Step One:

You have to accept they cannot change.

That's a biggie.

All yesterday my plan was to get up this morning and go to her house to confront her.  Or just smooth things over, but also set boundaries at the same time.

And then I got a really bad stomachache when I woke up.  I kept thinking "I just know this will end badly.  She will ignore me, scream at me and lock me out of her house".  My stomach was churning and burning and I could not sleep worth a shit last night. 

I was playing it over and over in my head.  Knowing how it would turn out.  I know her.  I have for practically my whole life.

I know her reactions.  I know her games.  I know her abuse.

So I sat there in bed.  Mulling over and over again, what to do.  Its a holiday today.  The 4th of July.  We had plans, things to do.  I knew if she pissed me off or hurt me, the whole day would be shot.

And what was I going to accomplish by going to see her?  What did I expect?

Would she cry?  Would she hug me and apologize for the years upon years of meanness.  The insults.  The pain.  The times I cried because my own mother would have fed me to the wolves had it saved her own ass.

The loss.

The knowing.  Knowing she did not love me.  Knowing she could not love me.

Would she be sorry for that?

Could she?

I knew the answers to these questions and anymore I could possibly have.

And that physical realization of knowing she could never be sorry.  She could never be the mother I need.  Or want.  She could never take back the pain of what she's inflicted on me.  That knowing.....it changed me.

My stomach stopped hurting.  Although it has left an emptiness that cannot be filled for the time being.  But the worry faded away.  It melted into the Earth and dripped into the nameless place where dreams die, never to be reborn.

Many of my dreams live there, in that place.

But you know what?  The best dreams?  The ones that are worth fighting for?  They live on.  They thrive in the sparkling, shining sky, in the sunlight where they will never be hidden, crushed, or shattered.  They can't be broken.  They can't be stolen from me, no matter how many damned assholes come along and try to fucking break me.

I am better than that.  I am worth more.

Not because I am entitled.  Which is another part of step one.  You can't feel entitled to that love from your mother that is impossible.  Its gone.  You are past the age where you are entitled to that.  And I know this.  I am a damn adult, and no matter how much she wants to treat me like a child, I am not one.  I am responsible for my own shit now.

But because I say so.  I am worth more than all this shit because I fucking say so.

I am in charge of my own life.  I am the one who says what's what, not her.  And I say I am worth more than what life can throw at me.

I have two amazing children and the best husband on Earth to take care of.  Now, he's not a narcissist like my last husband, so I don't just take care of him, he takes care of me, too.  We are mutually in love....we support each other.  We love each other for who we are, not what we can do for each other.  Its my first relationship with another human being (besides my kids) that is healthy and real.  

And I am learning to be a better parent, to not implant my learned narcissistic behavior onto my amazing kids.  They are pretty fucking awesome people, if I do say so myself.  Not because of me, but because of them.  I love them whether they do shit for me or not.  That's how I know I am not like her.

My love is unconditional.


And I think I am ready to accept my mother cannot change.  I cannot expect her to be who I want her to be.  I cannot hope, pray, or wish she could be my mommy.

So today, I gathered my courage, walked past her house while I was walking the dog and my son was riding his bike, and she was sitting outside with her friend (who is also my friend) and I yelled from the corner "Hey guys!!.  They both waved.  And my mother quickly turned her face back to her friend.

Phew!

Now that's over with.  She didn't wave me over.  She didn't come running.  She didn't yell for me.  Or at me.

That was it.  I let it hurt me for a few seconds.

And I then walked away. 

And you know what?  I am now, at this moment, hours later, okay with that.  I don't need to call her.  I don't need to see her.  I have no freaking idea where this will go, and if we'll argue again or not.....but for now, I don't have that need anymore.  I don't have that need to need her.

My mother cannot love me the way I needed her to.  Now I am ready to not need her to anymore.

I am ready.

To move forward.  To move on.  To heal.

To work on Step 2.

Step 2 scares me, but I am ready.  To open my wounds, and grieve and move on.



When I started my memoir so many times before, it was always about my father.  "Letters to Daddy" it was called in one of its incarnations.

Well, here's a letter to Mom instead:

Dear Mom,

I am sorry you can't love yourself enough to love me.  I don't know who hurt you so badly you had to ruin so much of my life, but it must have been pretty damn bad in order to do and say the things you did.  But I want you to know.......I love you.  But I can't love you enough to make you love yourself, but I can love you from afar.  I can love you for what you are, and who you are, instead of what and who I wanted you to be.  That's why our relationship was so fucked up.......I loved you for what I wanted you to be.  Not for who you are.  But I am ready now.  You have a little girl inside of you who was hurt and forgotten somehow....so you had to make yourself the one that mattered.  But the problem was, you made it so you were the only one that mattered.   And while it hurts me to let you go, I just have to.  All my dreams and hopes for you: I have to let them go.  I can't hold on to my image of a "perfect mother" for you anymore.  And what are we left with instead?  I have to face the cold, hard facts that you are just not who I wanted you to be.  I have to accept that.  I will take these broken wings and learn to fly.....so sayeth the Beatles.  I love you, Mommy.  But I need to be free.

Love,
The Woman Who Can't Be Your Princess

I have been waiting for this moment my whole life. 

It should feel better than it does.  It is freeing....don't get me wrong.  But its a little empty and pretty fucking scary.  I've wanted to walk away from her so many times in my life.  And now its for real.  I guess every new path is like that, right?  Scary in the beginning, but once you get the hang of it, its easy.

But will ever not having a mother be easy?

Will I get the hang of it?

Do I even want to?

::::sigh:::: Yes.  That's the sad part: I do. 

I have to. 

For my own healing, and for my children.  I love them.  I cannot afflict them with her poison anymore.  Even if its not her fault.  Its still poison.  It can either be directly from her or trickle on down to me to inflict on them.

And they deserve better.  So do their own children.

I've been given this life to do something with.

And now....its time.