Borderline: Part Three of Three
September 21, 2006
Hope’s Story, continued.? Start with Part One and Part Two.
Eventually I stopped visiting her when she was in the hospital. I couldn’t take it any longer. Not knowing what state of mind she would be in when I got there took a toll on me, depressing me for days and affecting my ability to be a good wife and mother. Sometimes she was angry, sometimes she was childish, and sometimes she was sad and withdrawn. She would walk me around and introduce me to her friends as if we were at a party, “This is Susie, she thinks the government has put something in her head so they can spy on her and this is Mary, she can’t stop cutting herself.” Some of them would stroke my hair or touch my clothes like I was a prized possession. I never stayed long despite my mom’s pleas. I couldn’t get to my car fast enough. I would sit in my car and cry and cry and cry then wipe my face, go home and pretend that I was fine even though I was screaming inside.
It was taking a toll on my dad too. He was softening as he got older, no longer a wife beater. I’m sure he feels some responsibility for what was happening to her. The more he felt sorry for her the more he enabled her. It was a known fact that my mom abused pills, that they were hidden all over the house. I tried to get my dad to take ownership of her meds and to dispense them to her so he could monitor that she was taking them correctly. He never did it. It wasn’t worth fighting with her about it so he chooses to live in the wonderful world of denial until the next time she lost touch with reality because she was abusing pills or charged thousands of dollars on his credit card.
The worst thing my mom did during these four years was attempt to drive a wedge between me and my sister. For awhile she was successful. She would convince us that the other was jealous or saying bad things. It really played with our heads. Even though my sister seemed loving and supportive, my mom s words echoed in my mind. My mom had me convinced that my sister’s husband was physically abusing her and when she visited my sister after the birth of her first baby she had us convinced that my sister and her husband were abusing her. I was snowed because my mom was doing a wonderful job of keeping it together around me because she knew losing access to my kids was at stake. I was snowed because the woman that visited my sister was crazy and manipulative. My sister explains that my mom would be having a good time and then as soon as one of us called she changed into the victim, telling us how bad she was being treated. My sister remembers her acting stoned, slurring her words, and having erratic sleep patterns. She threw temper tantrums, told lies, put my sister down every chance she got, had fits of jealousy, and disturbing behavior towards the baby. I found all this out much later because my mom painted a different story to us who were several states away. In fact I ended up in a huge fight with my sister and did not speak to her for seven weeks. Seven weeks that she needed me, a depressed first time mom, struggling with breastfeeding and needing my support. When we made up we realized how our mom was manipulating us and vowed to no longer fall for it. We became closer than ever. Our dad and brother became even more entangled in her web and she became their prisoner.
My mom manipulated them with her poor me act. She hated to be alone and often called them at work threatening to kill herself so they would come home and rescue her. The sad thing is she hardly got out of the house because she didn’t have a car. My brother broke her car and for years promised to get it fixed. My dad got to the point where he never let her go anywhere unless he was with her. Now she hardly leaves the house. She’s selling the accumulation of junk from her impulsive shopping sprees over the years on Ebay, making a connection with people through feedback.
I cut all ties with them last December, two weeks before the birth of my fourth baby. She became increasingly hostile in the weeks leading up to the birth because she was already feeling jealous about sharing the baby with my aunt and my in-laws. The defining moment was the night my then five year old found some sleeping pills stashed in a purse in a closet at my parent’s house. She fed the pill to her four year old brother. Long story short, my son was fine just slept really hard and really long and my dad was pissed. Not at my mom but at me. He blamed it on my kids because if they weren’t always getting into things then it wouldn’t have happened. He scared the piss out of my mom that I was going to report them to the police. He was completely irrational. I was angry that it had happened because I had repeatedly told my parents to be sure pills were kept out of reach but once I knew my son was okay I just wanted to chalk it up to a learning lesson. My mom couldn’t let it go, needing to keep talking about it and needing my reassurance that I wasn’t mad. I finally told her I no longer wanted to talk about it which sent her into a rant and ending the conversation with her threatening to kill herself which sent me into a panic attack. I found myself actually hoping she would kill herself and put us all out of our misery. Once I calmed down I sent my dad an email asking him to put his anger aside and still go to the concert the next day that my oldest was singing in. I didn’t want them punishing her like they did me. No surprise that they didn’t show up and I came home to an email from my dad calling me a cold hearted bitch and asking me to prove to him that I have love in my heart. My brother then followed up with the most hateful words for me. A sick and twisted letter filled with so much hate that it was disturbing. Poor kid, he’s been brainwashed by my father, taught to be even more hateful and bigoted than his teacher. This was the baby I took care of, the little boy that I cried for when my dad mistreated him, the young man I felt sorry for having to be my mom’s rescuer. He was a little boy when I moved out and I guess my dad convinced him I was the “cancer” of the family. I hope my dad is proud, that he can sleep better at night knowing that one of his children thinks he’s father of the year. The email was copied to my dad. I can’t help but to wonder if they celebrated over a beer. I hope they feel like big men for putting me in my place. My mom claims she doesn’t know about the hate letters because she knows their fate sealed the deal for her, taking her daughter and grandchildren away from her. She apologized for and defended them all in the same breath. I can’t blame her though, they are her lifeline. Saddens me to think my brother will continue the cycle of abuse and my mom will never get the help she needs, heading down a road to nowhere.
My sister also cut ties a few months later and I will save her story for another time. I’m too exhausted. This has taken me four days to write and has left me feeling icky. This is the first time I have written about my life although my sister and I have discussed collaborating on a book to hopefully help others heal and stop the legacy of abuse.? It may seem like I have written about every aspect of my life with my parents but this is the condensed version. There is so much more, so many things I can t even form into words.
I m not even sure if I love them. I just wanted them to love me unconditionally, to be proud of me, and want the best for me. Unfortunately they are incapable to do this so I must move on. Reading my story makes me realize that I haven t healed as well as I thought. The effects of abuse run deep. Reliving my past has solidified for me that cutting ties with my parents is a good choice. If I could do it over I would have left at eighteen and never looked back. I ve given them so many second chances and had begged them for family counseling. I wish it didn’t have to be this way but I need to put my family first, protect myself so I can focus on being a good mom rather than a good daughter and protect my children from the cycle of abuse.
~ Hope
September 21st, 2006 at 9:38 pm
Reading my sister’s story is incredibly painful and the feelings are still so raw. I wish I could say her story was exaggerated. Sadly, the story is 100% true and is also somewhat my story. Though, we were treated differently in some ways. I would just like to say how proud of her I am. It was so brave of her to write this and share it. I believe much good will come from it. Most importantly, I want to tell people who Hope is today. She is a loving and wonderful person and I couldn’t ask for a better sis. She really has held my hand in so many ways and has always been a rock for me. Thankfully, we both married loving and nurturing men who showed us how to love. We have six children between us and I think it is safe to say we are good moms who love our children unconditionally. We are very resilient and eventhough our story is painful- we are happy and healthy women/moms/wives/friends.
September 21st, 2006 at 11:22 pm
Thank you Hope:)
September 21st, 2006 at 11:51 pm
Wanting affirmation from your parents never really goes away. You just deal with knowing you will never have it. I literally breathed a sigh of relief the day my mother died. It was as if the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders. Finally I could put her aside and move forward. My remaining sister immediately started trying to take over from my mother - so I cut all ties with her for good. She has no idea where I am living (I hope) and therefore cannot direct our violent drug-addicted brother in my direction. I know my sister well enough to know she would sacrifice me before ever allowing herself to be discomfited. So you are both lucky to have each other. To have come out of all this relatively intact. And you have your own families you can create your own traditions, your own special ties. About the only advice I will give is to never, ever, under any circumstances, no matter what they say or do allow your parents or your brother back into your lives. If you do you may end up sacrificing more than just your own well-being and happiness. This I know from bitter experience. Good luck and a good life to you both!
September 22nd, 2006 at 8:48 am
Writing it out is likely your first step towards discovering yourelf underneath all that-how strong to put up with THAT for your life, when you need PARENTS, not more toddlers.
I wish you well, and I’m glad you have your sister.
September 23rd, 2006 at 1:43 am
This has been one of the most emotional, and disturbing things I have ever read. Thank you for sharing this. I truly hope you find peace thru the words. Your children are lucky to have a parent so aware of where they have come from….
September 23rd, 2006 at 6:03 pm
Thank you, Hope. I can’t believe what strong people you and your sister must be to withstand all those decades of abuse. I hope you can keep them out of your lives forever.
September 25th, 2006 at 2:09 pm
I hope that writing this story, hard as it was, helps you on your path to a healthy, happy life. You deserve good things.
September 26th, 2006 at 10:21 am
You are so right to protect yourself and your family. Setting boundaries and keeping them is the best thing you can do.
I think you’re brave for writing it all out, even though I’m sure it was hard to relive it all.
Re-read it every now and then so you can remind yourself why you need distance from them. You don’t owe them anything Hope. Live for yourself and YOUR family now.
September 26th, 2006 at 5:18 pm
Wow. Unbelievable. I’m so proud of you for telling your story. You are one of the stongest woman I know and I’m so thankful to have you in my life.
October 3rd, 2006 at 7:36 pm
I’m so sorry. I’m proud of you for getting through it. I’m also proud of you gor cutting the ties that you needed to.
October 22nd, 2006 at 4:54 pm
I am going through a similar situation, but I am an only child. I find myself in a very dangerous situation and see no way out.