every Day
When I started my self-development journey, I stumbled upon so many different themes and ideologies within it. There were broad categories like self-love and then there were concepts that were relevant to my unique journey, like the need to re-parent myself.And with every category, came 101 different tips and strategies from everyone, from scholars and academics to bloggers and your average Joe. I was such an enthusiast though, that I ate it all up. Todate, I’ve read 100+ books, listened to hours on end of podcasts, gone toseminars and had professional training. After almost a decade of learning and absorbing, there is one thing that has stuck with me more than anything else: learning how to choose myself every single day. Four ways I show up for myself, for better or for worse In short, to choose myself is to do what I know to be best for me. Now, before I start this list, let me first say, this did not come natural to me, at all. Self-betrayal was my default for many years as a result of conditioning and upbringing. That’s not to say I didn’t know what was in my best interest because any time I posed the question, my mind would have a loud and clear answer. It was that even though I knew it logically- sometimes emotionally too, I found it hard to put it into action. So, with this list, I’m hoping you’ll have the kind of road map I wish I did when I wanted to turn my self-sabotage into honoring what I knew I was capable of being. 1. I choose myself by learning my happiness equationMy happiness equation is as it sounds--a number of things that I’ve identified that go into making my happiness sustainable. For me, these range from making sure I’m creating (I am an artist and writer by profession and passion, after all), getting outside for a walk or a run, meditating, being in a clean house and drinking lots of water. Sure, there are a lot of other things that bring me fleeting moments of joy like eating chocolate or talking to someone I like, but I’ve taken the time to separate those things from the necessities.This awareness and introspectionis like a compass now, always leading me back to myself and the basics when theworld can feel like it’s getting too chaotic.Oh, and I should mention, I need to learn my happiness equation time and time over, because just like me, it’s always changing. That’s why I do things to cultivate mindfulness, like meditation and journaling. 2. I choose myself by being disciplinedThis was the hardest part, I had so much resistant to building discipline because I thought it was anti-creativity, anti-freedom. And as someone who was once on the ‘minimal to none’ part of the discipline spectrum, trust me when I say that couldn’t be further from the truth.Discipline allows me to be the kind of person who does what they say they’re going to do. I get to respect myself and that’s huge. When I have a disciplined day, I have kept promises I made to myself and I have done today what I could have procrastinated until tomorrow. And what I’ve found to be true about discipline is that the results of it compound. The results of a disciplined week, month or year show so significantly in my mind, body and soul, that it truly feels like a gift to me, from me. 3. I choose myself by acknowledging the past, but always looking forwardComing from a tough childhood, I learned early on in my 20s that this was something I needed to face head on, otherwise I would be living in an echo of the past. I learned that if I didn’t acknowledge and use my past to my benefit, it would use me to play out old patterns. But, what was even harder to learn, was exactly how much time to spend on the past. I had done the bulk of my healing, but that didn’t mean that feelings and memories didn’t resurface. So, how long before I was dwelling on it? How long before I wasn’t present anymore? Or worse- how long before I was playing victim? I’ve experienced that the answer is different every time. I show myself compassion and I'm intuitive on what needs to done in the moment, but I always make sure I’m grounded in the present and moving forward. 4. I choose myself by being steadfast in my identityFinally, I show up for myself by refusing to base my identity on anything outside of me. I used measure my identity and self-worth on things like how productive I was, whether X person liked me or how my business was going that month. I've learned that while people, places, money, business, etc. all make up my experience in life, they have nothing to do with who I am. I work on my self-assurance every day so that I can be stoic when things outside of me are temporary or short-lived, and bask in the enjoyment of things being great.And there you have it, how I've learned to make choosing myself the highest form of self love. I share this story because it's made such a positive difference in my life and I wish the same for you, too.Your friend,Ivy GillThis post is a part of a series on my life experiences, written to help others who may relate. Find more of my writing here.More inspiring stories:Growing Up, I Hated My Dad. Now I See Him DifferentlyI Realized My Relationship With My Mother Was Actually Toxic And Learned to Parent MyselfThe Silent Killer: How Not Talking About Relationship Anxiety Hurt My New Love4 Subtle Signs You Had Toxic Parents and It’s Still Affecting You
Growing Up, I Hated My Dad. Now I See Him Differently
By the time I was in my preteens, my dad had become a full-fledged alcoholic and regularly abusive. The domestic abuse led to child protective services visiting multiple times, and a few nights at the local police station. Then, when I was 13, I got a call. There had been another fight at home, so I should go to my Grandparents’ house instead. When I got there, the decision had been made- a divorce, once and for all.And just like that, two things ended; the place I called a home, and all communication with my dad.My dad, the ‘villain’ in our homeThe truth is, not seeing or hearing from my dad wasn’t hard at all. We barely had a relationship. To me, he brought terror into the home. I didn’t like him, and I had made it known for as long as I can remember. In one little act of rebellion, I was on the computer after school when he came home. I knew he had come home, but I chose not to acknowledge him. He hit me so hard, my chair fell backwards and I hit my head on the floor. I didn’t say ‘hi’ to him the next day either. People aren't black or white--learning to acknowledge the greySo, while theyears rolled by, I didn’t miss my Dad. I was getting older though. And with myage, I began to see cracks in my childhood that I didn’t know were there. As I grewinto a teenager, I became more perceptive, smarter and more individualistic inmy thinking. I started to notice my mom in ways I hadn’t before. I noticed how often she lied, I noticed how often she tried to use manipulation as a control tactic, I noticed how wrong her relationship was (I’ll circle back to this). By this point I had long known that neither one of my parents were ideal, but I had held on to the belief that my dad was ‘the bad one.’ A child’s narrative vs. an adult’s story It took years before I was emotionally and mentally intelligent enough to piece together the truth of my family. I discovered that at the centre of this truth was my mom’s affair. She started to see no other than my dad's sister’s husband since my sibling and I were toddlers. This was no secret. She explicitly told me when I was 5, and from then on, she used her kids as pawns in her affair. She would have us lie for her, eavesdrop if my dad’s sister came over to talk to him, and play house when she would invite him over when my dad was at work. But that’s not all, my mom also made sure that we had little relationship with our dad. We never celebrated his birthday-- I couldn’t even tell you which month it is in. When I was 7 or 8, my dad tried to teach me how to read and write in our native language, I sat on his lap. My mom stared at me until I got off. Then she stared at me until I stopped learning. When he began to grow suspicious of her affair (she sometimes even blatantly flirted with the guy in front of everyone- including my dad- at family functions), she would make fun of our dad. She would say that he acted like a crazy person. My dad, the weak man who brokeThis veil that had covered my mom in pious white and my dad in devil black was lifting, and all I could think was how I could have been so easily manipulated. She encouraged and rewarded us kids to treat him like an outsider for as long as I can remember, and we complied. Maybe we were just desperate to have a mother’s love, I don’t know, but we did it. We ignored him, we gave him attitude, we protected her affair, we chose her side. As he grew more privy to her affair, the drinking started. The abuse started. The timing was not a coincidence. Oftentimes, arguments would start in the house about the affair. Before I knew it, my dad would be closing the curtains- something that I knew always preceded a violent, sometimes bloody, fight. And that’s when I knew to go hide. So, while I knew he would never win ‘Father of the Year,’ and our relationship was likely irreparable, the truth was still important to me: My mom used us and sacrificed our relationship with our dad to support her affair from an age so young, that we had no chance.But another truth, equally as hard to swallow, was this: "My dad did not have to turn to alcohol or abuse. Those too were choices, choices that, regardless of the provocation and the helplessness he felt, he was ultimately responsible for."The importance of forgivenessToday, I have little to no relationship with my mom or my dad. But I know now, that my dad wasn’t the villain. When I deciphered the haze of my childhood, built of lies and manipulation, I started to be able to remember some of the happier times. Times, when despite how I treated him- how we all treated him- he held me when I fell, or cried during a movie. Times that showed the bits of beautiful humanity that somehow survived. My dad’s weakness was that he caved under the dynamics of a family that I wouldn’t wish upon anyone, and you know what? I forgive him. I hope he forgives me, too. I share this story because I know first-hand how difficult it can be to erase childhood conditioning and navigate through parental lies, especially when told at a young age. I know how confusing it can be to see different sides of a person, especially when trauma, abuse and pain are involved. And I know how lonely the process can be.When we ownour stories, we can move forward, detached from the past.Your friend, Ivy Gill This post is a part of a series on my life experiences, written to help others who may relate. Find more of my writing here.More inspiring stories:I Realized My Relationship With My Mother Was Actually Toxic And Learned to Parent MyselfThe Silent Killer: How Not Talking About Relationship Anxiety Hurt My New Love4 Subtle Signs You Had Toxic Parents and It’s Still Affecting You6 Signs You Had An Emotionally Abusive Parent and Didn’t Know It
