I’ve not shared much with you all lately about my therapy sessions. This wasn’t a deliberate choice just the way it has been. I will attempt to share as much as reasonably comfortable in this post.
This weekend I am taking a trip to face my fears. It is something I have been running away from as long as I can remember, perhaps, all my life. In therapy I have been building to this final act of catharsis I am about to embark upon and believe me it is very much about fear.
For as long as I can remember my mother never felt “normal”. She was always angry and detached. Some of this comes from her post natal depression however not all of it can be attributed to that. When I was about 11 or 12 I remember the first time I realised I was not alone in this assessment of her. I had up until that point fought her every step of the way, hearing this other assessment made me fight harder against this tyrannical regime. My mother was not normal and I would not let her force her way of being upon me.
Without going into the real meat and bones of it all I was physically and mentally abused from the age of about 2 until the age of around 14. The culprit was, sadly, my own mother. She has never changed to this day in her behaviour towards everyone in the family. We have others who have put up with her behaviour and allowed her to walk all over them. In their case they were adults and made that choice but I was a child.
I am going to attempt to return to my family home, in a respectful way I will attempt to address my childhood with the creator and the gatekeeper of it. I am going to walk into the dragons lair, attempt not to slay it but to lay myself open in front of it, hope that it looks at the wounded animal in front of it and the magnitude of what it did will hit it.
So back to therapy. I am going to write some things that I suppose I accept but I cannot fully embrace now and I hope you all understand.
My therapist says that despite my concerns I am not my mother. Over the course of the past 12 weeks he has not seen in front of him the person I describe. I said that I wanted to reach inside myself and rip every part of her out of me but he says I do not need to. She is not here. I had the rare ability found in about 5/10% of people to be able to look at her and realise that her way is not the right way. He says I should take comfort in this, that my intelligence and logic in dealing with things is a gift that few people have.
I don’t know how this makes me feel. I am detached completely from the whole of the above paragraph. It goes back to my previous post on perception. I perceived myself to be my mother. I thought I had the problems she does and I think I just realised I don’t. He said that she taught me lessons like when I was a bully at school. I learned that was not
right and not for me. She taught me that. I hate what I did and regret it. I have done other things of which I am not proud but I made the mistakes and I learned from them. That is my gift. I am the mould breaker.