The Quiet Part is in the Stars

A Text Exchange Between My Mother and Me

*We start in the middle of the conversation where I'm trying to get her to understand that respecting my boundaries isn't an option, it's necessary to us slowly mending and forming a relationship. First text is my response to her screenshot of her conversation with Chatgpt trying to accept and understand the importance of respecting my boundaries. She's trying. So hard. And I'm 27. I'm so tired of shouting to be heard. My voice is raw, but my nerve is finally calm. As it turns out, speaking to her as if she's my child, has helped immensely. She still needs some love and care, regardless of being the abuser. And sometimes she needs me to just be stern without being mean. So, I'm also focusing on teaching her CONCEPTS. She genuinely doesn't understand them, it seems. However, the concept of disrespect and abuse is the same between the lighter incidents to the more extreme displays of anger. Some people, it may be too late, however I've gone from thinking my Mother is a Narcissist...to maybe Borderline Personality Disorder? Which I have. Along with Bipolar. And a hormonal imbalance. So it hurts to see what I may become to my own children if I don't take my meds and keep my head on straight at all times. Which is a cold, harsh, harsh truth. And I never will. I swear on everything. I never will.*

Me: "I don't care for communication that's not genuine, most of the time, it's hard, it requires a lot of energy, especially since I don't feel hella safe around you. I haven't gotten to see enough of the genuine you to feel safe around you. And I'm not saying that to sting, I'm saying that because that's how it seems from my perspective. And you can mean something, and still not communicate it from a genuine place."

Mom: "I understand that, but also don't. I am and have always been a safe space [cue unwanted and immediate flashbacks for me, of her screaming at me and crying, asking God why she had to get the "weird" kid. Then immediately to the fight where she smashed the glass door in my face. Then to the at home rage-fueled, Hollywood style exorcism.] and everything does come from authenticity & is genuine. [Sure.] I'm opposite babe, I'm an overly sappy sentimental fool who craves affection. ): )':"

Me: A room full of spikes can say it's safe all it want to because it views its spikes as protection, but I can't step foot in that room without bleeding...Unless I step carefully. E.g. Being full of panic because I'm listening to music at my house, you show up, I'm panicking to find the remote because now it's a race between you throwing a hissy fit tantrum (who knows how big it will get) about the volume. And I know that's what's going to happen, regardless of the information that I'm currently looking for the remote or not, you're going to explode. That is a fact. Unless I mitigate the risks, curate the environment to fit your needs. Not by you simply asking nicely and calmly "can you turn that down?" And me saying, "Yes, I'm working on it, I'm trying to find the remote." But you just blow up, "TURN THAT SHIT DOWN!" As if your pain and discomfort is the most important thing in every room and it's my personal job to anticipate your needs and mitigate the risks. And your pain and discomfort is so fucking big, I can't keep up. I've never been able to. It's never enough. I can't mitigate enough risks to keep you from having a meltdown big or small. And I'm fried. Absolutely fucking fried. I need you to take care of yourself without expecting me to do it for you."

*I'm working on trying to get her to stay fully present, I think that's the main part of the issue. Where does she go? Inside of her head? I've been chasing her my entire life, trying to find her. I'm done chasing. I'm 27-years old. I have children of my own, I need to be here for them. I found her once. Her place is nice. Quiet, peaceful, stoned out of her fucking mind. The exact opposite of what she's giving us all here, no wonder she prefers to be alone. I'm so tired Mama; I've been running so long trying to catch up with you, and so many people have told me that you're already gone. You told me yourself, once, when I did really need you. But you essentially did the same thing Jeff's dad did to him. Do you remember what his dad said, when he found him on another coast, after 18-years of him being gone, and years of Jeff searching? He told him, "Yes, I'm your dad. You found me, and I still don't want a relationship with you." You told me you were "DNR." And I refuse to fucking believe that, okay? I've sacrificed so much of myself, trying to understand YOU. Just the way you raised me. Here I am doing my job. Mommy's little Knight. I am here. To get you. To Bring you home. For everybody. But you have to show up as YOU. Or you're not welcome. I don't want the trauma, I don't want the insecurities, not when they're constantly blowing up in my face, creating 3rd degree burns that's taken almost 3 decades for me to try to start to heal. I love you, Mama. And I hate you. I've done more than enough now, it's really your turn to take it from here and be the person you need to be for the people you love.*

To which she replied:

"I've done this my whole life for lots of people, so I understand fully. Babe, done. And with lots of love <3"

So, we'll see, won't we? Will you hang on? Genuinely be here for us? Or are you really, truly gone? And I need to let go? It doesn't matter what you say, now. You'll show me. But can I really ever let go? Or will I just keep burning up trying to lasso the sun?