Right now I am feeling so rejected.  Its been 9 days since my mother has talked to me.

Today my son, who is 15, went driving past her house, and she refused to even look at him or wave, while sitting on the porch.  They both swear she saw them, too.

Are we that disposable?

36 years of me being by her side 99% of the time, and just like that?  I say one thing she doesn't like and that's it?

Are you kidding me?

I mean, I knew she was off-kilter and a tad crazy, but even if she thought it was me driving, to not even wave?  That's so NOT like her.

She must still be angry.

And I don't give a fuck.

Yes, I care she won't talk to me, but I don't give a fuck if SHE'S mad.  I mean....what the hell does she have to be mad about?

:::sigh::::  Well, she's a narcissist, so I guess there's that explanation.

I attacked her parenting skills so, I guess she can be mad all she wants.

Wow.....I really didn't realize just how disposable I really was.

It makes me just know how much of a right choice I am making by staying away from her.  But my plan wasn't to do it cold turkey......I just wanted some space, a few days like usual.  And instead of pretending like nothing happened, I would just confront her at every turn.

I don't even know if I'll get that chance now.

Its freeing, in a way.

But it also hurts.

I thought I meant more to her that what I obviously did.  I mean....I am her daughter.

But in her world, the weight of that word does not carry the weight of what she is to me: mother.

But, just as everything else in my life, I am redefining words and roles and meanings all the damn time.  So why not her?  Why not that word?  I already have somewhat with dealing with my birthmother (I am adopted).  But I always thought of my mom as my real mother. 

Now I am wondering......for some people, is there really such a thing? 

Its messed up.  When I am not with her, I miss her.  Not really her...but the idea of her.  Of how I'd like it to be.  How every time I pick up the phone to call her I want it to be, but it never turns out that way.

I feel this magnetic connection between us.  And I feel like I am sitting here, like a two-piece puzzle with the other half missing.  But I will reiterate, its not HER I miss.  Its the being able to call her, to go see her, to tell her stuff--even though she will down it.  I have nobody to do that to.  Everyone else has lives.  She doesn't but she pretends to so she can get her narcissistic supply from someone else for a bit, when she's sick of me.

I feel like I am addicted to her, and I am going off a drug right now.  Am I addicted to her abuse?  No, I think its more I am addicted to wanting her to approve of me.  That's it.  And every moment, that's all I do.  I can't be me.  I can't be anyone, but the little girl trying to make mommy happy and have her approve of me.  And the few moments she does, its like a high.  

My co-dependence runs deep with her.  I don't know who I am without her.  I used to think she was my WORLD.  That I'd be a wreck when she died...and yes, I will be a wreck, but not as much as I once thought.

And that thought saddens me.

I could say "but she tried her best with me" or "she did what she could have"....but the truth is, and it hurts, is that she didn't.  She did her absolute worst.  She did the LEAST she could have, without looking like a bad mother.  Well, on the outside.

It was easy for her, I was an only child.  She only had me, the scapegoat, to deal with.

::::sigh::::  This is all so new to me.  But I am sure of one thing.  If I do go back to her for a relationship?  I am not the same person I was a week ago.  I am stronger.  I am NOT gong to put up with her insanity.  I will NOT let her ask my kids for shit.  I will NOT take money from her.  I will NOT help her with ANYTHING.  Our relationship is changing.  And she will abuse me for it, I know.  But I kinda want her to so I can bring all this shit up.

Even if she won't listen or yells at me, at least I get to say it.  Without fear of retribution.  The only hold she has on me is money.  And I am not taking any from her anymore, so therefore she has NO hold on me at all.

I wonder what that will force her to do?  When you don't comply, she threatens and throws baby fits.  What will she resort to next?  She has slapped me before.  Let's hope it doesn't happen again.

I hate physical violence.  I can't stand the idea of it.

I've had enough, seen enough to fill 50 lifetimes.  I am done with it, watching my parents beat the shit out of each other too many times.  Well, to me it was like that, as a child.  They hit each other, screamed like drunken idiots, and all the while scared the holy shit out of me. 

And I'll be done with her if that happens.  But who knows, I might be done with her anyways.  If she gets abusive to me when I don't comply.  Or I may not even try to work out anything with her.  Esp. not in person.

Email?  Hmmm her computer is broken.  Phone, perhaps?  Confronting her makes me sick to my stomach, because she gets abusive.  Oh well, I need to stop letting it bother me.

I love her.  But if she can't be the mother I need?  I don't know if I need her anymore.

And that breaks my heart.

"In a desperate attempt to reduce her mother’s active oppression and derision, the Scapegoat succumbs to the roles of underachiever, troubled one, loser, black sheep or troublemaker. This presents the mother with exactly what her mental illness is making her feel she must have – an external object upon which to place blame - so that she can continue the reassuring fantasy that there is nothing wrong with her self or her family on the whole."

                       ---www.daughtersofnarcissisticmothers.com 

I knew my mother had "issues" but I didn't know why.  I knew my father had "issues", and I didn't know why.

I knew I was bad.  I knew I was a failure.  I knew I wasn't good enough.  I was awkward.  Dorky.  I was nobody.  I felt like I could have died and nobody at school or at home would have cared.

I was an outsider.  I can't even name the feeling I had for what I was back then.  A loser?  An idiot?

It wasn't just kids at school who made fun of me.  It was my parents.  My entire family.

Not only were my parents and I the "black sheep" of the family, I was even worse.

My family had no qualms about shit talking about my parents in front of me.  It was like I wasn't even there.  I didn't matter.  I was more than invisible.  I didn't exist.

So there I was.  This invisible little girl nobody liked.  Or perhaps they did, but from a very young age I knew I wasn't worth anything, so why would they like me?  And I knew this because this is what was told.  With actual words, actions, and implied words.  Every moment I could be cut down, I would.  Every moment I could be put in my place, I was.  Every moment I could be made to feel stupid, I was.

I wasn't only an awkward dork at school with no self-esteem and would get beat up everyday, I'd get verbally assaulted at home as well.  As well as watching my parents physically assault each other.


My world was one of uncertainty (although it was somewhat certain something bad would happen, at times every day, but always on the weekends).  I learned self-preservation....but I also was stupid and would act out to get attention.  And that caused the wrong type of attention.  But it was a vicious never-ending cycle.  I never learned my lesson.

Although I felt I wasn't the one who needed to learn a lesson.  I knew it wasn't my issue.  It was theirs.  So I acted out of hatred.  Out of anger.  Out of frustration.  Out of desperation. 

What more did I need to do bad to myself to get their attention?  To make them understand what they were doing to me?  Why couldn't they get it?

But they never learned.  My dad never stopped drinking, not until he found out about his cancer 12 1/2 years ago and died a month later.  My mom didn't stop drinking until like 4 years ago when she met the love of her life.

But the narcissism?  It's still there today.  And that's why I am here.

I need a place to heal.  A private place away from my family.  Or any identity.  I had started one on my rape recovery, but now that's faded into the background as her abuse is and has been taking over my life.  I wouldn't have been raped it if wasn't for my parents letting me date an 18 year old boy at the age of 14.  But what can you do?

I need a place to BITCH.  To yell and scream about her.  About how angry she makes me!  And how it hurts more than anything on earth to not feel loved by your own mother.  Well...I felt loved.  But a fucked-up warped kind of love.  An abuser/abusee kind of love.

I do love her.  But I don't know how to really love her.  Or who to really love, since she's so fake.  I have no idea who she actually is.

I found out I have a narcissistic mother on June 22, 2013.

And I need to know if she's going to change. 

(10 YEAR UPDATE: She's not and never will.  And no longer love her.  I care about her, just as I care about all humans.  But my love is reserved for my family.)