"But we took you to Stately Homes!" - Dysfunctional parents?

[ItsGraceAgain]

It's October 2010, and the Stately Home is still open to visitors.

Forerunning threads:
December 2007
March 2008
August 2008
February 2009
May 2009
January 2010
April 2010
August 2010

Please check later posts in this thread for links & quotes. The main thing is: "they did do it to you" - and you can recover.

Grace - glad you're out of it, even just a bit of distance can help to start getting your head straight.

droves thank you. Do you know hoe textbook their behaviour is? Have you read Toxic Parents? There's a bit where it says that when you confront a toxic parent they'll probably tell you they've been ill and you don't know about it. Guess what my stepmother told me last night?!

Bookcase Are you feeling any better this morning? xx

bint, have you read Toxic Parents? It lists all the responses you are getting from your parents as classic toxic responses. My parents are the same. They truely seem to have no clue as to why I have cut them out of my life. I can't work out whether they actually don't remember the stuff that went on, or whether they don't think it was that bad. I am so much better off without them. I have left them to stew in their self pity. They don't seem to be actively criticising me to other people, but they don't need to, once people know I never see them, they automatically gain sympathy for losing out on seeing their grandchildren. I'm past caring now. Anybody that has sympathy for my parents, and is unable to see through their act, is not somebody I would want in my life.

Bookcase, how are you today? Don't be hard on yourself. You are not useless, perhaps you were just trying to do the scrapbook for your DD at a time when you need to be nurturing and looking after yourself?

Managed to get some sleep last night. Feeling pretty frightened this morning though.
I think I tend to focus on things at the expense of others, to avoid feelings iyswim.

My mum used to say things like "one day I'll be dead" and say she was ill. She tries to rewrite history too!
The thing is, she isn't openly cruel, just inept and caught up in her own story. It's difficult to pin her down to being toxic, although she no doubt was when I was a child and unable to analyse things from a different perspective. I should read the book, I suppose.

I hope you all have a good day x

I had a huge realisation today and need to get it down so apologies for butting in. I have been doing an ou course and I worked hard (for once) for my first assignment. significantly it is a creative writing course. A secret I have harboured since a little girl is that if I could do nothing else, I could write. My grade for the assignment wasn't great, it was average and I got it back last night and fell into a black hole. I wasn't interested in the result. the number, the feedback( when in fact the feedback was in parts very good). I wanted to know how I was graded and it was the fact that the word average came up or the C that affected me so badly.
I woke up this morning in paralysis. The anxiety gripping hold again as soon as my eyes had opened, but suddenly it all became very clear.
Age between 5-6.5 (ds's age) my mum standing in front of me with a school report and a look of disdain, she sighs; 'well smithfield it looks as though you will always be an average student, we just have to accept that'.
I was only six ffs, my fate sealed at 6. Average. Im guessing my personality split in that moment, there became the smithfield that wanted to prove she was wrong and the the smithfield that belived she was right but set out from that moment to keep my disgusting secret hidden. My shame.
I've spent the whole of my life since self sabotaging and hiding in order to avoid anyone finding this shameful secret of mine, that I am not up to par. In contrast that is to my brother who was anything but ordinairy like me and was in fact very special. Lord knows his special-ness was rammed down my throat every day.
No wonder when I finally convinced her that I should go to university I spent every day in bed, drunk or a fug of depression or anxiety. I was too afraid I would get found out. This fraudster shouldnt be here she is fucking average. And so self fullfilling prophesy-yep my degree grade is my other shameful dirty secret. My mother was very understanding over my degree grade, and no wonder-she was happy to be proved right. She told my brother when he only got a 2-2 (despite re-doing a year) dont worry smithfield only got a third.
Several teachers thought I had promise at English at school and I even got piece printed in the school magazine but then we moved schools and my behaviour deteriorated because it was a very good school we moved to and I knew this and felt too stupid and thick to be there and what;s more I felt the teachers knew I was too stupid and thick to be there.I remember once at the new school putting a bit of effort into a short story and the teacher looking at me (similar to the way my mother often looked at me) one eyebrow raised, and in an astonished voice saying 'this is rather good'. I didnt bother again.
I have never written for viewing since and have never had the balls until now (on said course) to let anyone read anything I have written and I realise it is because it was far safer to pretend in my head that I was good at 'something', better than average at just one thing. A harbour of saftey from my shame of not being 'good enough' for my own mother to love.

I find your writing to be brilliant (two fingers to you "mum"). You are intelligent, lucid and incredibly easy to read. You put very complex ideas across with real ease, your writing flows beautifully.

Funny how reality can be so at odds with what "little you" was taught to believe.

"Not good enough" those words haunt me. I have kept all the lyrics I wrote as a child and a teen, and those words crop up over and over and over.

Feel free to write more, Fedupwithmymother, whenever it might help :)

Smithfield, how amazing that you recalled the very moment you made up (half) your mind to be 'average'!

Sorry for not posting much, everybody. I'm still reading but not processing all that much atm - not consciously, anyway; I've been having quite a few relevant dreams so I guess it's still happening.

When you start to liberate yourself from making excuses for your mum, Bookcase, your perspective will start to shift and there'll be less of a compulsion to hate yourself for everything. I'm not saying it's an easy process, but it's no harder than what you're doing now. It wouldn't be too surprising if you froze over the scrapbook page because your own inner child is crying out for a similar level of affection.

As mad as as it sounds, have you tried talking to a photo of yourself as a small child - with all the love & good counsel you feel towards DD? You only have to do it for a few seconds at first, then come back to it as you start to see the child you were for the hopeful, trusting child she was.

*Smithfield, I also think you write very well but I'm guessing it doesn't matter how many times other people say it, it will never be quite enough.

I grew up in a family that never valued education. I was seen as different because I liked to read and went to uni. I was still the 'stupid' one though.

Grace, you're post brought tears to my eyes. Just the idea of talking to little me is upsetting. She looks so happy in the photos I have. I wish she could talk to me.
I hope you're coping with the dreams.

Thinking of you all x

She can talk to you, sweetheart. Try the exercise - when you're feeling safe & comfy - give her a tiny space to say what she's feeling. See how you go from there. xx

bookcase I feel bad for having my rant when you are so in the thick of things. I used to call myself all sorts of names too. I was an idiot for not being able to puree food, or for parking the car badly..all sorts, any excuse to beat myself up I guess. What I was doing was letting my mother off the hook-blaming myself instead of her. I was levelling all my rage at myself to spare her. I think this applies to you too.
As grace says it can change, gradually, bit by bit but you have to put the responsibility for your abuse firmly where it belongs first.

thisis thank you so much for your kind words.

bohemian my mother also developed an illness when I first cut her out of my life. I almost fell for it too. it's about switching the focus back on to them, and they will try any manipulative trick in the book to achieve that end.

grace hope your dreams aren't too troubling and bring some renewed processing ot breakthrough to your door.

*or

Thank you for your good wishes, Bookcase and smithfield :) I've been using Google Street View to revisit my childhood homes. I'm not sure why; maybe I was hoping to recover some memories? I didn't, anyway. One has been knocked down for road widening, but I was able to retrace my walk to the infant school, which is still the same. The others are pretty much unchanged - but there was no sense of familiarity in looking at them, nothing special at all. I redid all my school walks, hoping for a few "Ooh, I remember suxh-and-such there!" moments. I didn't have one. Nothing - except a sweeping sense of sadness. Just sadness, that's all.

There was one, tiny bit, where I went up the road to the adjoining street where my friends lived: a very tiny warm feeling. Not much to show for 18 years in 7 homes, and many miles of virtual walking. Perhaps I'm sad not to have felt any 'moments' over it. My childhood is one long, numb blank, even when I virtually retrace all my little steps. I'm disappointed and feel rather empty.

Has anybody else done this? Just wondered.

What a spooky coincidence grace! I did that today!!!!!

I looked for the house where I was born. The house and the street looked identical to the first house I rented when I escaped them first. That was the thing that struck me the most.

It had never occured to me to do that before.

Wow, thisis, that IS a coincidence! Me, neither!

Strange that your first independent home was like the one you were born in, thisis. Mum says this house is like the one I was born in! I don't remember that, or the next house - don't even know the addresses - so tend to assume it's just an average, cheap, rental house in the Midlands. If there is any more to it, I'd love to think it might be the home of my 'rebirth'. Thanks for that nice thought!

Hello. I've been pointed here by some kind people from a topic I started. Thank you for your words therealsmithfield, all I can say is I understand what you mean. I keep thinking, perhaps I imagined what happened, or have made it seem worse in my mind than the reality, or that I did something wrong and mum had good reason not to love me. I'm sure that like you, my memories are actually real and I didn't deserve it. How are you dealing with it smithfield?
itsgraceagain, yes difficult to hear but in a way comforting. And yes, I have always told myself it wasn't 'that bad'. How do you know!? How do you deal with the hurt from your past?

doodledoo So glad you came accross
It is a long well worn road, and the terrain is rarely flat but I know I am in a better place now if that makes sense. The first step for me was beginning to acknowledge it wasn't my fault. I grew up believing there must have been something intrinsically wrong with me. Then ds came along, and that's when I realised the truth. I've come a long way. Your dh sounds fab by the way, so glad you found a good 'un.

grace and thisis Just tried it now and felt nothing but terror. I cant remember the house numbers either, and I couldn't remember the name of one of the streets, yet as soon as I saw it I knew . What were you looking for grace & thisis are you both trying to recover memories?

I have followed most of these threads on and off but never been sure I had the time to post. By that I mean I avoid opening up about how I feel about my parents, because if I did I would talk and talk and no-one in this house would get fed or clothed as a result!

At times they make me feel angry, worthless, damaged, ignored, criticised, sad, ridiculed. Other times they make me feel like maybe I'm seeing it all as I want to see it, maybe I'm ungrateful, spiteful, selfish, victimizing myself. I think that's the thing, the "that never happened"'s and the "look what we did for you, sent you to private school" comments etc that shake my confidence that they're in the wrong at all, despite counsellors telling me otherwise and that I have every reason to feel sorry for myself the self-esteem issues always make me wonder what I've said to kid this counsellor that my problems are real and I'm worth someone feeling sorry for...

Basically my mother is an alcoholic, and I suspect has NPD. She has a very short fuse, always has to be centre of attention, gives very little in terms of mothering/grandmothering but expects the full granny treatment in return. She has done and said some awful things which I'm sure I'll get to in time.

My dad is her enabler/carer and co-narcissist I believe it's called. Even in the face of her blatantly behaving like a selfish, needy manipulative cow, he will ring me to ask me to apologise for things I haven't really done, tell me how "upset mummy is", hoe "poorly mummy is" and refuse to see sense because he wants an easy life.

Despite me having counselling, and a model with which to go forward and think the situations through myself as they arrive, every now and again a row will kick off (usually before Christmas i.e. now which is why I'm in the mood to post this now!) and stand off's will ensue.

Because my mother will never apologise, never explain, it's usually up to me to smooth it over for the sake of my children, because I can't bear for them to be ignored any longer (she does adore them but will go without seeing them before she would apologise to me for a row or wrongdoing).

On the subject of the children, it's like I'm invisible when I take them over. She particularly favours my son and shushes everyone when he speaks.

I have wonderful in-laws but sadly they are too far away to get very involved with the children. Sometimes I sit with my husband's family who are all so loving to each other and my heart aches. I wish I had a normal, simple upbringing with parents I was sure a.) wanted me b.) respected me and c.) had my best interests at heart.

I am trying to be the best mother I can be, without a particularly good example/framework to work from, but sometimes it's so hard as like most adult children of alcoholics I presume other people must be more normal, more perfect and can get really anxious about the details.

I know in my heart I'm doing a better job than them; I don't drink drive my children to birthday parties or hit them ten times when one simple smack on the hand might do for a start... but the low self esteem that comes from living in a house where you never knew what the mood would be, or if today you would be adored, or disliked, carries through in to my adult life more than I would like.

I'm sorry I've waffled so much, not really sure where it's going but I feel a bit better for it so thanks.

Smithfield, don't feel bad. Your insight has been a great help. I just wish I could be as helpful to you and everyone on here.

Hi doodleloo. Glad you have posted here. I have similar worries about imagining the events in my childhood. Mum used to say I read too many books.

I'm struggling so much. I just don't think I'm capable of fixing myself. How do I keep going?

Sorry Lotster, x-posted.
I'm glad you found time to post and feel better for it.

thanks Bookcase, I'm working my way through the thread and it's interesting to read your comment "I see her for her sake, not mine. I get nothing from the relationship except I don't feel any guilt for pushing her away anymore" because you put in to words what I feel I some ways.

There are times friends will say how lucky my mum is that I still go through the dutiful daughter motions (at times). Some of the things she's done I know she doesn't deserve it but I don't know how to say no.

I hope you can get a handle on your anxiety, because I very much doubt you deserve to feel the way you do about yourself.

Bookcase Try not to feel like you must fix yourself, you need support (which you are trying to get) and patience for the little you who has been badly broken. You will begin to mend in time (probably not what you want to hear though right) .

lotster Glad you finally posted. Yep get it all off your chest. It's great to be able to say it here isnt it, knowing you wont hear 'ah but she's your mum'.

Re christmas, this may not last but I am feeling good about it for the first time. Is this because there are absolutely not plans to spend any of it with family? Am I fibally wriggling free of the guilt stocks? I do hope so.

Arggh *finally wriggling free

Also bookcase and lotster I have to say a major breakthrough came for me when having cut my mum off for a year or so I happened to look her up on face book. There was her profile picture which had been taken somewhere exotic-her uplifted face beaming down the lens.
I realised then and there (through many angry tears) my mother hadn't spontaneously combusted, been rubbed out or annhilated as a result of my rejection. Guilt stocks

Thanks Smithfield.
On the "competitiveness" question, absolutely.

Good example is when I was having an operation to repair damage after my son's birth, I swallowed my pride and asked my mum to be around to help a bit in the few days after (usually never ask because I pride myself on asking nothing of them so they can't use it against me) as I wouldn't be able to walk or lift my son etc who was 9 months. She didn't come to see me until two weeks after. Made up something about being ill (she is always ill, or injured due to druunken falls and makes a career out of it), so that I and others would sympathise with her instead.

I had to put my son in to emergency nursery, which I couldn't see in advance as I couldn't walk. Had to organise it flat on my back with the phonebook. Hated having to do that, especially as he was my PFB. Felt so stupd thinking she could suck it up and just provide some mothering.

She will compete for attention in conversations, or on who is more ill, cannot bear me speaking or joining in any songs when she's talking to my children and will just glare at me if I do.