Daughter Chronicles

Introduction

In our culture, mothers are rightfully regarded with the utmost respect. People think that motherhood is a sacred institution which should not be tainted by any criticism. It is therefore extremely hard for me to come out in the open with the story of my mom’s abuse of me. I probably will never be able to do so in real life as I do not want to hurt mom. I feel so much sadness and anxiety at the very thought of it. But even in this virtual world, under a pseudonym, I find talking about the truth very intimidating. I can almost hear people trying to smother my dissenting voice, chastising me with disapproving glances and saying “So, your mother abused you, so what? You, ungrateful wretch, didn’t she feed and clothe you? Why don’t you just forget the whole thing? Move on with your life.”

That is exactly what I want to be able to do. I would really like to move on with my life. I have tried to have a sane adult face-to-face conversation with mom where I hoped we could sort out all our issues but mom does not want to have any of it and it took a long time for me to realize that she prefers to be what she is. Do I then just cast out that part of me that suffers in silence? Mutilating my psyche will not make me whole. Drag my severed soul to new horizons? I tried that too until the burdens that crush my heart became so great that I have come to a grinding halt. I spread my wings and flew as high as I could but the chains of pain pull me back and I hang in tatters between heaven and earth.

The fact is that the abuse is still not over as we live in the same house. She still abuses me every day. She cannot go beyond verbal abuse anymore because I will not let her violate my physical boundaries but emotionally, mentally, and psychologically I suffer a lot. My spirit and soul gets crushed day in and out. I face the world with severe anxiety and a weight in my heart.

I have been coached all my life by mom that I must keep my troubles to myself, that I should not burden anyone with my worries that I should give and give without deserving anything in return. I tried my best to do this, to keep it all bottled up and to help everyone else deal with their dysfunction but I have not healed my wounds.

I went to a psychologist, told him my story to get some help to deal with mom’s abuses but the psych cannot help until mom comes for therapy which she refuses to. I must emphasize now that I love my mom even though she has very dysfunctional patterns of behavior. I honour her by not being abusive when she is and love her by drawing my boundaries and respecting myself. If forgiveness means not harboring any hatred for your abuser and helping them in a positive way, then I display forgiveness for my mom every day. Outwardly my life looks great. I love writing and painting and I have many well wishers who encourage me in these hobbies but no one knows my pain. I am very devoted to God or the One Absolute Eternal Reality as I would like to call Him and all my strength is due to Him alone. He has been my friend, my parent, my constant source of help and companion all along. He has carried me through life. If I am continually striving to reach my full potential, it is because of Him. He taught me to identify my true self. Now my next goal is to replace the behavioural patterns and belief systems that are hindering me from growth with healthier patterns. This involves facing all the trauma and pain I have within me and integrating that part of me with the whole. I am grateful for this opportunity to keep an online log of this deeper inner journey which I am embarking on. I am also thanking in advance all those who may in the future keep me company in this most difficult endeavour.

Monday, 17 February 2014

In the beginning, there was no ‘me’

I am yet to talk about the worst of the abuses that my parents inflicted upon me. The only person who knows at least an outline of all that I had to go through is the psychologist whom I consulted in the hope of seeking some help for mom. He told me that in the 40 years of his professional life, he had never heard of such suffering. He asked me to leave mom and go as far away as possible and live a happy life. He asked me how I survived and how I could be this functional, who was my role model and my answer to that was and will always be – God. He loved me when none did and He held me close and never left me alone.

I never thought that my life was any different from that of anyone else. Of course every night for the first two decades of my life, tears would just roll off my eyes silently but I thought suffering was the natural order of life and in my mind everyone suffered and I certainly did not seem to be worse off than anyone else. In fact, I hardly gave any thought to myself. Till I was 21, I never thought of ‘me’ as having any identity separate from that of mom because that is how I was raised, to be an extension of her.

The good thing about not having an ego of your own is that you live from your true self – pure awareness. You are the observer of your thoughts and feelings and they come and go without affecting you much. But what does not come to the forefront brews in the unconscious unable to voice its opinion. I had no idea what emotion I was having, what was that I wanted, why I was in distress, much less who I was. After my marriage, I finally moved out of my parent’s house and I was living in a foreign country with my husband. On some days, I would appear gloomy and my husband would ask me what I was feeling? Was I angry at him? What was wrong? I had never heard such a thing. Nobody had ever asked me what I was feeling ever! This was so new and I thought it was abnormal and intrusive. There were some strong waves of ‘something’ going through when I observed my mind but I had no idea what it was all about. My husband asked me again and again until I could not take it anymore and I blurted out something in response. He said that I was angry and I thought “Is that what it is?”

Later I had to piece together all those things that people usually take for granted - to know what I like or dislike, to identify whether I am sad or angry or happy, to feel my body, to care for myself, to be a separate person with a unique identity. The variety of human emotions and personalities and ideas amazes me. Like the diversity in the shape and colour and fragrance of flowers that God has created delights us, I fondly look at each person and their individuality with wonder and a prayer in my heart.