I'm sorry about what you're going through, Mrs. Spooney.
I grieved my mom a long time ago. I cried when I realized what a lost cause she really was and no matter what I did, I would never gain her love or acceptance. I was just a thing - a tool to be used or made to work. I was nothing more than an appliance to unBPD mom. She pushes a button and I perform a certain function; she pushes another button and I perform another function. I wasn't *real* to her and she didn't care a thing about me - only what I could do for her.
I remember shaking and feeling very lost and alone - like the bottom dropped out of my world. I didn't have a mom. I've *never* had a mom.
I went LC about six months later - six months after that, she died and I felt nothing but *relief.* I didn't see her for the last six months of her life, even though she laid a few guilt trips from hell on me and had quite a few, "Made ya look!" hospitalizations. I stayed away. I stayed away in her final days, thinking it was yet another ploy to get me to come see her. I thought "hospice" was yet another ruse on her part - and was very surprised to find out she was actually in a Hospice facility.
She died 24 hours after entering Hospice. After hearing the words, I did a Snoopy dance. I felt incredibly happy - she couldn't criticize me, order me around, moan at me, demand I fix her or call up and make my life a misery. She was GONE!
This person who called herself a "mother" but was the most toxic and negative person you've ever met and was really nothing more than an emotional vampire, was GONE!
Since late January, I've had to deal with her hoard and it's brought up a lot of emotions. Things I thought I threw away? They were all stuffed in plastic boxes after being rescued from the trash. I've seen pictures of a bright-eyed baby that turn into an increasingly unhappy little girl with sad, dead eyes, hiding behind a big, fake smile. I've seen pictures of mom with "that" look in her eyes - the one you know where she's ready to go psycho over *nothing.* I remember it all. I've been forced to relive it and somehow come to grips with the fact that yes, this was my childhood and it totally sucked. This woman shouldn't have been allowed to look after a potted plant, let alone a child.
Getting rid of mom's hoard has been cathartic. It really is like banishing a malevolent, toxic spirit from the house. Go! You are not welcome! Your crap can no longer choke us! My dad deserves better and I deserve better!
You did not misread your mom. You're not being hard on her - you're seeing her *clearly* - and as time goes on and she can't badger, hector, criticize, scream, cry fake crocodile tears over not getting her way, have a tantrum at you or behave in any other unacceptable manner that makes you want to hide in a closet, feeling like you're a trapped 8-year-old all over again - it gets better.
She can't hurt you anymore. The memory of her lingers like a bad smell, but *she can't hurt you anymore.*
If others in your FOO don't understand that - that's their individual experience and it's best just to nod with something of a sympathetic look while looking for the nearest escape route - or finding a way to change the subject.
My mom and dad hated each other, fought like cats and dogs, screamed at each other on a regular basis - but now my dad thinks my mom is pretty much a candidate for sainthood, since she was so religious.
He has *not* once said, "Your mom loved you so much."
He has *not* once said, "Your mom loved me so much."
He has *not* once said, "I loved her so much."
He has only mentioned she's a saint, she's religious, she was so pretty, she was a good looking gal (he's 85 - I cut him slack
), she was a nice looking woman, she loved her stuff, she really loved her stuff, she wanted that Trans AM, she wanted her miniatures...
Seeing a pattern?
Where the hell are any of us in all this mom-ism?
We are non-existent.
I never had a mom. I had a person who wanted a commodity. If she could have stuck me on a shelf with the rest of her dolls and wound me up when she needed something, she would have gladly signed me up for the procedure and told me how it would have benefited *her.*
I hope you find peace, Mrs. Spooney. It really *does* get better when we're Out of the FOG and realizing just what we were dealing with.