I was chatting online with a good friend whose mother is having a really hard time dealing with her own abusive mother’s death. My friend has been affected by all this too, as it was her grandmother who was so abusive. My friend’s mother is wandering her way trying to heal, but keeps asking, “She was my mother, so I loved her. What else was I to do?” She’s looking for an answer. It made me think, and I finally said this to her.
There is no answer. I feel like that about my father and my grandmother. Both of them abused me, but I love them anyway. I think the key is just to accept the paradox. The more I can accept that I both love and hate them, and that they were both monsters as well as sometimes very good to me, the better I feel.
There will never be a time that my abusive past has no effect on me at all. It’s too big, too entangled with the way I grew up and my whole life and psyche. I can work to minimize its effects, though, and have a good life anyway. And I’ve worked at making that so. Some days I do better than others. But I keep working my way back to better days in spite of the bad ones.
When I accept that and accept that all sorts of seemingly contradictory things about my abuse are true, the better my life is. I guess I’ve come a long way this past year.
I’m glad I can sometimes help someone else, too. It makes it a little easier to swallow that I’ve had to deal with this crap all my life.
Babbled by Immi.
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I think the upside of being mentally interesting and having an interesting childhood is that it can provide a means to be compassionate, have insight, and bond and share with people. To help. To provide some understanding and validation in this sometimes puzzling and confusing world.
Border Lifes last blog post..Days of Christmas Past
thanks…. i needed to read this.
Vagues last blog post..no fighting? say whaaaaa?
BL – Yep, it’s what I get out of it.
Vague – Glad you find it helpful.