Do you (adults) have a difficult/disappointing relationship with your mother?

Parent Cafe
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<p>First of all, I am so honored to have received hugs from you, berurah!</p>

<p>I’ve only explored a small part of that website and it is fascinating. I really cannot imagine what it must have been like for you to grow up in a household dominated by such a person. Again, my hat is off to you for rising above it. I wouldn’t say that my mother exhibits most of the characteristics of the purely narcissistic personality disorder, though. Her case is so complicated that I could write a book about it. As an aside, sometimes I question plot devices in films and literature that seem to depict unrealistically bad parents. After reading so many disheartening stories of sorry mothering on this thread, I realize how naive I was. Bad parenting makes for good drama, I guess. </p>

<p>I believe that the worst part of being subjected to a neurotic or psychotic parent is this: it implants the idea in the child’s mind that s/he is defective and even worse, undeserving and unworthy of love. Someone here mentioned that life isn’t fair. There’s no more dramatic nor important example of that than in the case of one’s parents. There’s no substitute for a kind, loving, nurturing mother. I really believe that poverty in material goods is a cake walk compared to the emotional poverty of growing up without love and respect. A good mother can make a child who wears ragged clothing feel like a princess. A loving mother gives her child the real deal in self-esteem. It’s the true gift that keeps on giving, like being given the world on a silver platter. </p>

<p>Someone here mentioned that she (or he?) had a good mother who had passed away, making Mother’s Day very difficult. I think you should celebrate that day and honor her just as if she were sitting next to you at brunch in a crowded restaurant. Re-live those fond memories, raise a toast to her, and pass on some kindness to other people.</p>

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<p>With my mother, the tone or feeling behind what was being said seemed, typically, perfectly consistent with the words that were being said.</p>

<p>In my case, “rising above the situation” meant, after many years of trying to understand and accept, eventually not taking her words to heart, as I would take any of the (extremely rare) critical comments that I might get from my dad. It also meant emotionally distancing myself from her, whenever possible. It also meant taking a vow to never abuse alcohol, which was part, but far from all, of her problem. In the case of others, where the conduct was even more inappropriate and unacceptable, it might well mean more.</p>

<p>The command to honor parents imo does not constitute a free pass for parents to do whatever evil they please to their children.</p>

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<p>Yes, I absolutely agree with what you say. And I just want to say Berurah I am VERY SORRY for what you endured and what others endured. I am very sorry for you all and am so glad you have risen above it all! God bless you!</p>

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<p>Backhandgrip, I suppose that I must plead guilty to lacking your emotional maturity. See, when I was five or six years old and told constantly how fat I was, I just didn’t understand that it was her own lack of self-esteem manifesting itself. And when I was told that I was bad for sitting in my room to read starting when I was about seven, I didn’t realize that it was her and not me. Let’s see, I was constantly criticized for–you name it–as a quiet, bookworm, straight A student teenager. In contrast, my brother engaged in violent (toward me and her) behavior, drove drunk, got arrested, barely graduated from high school…and to this day she has never uttered a critical word about him. I suppose that again spoke to my inability to handle her properly when I was seventeen years old. It’s the child’s problem, so we children should know that the responsibility falls on our shoulders.</p>

<p>As an adult, I have learned to never disagree with her and to not ever comment to her about her lack of interest in anything I do. Even though she calls me frequently to “talk” for an hour (because she has no one else), and interrupts my work, I have learned to never, ever mention that. Otherwise, she’ll slam the phone down if I say–very nicely–that I have something urgent that must get done. Because of course, as my mother, she has every right to gobble up my time. It’s all my fault, of course.</p>

<p>I do thank her for instilling in me the necessity of obsessing about every calorie, though. I owe my size zero petite size today all to her. Just wish I could enjoy it more.</p>

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<p>Well, I am very sorry for what you endured Suzy. I could see that today, you may feel that enough is enough, that you can give her no more.You are spent. I can see that. I can see the turmoil with your post here. That ministering to HER is too much stress. That you are trying to do the ‘right’ thing (and who is to judge what is right anyway) and the stress is too enourmous. Wow. What a handful!</p>

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<p>

Very well said. This “emotional poverty” can completely skew your world view and can be the root cause of many maladaptive behaviors. My mother’s “love” was <em>the</em> most conditional “love” I’ve ever experienced. As soon as anyone disagreed with her, even if the disagreement was slight and inconsequential, she was not “loved” anymore. A narcissist is after only ONE thing…narcissistic supply. Once you cease to provide that, you can be “discarded” with no more thought than one would give to taking out the trash.</p>

<p>

In my case, many times my mother’s intent was cloaked in incompatible words. This type of “mind game” can be extrememly disconcerting and confusing and can make you doubt all of your perceptions.</p>

<p>

Or their children’s children. Amen. </p>

<p>~berurah</p>

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<p>Alumother describes her mother as productive and active. I wish I could describe my mom that way. I have urged her to get involved, to do more (she is in perfect physical health) but to no avail. While it wouldn’t solve her emotional problems I think it would give her something besides me to focus on and help make her a happier person. </p>

<p>About ten years ago at Christmas I found myself getting anxious and upset about all I had to do, and I realized I was making my family miserable. After reflecting on my behavior, I decided that the best gift I could give my husband and kids was to be happy and serene throughout the holiday season, and I try to remember that every year. </p>

<p>The greatest gift we can give our sons and daughters is to maintain our emotional health as they go through college and become adults (and beyond). I am thankful there are resources out there (though not, I realize, always affordable) to help us achieve that goal.</p>

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<p>I am sitting here in quiet tears reading these posts. They are tears of sadness from learning of the emotional abuse heaped upon the obviously warm and wonderful individuals writing here, but also tears of joy from being inspired by the success these individuals have achieved in becoming the loving parents and well-adjusted human beings their parents never were. I have so much admiration and respect for you and for the wisdom you’ve acquired and then been able to impart. As a psychologist, I strive mightily to help my clients realize that their adult lives’ do not need to be defined by their childhood experiences. This is an extraordinarily difficult lesson for many to master. I’d like to share some of the postings here with my clients to give them more examples of ways in which others have risen above and flown beyond their original circumstances.</p>

<p>I describe my relationship with my own mother as “impaired within normal limits”. My mother is a kind and loving woman who was so wounded by her own upbringing that she developed some very strange ideas about the world in general and interpersonal relationships in particular. For instance, she is usually angered to be invited to a family wedding or other celebration. Her thinking goes something like this: The couple <em>must</em> know she wouldn’t want to attend, so they must only be inviting her to get a present out of her. Don’t they know how difficult her financial circumstances are? What selfish people they are! </p>

<p>I am VERY different from my mother in my thinking, and I think she perceives me as an alien. She is extremely insecure and feels intimidated by my life and accomplishments no matter how reassuring I am that I am the same person I always was regardless of the letters after my name or anything else I’ve achieved or experienced. My mother, however, is positively emotionally healthy compared to my (deceased) father and my sister. My sister is the poster child for borderline personality disorder, who (among oh so many other things) told me that I was “sadistic and perverse” and wouldn’t talk to me for two years because I started a phone conversation by saying, “Hi. How are you?” After all, I must have known that she’s miserable and therefore was demonstrating through this question that I delight in hearing about others’ pain!</p>

<p>I try to keep my focus on and appreciate both my mother and sister for what they <em>are</em> able to offer and to understand that they are doing the best they can with what they have. However, I can’t help but sometimes feel sad that there is no way to be closer and, like MaryTN, experience tinges of envy mixed into my happiness for my friends who have great relationships with their parents and siblings. It can feel very lonely to think that your family background is so much different than your friends’, so there is much comfort to be had in this thread.</p>

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<p>I don’t want to minimize the difficulties that so many have or are facing. There are some really rotten parents out there, as anyone can see by reading this thread. </p>

<p>But I wonder how our own children will describe their relationships with us in 30 years? Will they complain about how obsessive we were about every detail in their lives? Or that we offer too much advice about how to raise children? Maybe they’ll complain that we were too involved with our own fitness/health routines or careers to be the mothers they would have liked. Mine will probably complain that I was too involved/obsessive/protective as they were growing up.</p>

<p>I only say this because, as I approach 50, I understand my own parents’ problems much better. They weren’t perfect parents – they were flawed human beings just like everyone else that I know. I think we have such high expectations of what our parents should be. One of my sisters and I have pretty bad arthritis, and we now joke that it’s retribution for not being sympathetic enough to our own mom. She wasn’t supposed to complain or be needy – that didn’t fit our expectations.</p>

<p>I’m not trying to minimize anyone else’s experiences, so please don’t take that thought from this post. I’m just trying to look at this question from the other side.</p>

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<p>One more thought…</p>

<p>I am one of 5 siblings, and I would say that each of us can be pretty “interesting” at times. One sister, in particular, is pretty eccentric. But I tell my kids that everyone is weird in their own way, and that’s what makes life interesting. The most important thing is to be kind, and sometimes that means tolerating their weirdnesses. Of course, I’m not talking about truly pathological behavior.</p>

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<p>Beurah, I find your posts very moving and helpful at a difficult time right now and I thank you for sharing – you never know who you’re reaching online, but you are. My mother and I get along pretty well, although she has become very difficult and bitter in recent years. I can deal with that for two reasons. First, because my mother has had the single most difficult life of anyone I know, outside of Holocaust survivors. Second is that even though her life is lived in overwhelming sadness, she is the greatest grandmother in the world. I can forgive much when people are good to my kids. I have a sister who is 16 years older than I and who was very much like a mother to me. In recent years and especially the last two months, our relationship has come to an end in a shocking and abrupt way that makes no sense to me. Ultimately, I made the decision to remove her from my life, but she took action/spoke words that made future contact impossible. I am, of course, devastated, but like Beurah said (and from which I took comform), it was my sister’s choice.</p>

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<p>“My sister is the poster child for borderline personality disorder, who (among oh so many other things) told me that I was “sadistic and perverse” and wouldn’t talk to me for two years because I started a phone conversation by saying, “Hi. How are you?” After all, I must have known that she’s miserable and therefore was demonstrating through this question that I delight in hearing about others’ pain!”</p>

<p>We must have the same sister. She started the familial equivalent of WWIII because we were happy that ZG had gotten a scholarship (nice but not full) to her perfectly nice, ordinary college but her daughter (who went to a top college) hadn’t lined up a job or graduate school admission yet. So I am vicious, selfish and rubbing things in her face. The things she said to/about me in front of my 14-year old daughter have given her nightmares and sleepless nights (literally) since Easter. Why do so many people have to think that joy is a zero sum game?</p>

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<p>

I think the idea that life is a zero sum game is one of the greatest causes for unhappiness.</p>

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<p>

<em>sigh</em> There was much of this in my family. Because my mother was so dysfunctional, she had to set up a divide and conquer scheme, or she might be outnumbered. She constantly pitted one child against another and as a result, my siblings have NEVER been able to take true joy in the successes/accomplishments of others. Pathological envy was rampant in my birth home, and there is little more toxic than that. My heart truly goes out to you, zoos, for the treatment you’ve been shown by your sister. It’s inexcusable. :frowning: {{{{{many gentle hugs}}}}}–and SINCERE congrats to your VERY deserving daughter. </p>

<p>~berurah</p>

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<p>Just came upon this post and it is oddly comforting to me that I am not the only bright, well - adjusted parent who had to endure an emotionally abusive parent. So many of the behaviors I’ve read on this post are painfully familiar. Reading this thread helps me believe that I should not feel guilty for my mom’s behavior. When she died, I realized that I was not grieving her death but rather the loss of what could have been and the mother - daughter relationship that I will never know.</p>

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<p>I remember hearing once that when siblings don’t get along it is generally because there isn’t enough parental love to go around-- so they become rivals to get what little there is.</p>

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<p>

OMG, yes. Totally. One of the first conscious manifestations of the damage that my mother did was the fact that I was utterly TERRIFIED to have a baby girl. I had orginally wanted around four kids, and I had wanted all of them to be BOYS! :wink: When my oldest D was born (after everyone in the OB’s office claimed that her slow heart rate meant “another boy”) I was stunned and frightened. I just <em>KNEW</em> I couldn’t do the mother/daughter thang. Now, 20 years and three girls (and three boys) later, I realize that my daughters were the most precious and healing gift I could ever have received. I do, though, now fully conceptualize what I’d been missing all of those years, and the poignance (and sheer grief) is sometimes overwhelming.</p>

<p>~berurah</p>

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<p>Berurah - I too had that moment of shock when I had my daughter. I simply thought I was a “mother of boys” but I never thought I felt that way because of my relationship with my mom. Yikes!Happy to say, my d and I have a warm, loving relationship - always have and I hope always will!
But how about those not so toxic but “drive you crazy” mothers- in-law?</p>

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<p>berurah wrote: “I don’t believe that a mother’s “biological giving of life” is sufficient for me to sustain a wholly toxic relationship.”</p>

<p>I agree! What finally made me “separate” was the realization that I was the “model” for how my son would one day deal with others. I did not want my son to “learn” to accept such toxicity in his life. I wanted to teach him that a healthy relationship is one of mutual respect. </p>

<p>Interesting to see how many of these toxic relationships involve “self-absorbed” mothers - I hadn’t thought in terms of narcicism - thanks burarah for sharing - I will do a bit of research. </p>

<p>Another problem that causes damage is extreme favoritism. I can’t tell you how many friends I have whose families were destroyed by such.</p>

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<p>sjmom, my dh & I speculate about what our kids will say about us in the years to come and we sometimes joke about this or that being fodder for conversations from the analyst’s couch. However, we honestly believe that we have used our own experiences (his mostly good, and mine mostly bad) to attempt to be the best parents we can given our faults and failings.
We’ve goofed plenty of times, but at least our children know that they were wanted and they are cherished. </p>

<p>BHG’s initial comments felt like a slap in the face (& I received many of those from my mother when I was a child and a teenager.) The bloody welts from the belt buckles healed many years ago, as did the bruises on my face from being hit with her shoes. My heart never fully healed, but I am working on it still. My mother told me repeatedly that I was not just an accident but a mistake. She regretted that abortion wasn’t legal back in the 50s. She resented that I intruded on her free time, since my brothers were in school and old enough to be pretty self-sufficient, and she seemed determined that I would pay for ruining her social life and golf game. If my father returned home earlier than expected, she would pretend to be comforting me instead of restraining me for a beating. She lied constantly to Dad about both my behavior and her response to it. Yet in front of others, she bragged about my accomplishments and acted the part of the doting parent. I left home for college at 16, married right after graduation and for the next decade limited my contact with my mother as much as possible. </p>

<p>Foolishly, I tried to connect with my mother once dh & I had children. My (much older) brothers pushed me to overlook her behavior, for the sake of our dad if nothing else. Later they let me know that they really didn’t believe most of what I’d related about her treatment of me. Fortunately, a job transfer took us to another state before she could do any emotional damage to our children. I pitied my father, who was an honorable man. He did not understand this woman and did not know how to deal with her. Sadly, in his final years, she was abusive to and negligent of him. It took a lot of work and effort, but I was finally able to get the brother in control to place Dad in an appropriate facility where he received kind and respectful care. </p>

<p>Mother now lives in a seniors’ apartment with some daily help, although she really needs nursing home care. Because she has lied about so many things for so long and has told so many clearly fantastic tales, people have been slow to realize the toll taken by senile dementia. I do not feel any love for this woman. I do feel pity. My contact is restricted to monthly emails and sending cards & flowers, which I do mainly in the hopes that it’s setting some kind of positive example for my own children. </p>

<p>I nearly missed having children at all because I was so fearful that I might be like her in some way, and I could not stand the thought of passing on the abuse. Sometimes I felt sorry for my husband, because I relied on him for the support that many young mothers receive from their own mothers. As a student, he’d worked in both a day care and a nursing home, and that experience was a huge help. My only regrets are that I did not find a way to limit contact with my mother while maintaining a relationship with my dad, and that I allowed her sick behavior to influence my feelings of self-worth for so long.</p>