Learned Love

Looking back at all of the men that I’ve dated through the years, most of them have one thing in common: they all needed to be “saved”. I’d always be drawn to the men whose flaws mirrored my mother’s. They didn’t all have every single one, but none of them were capable of truly loving me, because they didn’t know how to love themselves. Maybe subconsciously, I was trying to make up for the fact that I couldn’t save my mother, or maybe I had just become so used to being hurt that it just seemed natural to me.

It wasn’t until I went to counseling that I realized how unhealthy my love life had been. I started going to see a therapist after having my heart broken by the same guy for the 10th time. I thought he was the root of my problems, and boy, was I wrong. As time went on, I stopped talking about him and almost exclusively talked about my mother. It’s really scary how big of a role your parents have in what your mental state is as an adult. I just wanted my mother to love me. I just wanted these men to love me. Neither could do so until they got over their own demons, which I could not be responsible for. I sometimes have to keep telling myself this, as I always have this nagging feeling of responsibility.

My mother did actually show up this weekend…..hours late and an hour before I had to leave. I tried so hard to keep my thoughts to myself, since it was Mother’s Day, but I was so angry with her that I just kept making these back handed jabs at her. “I’m sure all the extra weight doesn’t help how badly your knee hurts.” “Stop acting like your mastectomy ruined your life. You fought and you won. Who cares about the scars.” My boyfriend of 4 years (the first healthy relationship I’ve ever been in) kept kicking me under the table to let me know I’d said too much, but part of me didn’t care. She lost her job because of her drinking and instead of helping herself and getting a new job, all she does is sit on the couch, drink her damn boxed wine, and order excessive amounts of take out food. She has no income, and instead of doing anything to get back on her feet, she keeps taking money out of her retirement. She’s gained so much weight in the year since I’ve seen her and has developed a wheeze when she moves. As much shit as she puts me through, it scares me to honestly face the fact that she’s slowly killing herself.

I’ve tried everything to get her to want to help herself. I used to spend most of my life trying to get her to fix hers, but I’ve had to learn how to distance myself, which doesn’t always work. I’m an only child. What kind of a child would I be if I just abandoned her, even if it was to save myself?

Toxicity

If you’re like me and surf all of the popular websites, like Buzzfeed, or even scrolling your Facebook newsfeed, you’ll see post after post about how to weed all of the toxic people out of your life. It’s healthy to get rid of those people who do nothing but cause negativity in your life……but what do you do when that person happens to be your mother?

I’ve spent the past few nights laying awake struggling with anxiety. I’m supposed to see my mother on Sunday for Mother’s Day and I haven’t seen her in almost a year. I’ve tried to visit her, and even invited her to come down for Christmas, but my mother always finds an excuse at the last minute not to follow through. This is where the anxiety comes in. “What if she does it again? What if I allow myself to get my hopes up and she just cancels at the last minute? What if she does come and I can’t hide how bitter I feel?” All these thoughts. Over and over again.

I love my mother. I always will. That’s what makes this whole “get rid of those toxic people in your life” thing so difficult. It’s always been just the two of us, so I’ve always felt this sort of responsibility for her and her happiness. I will never give up on her and I will always fight to have the relationship that we both deserve, but there has to be some sort of a balance.

Let me begin to brush the surface of my overly complicated, guilt-ridden, hurt filled relationship with my mother.

My mother had tried for years and through two marriages to have a baby. Nothing worked. Years later, her and my father had been dating on-and-off, and lo and behold, I came along. My father decided very early on that I wasn’t his and that he wanted nothing to do with me (but Daddy Issues are for another blog). My mother wanted me so badly and decided to raise me on her own. I know that she gave up an awful lot for me, and I will always be grateful for that. I had a very happy childhood and didn’t want for anything. It’s wasn’t until I got older that the drinking started. Or, perhaps the drinking was always there. Maybe my childish ignorance shielded me from what was really happening.

She started drinking heavily when she reconnected with an old friend of hers when I was about 7 or 8. It was social at first, and we’d go off on these boat/camping trips and the adults would just constantly drink. I didn’t think anything of it. This behavior then continued even after the boat parties had ended. I know that my mother has her demons, but that’s for another post. Alcohol is her escape, her savior, her pain medication. Her anxiety always got the best of her, and she would constantly take her fear out on me. I would be told that I could go to a friend’s house, and then she would change her mind just as I was getting ready to leave. She’d always have one excuse or another as to why I couldn’t go and why I had to stay home. I feel myself dealing with learned anxiety at times, and that’s one of the reasons why I decided to start writing about this part of my life.

I first realized that my mother had a problem when I was in high school. I wasn’t allowed to have people over to the house anymore and had a very tight leash put on me (figuratively). She rarely ever left the house except to go to work. The second she would get home, she’d be filling a glass with her boxed wine. I never felt like I could go to her with my problems or for advice because she was always intoxicated when I needed her most. I learned a lot about life on my own. Thank goodness I was very close with my grandparents, but I still just wanted my mother to be a mother. I didn’t want a friend. I didn’t want somebody who would offer me a glass of wine when I had been dumped. I just wanted my mother.

Her drinking has done nothing but consume her since. She has lost almost everything because of alcohol. She’s lost her job, her friends, and almost me, her only child. I know that if she was anybody else besides my mother, I would have cut her out of my life a long time ago, but every time that thought even crosses my mind, I’m overwhelmed with guilt. All I’ve heard since I was very young is “You’re all I have”. How can I abandon her if I’m all she’s got? The thing is, she could have so much more if she didn’t push every single person away from her that wants to help.

I don’t mean to write so much, but it feels cleansing to put my thoughts and feelings to page. I’ve been pushing away a lot of pain, aggression, rage, hurt, and tears through the years. I really hope that by continuing to tell my story, I’ll be able to begin healing, and maybe even help a few others to heal as well. I know I’m not the only one out there dealing with a mother that I love, but also feel so incredibly bitter towards. Toxic or not, my relationship with my mother isn’t something that can be easily cut off, no matter how many life advice articles tell me it’s not healthy.