Thanks for your thoughtful reply, Nan. Yes, it definitely sounds like you need to draw those boundary lines, at least in chalk! I am so sorry to hear about your brother. I have unfortunately learned how life can change in an instant. My hopes and prayers for his recovery.
Thank you. And yes, that's life. We do ourselves a huge service when we learn to live in the moment, because nothing else is real. I spent most of my life perseverating about the future. Living in a state of "What ifs, then what's next?" Oy. xo
This is on of your most brave, vulnerable, and insightful essays, Nan. In my own healing journey with a complicated, childish, and emotionally unstable, yet loving mother, I decided to become to my own children the kind of mother I wished to have had. She gave me many gifts (I am a writer thanks to her) alongside a lot of pain. Dementia softened her personality. Seeing her grow frail and weak, lose her independence, allowed for my forgiveness and sympathy. I knew she loved me and was proud of my accomplishments. I helped care for her the past several years out of a sense of duty and honor to my dead father who cherished her. My larger than life mother died 2 weeks ago. Although it was a long goodbye, I was still thrown of kilter by the utter finality.
Hi Evelyn, so much has changed since I wrote this piece. I didn't keep to my no-contact decision for more than a bunch of months, mostly because I still have work to do on our relationship, and because my brother, her son was in a tragic motorcycle accident, and though he's very much alive, we're looking at the possibility that he may he may not recover his former independence. It's a slow, slow recovery, and my mother is a wreck. She needs to have one child who's okay to talk to and cry with. That much said, we seem to be on another break. This last round of talking and laughing and sharing did culminate in my forgiving her, but it's always a matter of time before we rupture again. I can forgive her, but I won't tolerate being yelled at, hung up on, and lied about to others when she becomes emotionally abusive. Then I step away. We probably will do this for the rest of our lives. It's not what I want, but drawing a line is necessary for my well-being. And I love her. And there are times when it's better to step away and take a breath. Thanks for stopping by, and my condolences on the loss of your mom. It's never a clean break. I'm pretty sure they live in our heads and our hearts forever. xo
Talking to her on and off. Since my brother's accident, I feel it would be unkind to desert her. Trying to keep good boundaries and be kind at the same time. xo
I avoided my mom for years. After a while what she said and did didn't affect me so much. In the end it changed. In the end I was the last person she awoke from her coma and spoke to. I was honored to be there when she expressed her love at the end. Some of us are not cut out to be mothers, but do it anyway. And in that way it's a blessing that you are here. xo
It is a blessing that I'm here. But it took me 60 years to see that and to be happy about being here. Some women aren't cut out to be mothers. Some women aren't cut out to be daughters. I opted out of motherhood for lots of reasons, but the biggest one was that I didn't want to repeat the cycle of dysfunction, and because that's how I was raised, in dysfunction, I was terrified that I could harm a child. I don't regret my choice one bit. xo
Thank you. Yes, it's the hardest thing I've ever done, felt, lived. I have so much compassion for her, but I can't do more at this time in my life. I have to take care of myself. xo
Nan, I’m sitting here with tears rolling down. 😭Your story held a mirror to my own ache three years no contact with my mother, and still peeling back the layers of grief, guilt, and impossible hope. You named the very questions I ask in the dark: Am I giving up too soon? Will it ever be different? Is this love, or just old wiring? Thank you for your courage, for writing what so many of us feel but freeze around. This is why I created the HSP Sanctuary to hold space for voices like yours, for truth like this. I just subscribed. I’m so grateful Abbey’s post led me to you. You’re not alone. 💛
We are not alone. That's what I really learned from writing this essay, because I've had more response to this one than anything else I've written in my time here. And we need to keep talking about it, writing about it, and crying about it, until maybe the tears are done. I've experienced a lot of lightness the last couple of weeks, and still there is sadness and regret. But I'm not questioning my choice, not second-guessing myself, as I've done in the past. And the door isn't closed, I'm open to possibilities, shifts in me and maybe one day in her. But I've also learned that with forgiving, there are options. That I can forgive her, and it doesn't mean that I have to be in it to have my forgiveness be real. One day at a time, my dear. It's all we can do. xo
Thank you for your courage to share what I believe so many can benefit from reading/listening to, knowing they are not alone. Like the saying goes: your story can be the key 🔑 to someone else’s prison.
And btw that insanity statement is actually a misunderstanding of human psychology- explains the Holistic Psychologist- because our brain 🧠 will keep repeating the same patterns that it’s used to, until it is given a better alternative and slowly gets used to that.
You're welcome. The response I received was shocking to me, that so many of us can relate to this experience. As far as the insanity quote goes, it's a pithy saying often used in recovery rooms. I first heard it when I was 15 and it always made sense to me. It really does describe repetition compulsion which is a behavior I've experienced as a trauma survivor. I think, the Holistic Psychologist and I are more or less saying the same thing, when it comes down to it. Yes, having a better alternative and being able to identify it as such, would be the first step in attaining some peace. Thanks, Shifra. xo
Nan, you are so not alone in this struggle, but sadly the struggle is one we must come to terms with and decide how to hand on our own. I just wrote about my mother, also a narcissist, in my last post. She was not as honest as your mother in her manipulations. They were so underhanded, but the message and effect were the same.
As I read your essay, I thought back to myself at 64. I am now 80. My mother lived until I was 75. I lived three quarters of a century (think of it!) without doing the brave and beautiful thing you are doing. Maybe I would not have let go as you have, but I could have braved some hard conversations with her, some honest ones, which I never did, and I regret that. I regret that I never could overcome my fear of her control on me and rejecting me finally and forever, as she did anyway in her withholding of love ways, but I did not do the hard thing and have those conversation with her, nor did I write my story. Fear held me back. Fear of her. Fear of my own reckoning with a truth I kept beneath the surface and did all that she required of me. (It wasn’t worth it!)
"The desire for vengeance that sometimes comes up, the anger I feel, are rooted in disappointment that goes so deep, it feels bottomless.” The fear was probably deeper than I knew, and I think this line right her that you wrote is the basis of that fear.
Sending love and solidarity and hope for you. It’s a short, very short, ride from 64 to 80. Live today! Live every single day. It is YOUR life to live. Hugs.
Thank you so much for taking the time to comment here. It's so valuable for me to read of other's experiences. It's very hard to have any kind of productive conversation with my mother, because she doesn't really own her stuff. The conversation that lead me to my choice was one I had with myself, my higher power, my sponsor, and my therapist. I think it's the next right thing for me to do, because, yes, you're right, it's a very short ride from 64-80, and I'm finally living the life I always wanted. I want the remaining years of my life to be full of joy, creativity, and making a difference in other people's lives. I will read your essay. Thank you for telling me about it. Go, girl, you've got this. Hugs, back! xo
And your words mean a lot to me. I'm sorry I'm so late to the game--life can be so overwhelming sometimes--but I saved this one for a quiet moment because I knew it was going to be special. <3
Thank you, again, K. Would you be willing to restack the post? I'd love to keep getting this one out there. So women identify, unfortunately. This week's post (today's) continues the story...xo
I rarely agreed or was inspired by the choices my mother made in life, but I learned to honor her right to make them. That's the best I could do. When she died, our relationship didn't end. Now it's an ongoing quiet conversation which has afforded me a little more understanding and a little more peace. Biggest of hugs, ~stephanie
I hear you, Stephanie. And yes, I don’t expect the conversation to end for me, I just want to come to it with the most discernment and compassion I can muster. I’m open to whatever the next right thing is for me. My dad died 14 years ago, and in many ways, I’m still very much connected to him. But now, I have the space to go deep into understanding better who he was, and who we were for each other as father and daughter. I’m unearthing things; some beautiful and some eye-opening, to say the least. Grateful to be where I am in my life today. Everything that happened to me over my lifetime has brought me to who I am.
What an incredible piece of writing. It couldn't have been easy to write from such a place of vulnerability even though as you mentioned, you feel free now. My heart hurts that you've been treated so badly by the person who's supposed to love you most.
I'm glad you've taken the reins. I admire your courage. I admire YOU. Big hugs, my friend.
Hi, Nancy, thank you. It wasn't easy and at the same time, it was. It flowed out of me, and I do feel free. At the same time, my mother is on my mind a lot, and will be, I'm sure, as I navigate this new way of being. It's hard, because the other way was what I was accustomed to. It was our dynamic. No more. It's not going to be easy, but I'm keeping an open heart, and I've got great support, therapy, 12 Step, and the support of my friends, old and new. I don't feel alone at all. That's new, too. Big hugs back to you. xo
"It’s killing my joy. It’s holding me back. It fills me with dread." 😢
It took me forever to write an essay for a contest because I wrote about my mother & father while stuck in charge of my mother's care. Because I don't let others suffer. Sometimes it goes well; other times it's killing pieces of my soul.
Yes, we are. I love that, "trauma breakers." I respect your choice to care for her. That's super-human in my book. Thanks for reading, and commenting, Donna. xo
Thank you, Nan! I'm doing my best to show our adult children the good, bad & ugly of relationships and why I stay (with boundaries) or go. It's not pretty.
I'm the only one that has to live with the entirety of all my decisions. However they are affected, as is my husband. I keep breaking that generational trauma patterns for everyone's better futures. Hugs
Hugs back, Donna. I'm glad you're supporting your kids, and helping them discern healthy choices. We all have to live with our choices, but so many of us need to learn that it's entirely appropriate to put ourselves first, to make sure our needs are met, and in that way, we can then be more helpful to others. xo
Nan, this was amazing. I felt so much of my own relationship with my mother in it. She died a few years ago, and she’s been on my mind recently. She was dark and light. Engulfing and narcissistic, thoughtful and kind to people. She died of dementia and I’ve been without her truly for years now. But there is an anger in me and there are things I feel I still cannot say. You give me courage. Maybe I’ll say them someday.
Also, this line: “It’s time for me to give up the wish that she’ll be different if I keep doing the work.” … I think this has driven so many relationships in my life, including that with my emotionally unavailable ex.
Thank you for giving me much to reflect on, for telling your truth. Keep going ❤️
Thank YOU, Katie. All the things you say about your mother, engulfing and narcissistic, thoughtful and kind. My mother glows and claims to love people. She has a wonderful silliness about her. But the engulfing, the devouring, the narcissism is too much for me. I've brought so much of the damage I've experienced into my intimate relationships. Learning how to trust, open myself to another, not try to control situations; these are the things I work on. I'm not saying that it was my mother's fault. I had a father, too, who added to my mix of challenges, but the dynamic I grew up with sure didn't help me. I was so enmeshed, it's taken me years to fully understand the consequences of their deficits. You keep going, too. We deserve to live our lives for us. And if you write about these things in your life one day, it might help free you up more, but you probably already know that. xo
Wow! Nan! This is an incredible word portrait of something so difficult and heart wrenching and complex. And you laid it out there, bare, raw, and honest.
I know it’s not easy. But your courage, your love for own well being is admirable.
Sending you so much love as you continue to navigate one of the most challenging of relationships - that one between a mother and a daughter.
Courageous essay. Your creativity springs from a mountain of hurt, yet you write with a thoughtful precision, a love of language, and a determination to resolve a long-standing trouble. Well done, on all accounts.
"...I got clear yesterday," is just beautiful. I'm sorry that Grace seems to keep its own schedule, but all these good friends of yours rejoice with you.
Thanks for the Sweet Honey link. Beautiful. Small world: my wife is friends with Ysaye Barnwell, a former Sweet Honey member. And Toshi Reagon (daughter of Bernice) was a student of mine back in 1979-81. Way back!
Thank you, Stewart. Oh, my. It's quite a life, isn't it? I love that your wife is friends with Ysaye. And I definitely know who Toshi is! The best group. And PS...thanks for becoming a paid subscriber. That means the world to me. Hope we'll meet again. xo
Nan, this essay is so extremely astute and brave. it's been 12 years since I've spoken to my mother. My sister recently reported that she's thinking about contacting me. "Lead with an apology for what you did," she told her. My mother replied, "But I'm not sorry." I didn't really need confirmation that I made the right decision, but still--there it was. xo
Yeah. I hear you. I'm in that place right now of feeling insecure about the choice. Not as clear as I was when I wrote this and published it. And I know that's going to come up for me. And I know that I'm not making a mistake, but 64 years is a long time to be insecurely attached to another person, a primary player in the story of my life. It's going to take time. I know. Love to you, Susan. Thank you for sharing your experience. Yes, "But I'm not sorry." Says it all, doesn't it? xo
I hear every bit of that. The hardest thing maybe was admitting she really was as broken as she seemed to be, and I couldn't fix or help her. I tried all the tries, all of them. Nope. But I could choose to stop letting her broken bits continue to hurt me and ultimately had to, in order to take loving care of me and my life. Again, reporting from years down the line, it's been horrifying to see the emotional abuse the sister still involved with her has endured. Be easy on yourself. We are compassionate and empathetic beings. It may take some back and forth time. And it's beyond difficult to do such a potentially very right thing that feels on the level of tribal humanness so very wrong.
You get it. There's a lot of pressure placed on children, on all family members really, that no matter how bad it is, you don't jump ship. FAMILY is everything, right? NOPE. Not when they hurt their own. I've been driven by guilt, by obligation, by deep longing and unfulfilled wish for something I'm never going to get. The very idea of not having to worry about my answer to her question, "when am I going to see you?" any more was the most wonderful feeling. To release myself from that high state of alert whenever we interacted, to not have to feel the high level of my hypervigilance, my way of protecting myself is so filled with relief. Step by step, day by day, it will become a new reality. My chance to individuate from the dysfunction is the choice that I've needed to make for ages. I should have been doing this as a teenage heading off to college, but I was so hooked, so fearful to stand on my own, that I held on even through the pain, the depressions, the confusion, the aimless wondering through my life, always wondering what was wrong with me. It's over. xo
Thanks for your thoughtful reply, Nan. Yes, it definitely sounds like you need to draw those boundary lines, at least in chalk! I am so sorry to hear about your brother. I have unfortunately learned how life can change in an instant. My hopes and prayers for his recovery.
Thank you. And yes, that's life. We do ourselves a huge service when we learn to live in the moment, because nothing else is real. I spent most of my life perseverating about the future. Living in a state of "What ifs, then what's next?" Oy. xo
This is on of your most brave, vulnerable, and insightful essays, Nan. In my own healing journey with a complicated, childish, and emotionally unstable, yet loving mother, I decided to become to my own children the kind of mother I wished to have had. She gave me many gifts (I am a writer thanks to her) alongside a lot of pain. Dementia softened her personality. Seeing her grow frail and weak, lose her independence, allowed for my forgiveness and sympathy. I knew she loved me and was proud of my accomplishments. I helped care for her the past several years out of a sense of duty and honor to my dead father who cherished her. My larger than life mother died 2 weeks ago. Although it was a long goodbye, I was still thrown of kilter by the utter finality.
Hi Evelyn, so much has changed since I wrote this piece. I didn't keep to my no-contact decision for more than a bunch of months, mostly because I still have work to do on our relationship, and because my brother, her son was in a tragic motorcycle accident, and though he's very much alive, we're looking at the possibility that he may he may not recover his former independence. It's a slow, slow recovery, and my mother is a wreck. She needs to have one child who's okay to talk to and cry with. That much said, we seem to be on another break. This last round of talking and laughing and sharing did culminate in my forgiving her, but it's always a matter of time before we rupture again. I can forgive her, but I won't tolerate being yelled at, hung up on, and lied about to others when she becomes emotionally abusive. Then I step away. We probably will do this for the rest of our lives. It's not what I want, but drawing a line is necessary for my well-being. And I love her. And there are times when it's better to step away and take a breath. Thanks for stopping by, and my condolences on the loss of your mom. It's never a clean break. I'm pretty sure they live in our heads and our hearts forever. xo
Supporting your decision. xo
Talking to her on and off. Since my brother's accident, I feel it would be unkind to desert her. Trying to keep good boundaries and be kind at the same time. xo
I avoided my mom for years. After a while what she said and did didn't affect me so much. In the end it changed. In the end I was the last person she awoke from her coma and spoke to. I was honored to be there when she expressed her love at the end. Some of us are not cut out to be mothers, but do it anyway. And in that way it's a blessing that you are here. xo
It is a blessing that I'm here. But it took me 60 years to see that and to be happy about being here. Some women aren't cut out to be mothers. Some women aren't cut out to be daughters. I opted out of motherhood for lots of reasons, but the biggest one was that I didn't want to repeat the cycle of dysfunction, and because that's how I was raised, in dysfunction, I was terrified that I could harm a child. I don't regret my choice one bit. xo
Thanks Betty.
so brave and hones and difficult!
Thank you. Yes, it's the hardest thing I've ever done, felt, lived. I have so much compassion for her, but I can't do more at this time in my life. I have to take care of myself. xo
Nan, I’m sitting here with tears rolling down. 😭Your story held a mirror to my own ache three years no contact with my mother, and still peeling back the layers of grief, guilt, and impossible hope. You named the very questions I ask in the dark: Am I giving up too soon? Will it ever be different? Is this love, or just old wiring? Thank you for your courage, for writing what so many of us feel but freeze around. This is why I created the HSP Sanctuary to hold space for voices like yours, for truth like this. I just subscribed. I’m so grateful Abbey’s post led me to you. You’re not alone. 💛
We are not alone. That's what I really learned from writing this essay, because I've had more response to this one than anything else I've written in my time here. And we need to keep talking about it, writing about it, and crying about it, until maybe the tears are done. I've experienced a lot of lightness the last couple of weeks, and still there is sadness and regret. But I'm not questioning my choice, not second-guessing myself, as I've done in the past. And the door isn't closed, I'm open to possibilities, shifts in me and maybe one day in her. But I've also learned that with forgiving, there are options. That I can forgive her, and it doesn't mean that I have to be in it to have my forgiveness be real. One day at a time, my dear. It's all we can do. xo
Goodness gracious 💔
Thank you for your courage to share what I believe so many can benefit from reading/listening to, knowing they are not alone. Like the saying goes: your story can be the key 🔑 to someone else’s prison.
And btw that insanity statement is actually a misunderstanding of human psychology- explains the Holistic Psychologist- because our brain 🧠 will keep repeating the same patterns that it’s used to, until it is given a better alternative and slowly gets used to that.
You're welcome. The response I received was shocking to me, that so many of us can relate to this experience. As far as the insanity quote goes, it's a pithy saying often used in recovery rooms. I first heard it when I was 15 and it always made sense to me. It really does describe repetition compulsion which is a behavior I've experienced as a trauma survivor. I think, the Holistic Psychologist and I are more or less saying the same thing, when it comes down to it. Yes, having a better alternative and being able to identify it as such, would be the first step in attaining some peace. Thanks, Shifra. xo
Nan, you are so not alone in this struggle, but sadly the struggle is one we must come to terms with and decide how to hand on our own. I just wrote about my mother, also a narcissist, in my last post. She was not as honest as your mother in her manipulations. They were so underhanded, but the message and effect were the same.
As I read your essay, I thought back to myself at 64. I am now 80. My mother lived until I was 75. I lived three quarters of a century (think of it!) without doing the brave and beautiful thing you are doing. Maybe I would not have let go as you have, but I could have braved some hard conversations with her, some honest ones, which I never did, and I regret that. I regret that I never could overcome my fear of her control on me and rejecting me finally and forever, as she did anyway in her withholding of love ways, but I did not do the hard thing and have those conversation with her, nor did I write my story. Fear held me back. Fear of her. Fear of my own reckoning with a truth I kept beneath the surface and did all that she required of me. (It wasn’t worth it!)
"The desire for vengeance that sometimes comes up, the anger I feel, are rooted in disappointment that goes so deep, it feels bottomless.” The fear was probably deeper than I knew, and I think this line right her that you wrote is the basis of that fear.
Sending love and solidarity and hope for you. It’s a short, very short, ride from 64 to 80. Live today! Live every single day. It is YOUR life to live. Hugs.
Huge hugs!!! Here’s to that short, but oh so wonderful walk to 80. 🫶
I hope it's not TOO short. I'd like to stop along the way to savor the sweet, the salty, the bitter, and the spicy! xo
Yes! Do that for sure.
Will do!
Thank you so much for taking the time to comment here. It's so valuable for me to read of other's experiences. It's very hard to have any kind of productive conversation with my mother, because she doesn't really own her stuff. The conversation that lead me to my choice was one I had with myself, my higher power, my sponsor, and my therapist. I think it's the next right thing for me to do, because, yes, you're right, it's a very short ride from 64-80, and I'm finally living the life I always wanted. I want the remaining years of my life to be full of joy, creativity, and making a difference in other people's lives. I will read your essay. Thank you for telling me about it. Go, girl, you've got this. Hugs, back! xo
Nan. This is so brave and beautiful. What a testament to self-care, to self-love. You are a force. XO
Thanks, Katrina. I'm so glad you read it. You're opinion means a lot to me. xo
And your words mean a lot to me. I'm sorry I'm so late to the game--life can be so overwhelming sometimes--but I saved this one for a quiet moment because I knew it was going to be special. <3
Thank you, again, K. Would you be willing to restack the post? I'd love to keep getting this one out there. So women identify, unfortunately. This week's post (today's) continues the story...xo
OF COURSE I will! <3
Thanks, my dear! xo
I rarely agreed or was inspired by the choices my mother made in life, but I learned to honor her right to make them. That's the best I could do. When she died, our relationship didn't end. Now it's an ongoing quiet conversation which has afforded me a little more understanding and a little more peace. Biggest of hugs, ~stephanie
I hear you, Stephanie. And yes, I don’t expect the conversation to end for me, I just want to come to it with the most discernment and compassion I can muster. I’m open to whatever the next right thing is for me. My dad died 14 years ago, and in many ways, I’m still very much connected to him. But now, I have the space to go deep into understanding better who he was, and who we were for each other as father and daughter. I’m unearthing things; some beautiful and some eye-opening, to say the least. Grateful to be where I am in my life today. Everything that happened to me over my lifetime has brought me to who I am.
THIS: "Everything that happened to me over my lifetime has brought me to who I am." The light, the love and the hope. Big hugs.
Thanks, Stephanie. Hugs right back to you! xo
Finally finished this one. Love this post, I love that you are mothering yourself, love your courage and your strength. Love you Nan!! 💕
Thank you, Lyns, Love you right back! xo
Hi Nan,
What an incredible piece of writing. It couldn't have been easy to write from such a place of vulnerability even though as you mentioned, you feel free now. My heart hurts that you've been treated so badly by the person who's supposed to love you most.
I'm glad you've taken the reins. I admire your courage. I admire YOU. Big hugs, my friend.
Hi, Nancy, thank you. It wasn't easy and at the same time, it was. It flowed out of me, and I do feel free. At the same time, my mother is on my mind a lot, and will be, I'm sure, as I navigate this new way of being. It's hard, because the other way was what I was accustomed to. It was our dynamic. No more. It's not going to be easy, but I'm keeping an open heart, and I've got great support, therapy, 12 Step, and the support of my friends, old and new. I don't feel alone at all. That's new, too. Big hugs back to you. xo
I'm so proud of you, Nan. Count me as one in your corner, too. xo
Thank you. I love the idea of you in my corner. xo
The FOG, yes
"It’s killing my joy. It’s holding me back. It fills me with dread." 😢
It took me forever to write an essay for a contest because I wrote about my mother & father while stuck in charge of my mother's care. Because I don't let others suffer. Sometimes it goes well; other times it's killing pieces of my soul.
Hang in there. We are the trauma breakers.
Yes, we are. I love that, "trauma breakers." I respect your choice to care for her. That's super-human in my book. Thanks for reading, and commenting, Donna. xo
Thank you, Nan! I'm doing my best to show our adult children the good, bad & ugly of relationships and why I stay (with boundaries) or go. It's not pretty.
I'm the only one that has to live with the entirety of all my decisions. However they are affected, as is my husband. I keep breaking that generational trauma patterns for everyone's better futures. Hugs
Hugs back, Donna. I'm glad you're supporting your kids, and helping them discern healthy choices. We all have to live with our choices, but so many of us need to learn that it's entirely appropriate to put ourselves first, to make sure our needs are met, and in that way, we can then be more helpful to others. xo
Nan, this was amazing. I felt so much of my own relationship with my mother in it. She died a few years ago, and she’s been on my mind recently. She was dark and light. Engulfing and narcissistic, thoughtful and kind to people. She died of dementia and I’ve been without her truly for years now. But there is an anger in me and there are things I feel I still cannot say. You give me courage. Maybe I’ll say them someday.
Also, this line: “It’s time for me to give up the wish that she’ll be different if I keep doing the work.” … I think this has driven so many relationships in my life, including that with my emotionally unavailable ex.
Thank you for giving me much to reflect on, for telling your truth. Keep going ❤️
Thank YOU, Katie. All the things you say about your mother, engulfing and narcissistic, thoughtful and kind. My mother glows and claims to love people. She has a wonderful silliness about her. But the engulfing, the devouring, the narcissism is too much for me. I've brought so much of the damage I've experienced into my intimate relationships. Learning how to trust, open myself to another, not try to control situations; these are the things I work on. I'm not saying that it was my mother's fault. I had a father, too, who added to my mix of challenges, but the dynamic I grew up with sure didn't help me. I was so enmeshed, it's taken me years to fully understand the consequences of their deficits. You keep going, too. We deserve to live our lives for us. And if you write about these things in your life one day, it might help free you up more, but you probably already know that. xo
Wow! Nan! This is an incredible word portrait of something so difficult and heart wrenching and complex. And you laid it out there, bare, raw, and honest.
I know it’s not easy. But your courage, your love for own well being is admirable.
Sending you so much love as you continue to navigate one of the most challenging of relationships - that one between a mother and a daughter.
💗💗💗
Hey Lila! Thanks for reading. It's a tough one, that's for sure. It's time for me to take the reins. I'm ready. xo
Courageous essay. Your creativity springs from a mountain of hurt, yet you write with a thoughtful precision, a love of language, and a determination to resolve a long-standing trouble. Well done, on all accounts.
"...I got clear yesterday," is just beautiful. I'm sorry that Grace seems to keep its own schedule, but all these good friends of yours rejoice with you.
Thanks for the Sweet Honey link. Beautiful. Small world: my wife is friends with Ysaye Barnwell, a former Sweet Honey member. And Toshi Reagon (daughter of Bernice) was a student of mine back in 1979-81. Way back!
Thank you, Stewart. Oh, my. It's quite a life, isn't it? I love that your wife is friends with Ysaye. And I definitely know who Toshi is! The best group. And PS...thanks for becoming a paid subscriber. That means the world to me. Hope we'll meet again. xo
Nan, this essay is so extremely astute and brave. it's been 12 years since I've spoken to my mother. My sister recently reported that she's thinking about contacting me. "Lead with an apology for what you did," she told her. My mother replied, "But I'm not sorry." I didn't really need confirmation that I made the right decision, but still--there it was. xo
Yeah. I hear you. I'm in that place right now of feeling insecure about the choice. Not as clear as I was when I wrote this and published it. And I know that's going to come up for me. And I know that I'm not making a mistake, but 64 years is a long time to be insecurely attached to another person, a primary player in the story of my life. It's going to take time. I know. Love to you, Susan. Thank you for sharing your experience. Yes, "But I'm not sorry." Says it all, doesn't it? xo
I hear every bit of that. The hardest thing maybe was admitting she really was as broken as she seemed to be, and I couldn't fix or help her. I tried all the tries, all of them. Nope. But I could choose to stop letting her broken bits continue to hurt me and ultimately had to, in order to take loving care of me and my life. Again, reporting from years down the line, it's been horrifying to see the emotional abuse the sister still involved with her has endured. Be easy on yourself. We are compassionate and empathetic beings. It may take some back and forth time. And it's beyond difficult to do such a potentially very right thing that feels on the level of tribal humanness so very wrong.
You get it. There's a lot of pressure placed on children, on all family members really, that no matter how bad it is, you don't jump ship. FAMILY is everything, right? NOPE. Not when they hurt their own. I've been driven by guilt, by obligation, by deep longing and unfulfilled wish for something I'm never going to get. The very idea of not having to worry about my answer to her question, "when am I going to see you?" any more was the most wonderful feeling. To release myself from that high state of alert whenever we interacted, to not have to feel the high level of my hypervigilance, my way of protecting myself is so filled with relief. Step by step, day by day, it will become a new reality. My chance to individuate from the dysfunction is the choice that I've needed to make for ages. I should have been doing this as a teenage heading off to college, but I was so hooked, so fearful to stand on my own, that I held on even through the pain, the depressions, the confusion, the aimless wondering through my life, always wondering what was wrong with me. It's over. xo
Found/chosen family is the BEST. Much love to you, brave one.
You want to be part of mine? Love back at you, Susan. xo
Mespucha, baby!