I stayed with a toxic mother...

Why am I such a bad daughter?!"My story is so heartbreaking and chronological development, what you write usually, on the contrary — diary-reportage, an attempt to describe the indescribable, to catch the air. Compared to the stories that happen to others – I do stuff. But only life, from school to travel, I dully and silently hated her and wanted as little time as possible to spend with her.And I hated myself for that I hate mom. It is not for nothing! Why am I such a bad daughter?!

This shame made me even neschastliva. And only after a couple of years after I moved out from my mother, lived separately, read "Toxic parents" by 27 I realized: that's right, the normal psychological reaction to the daily press. Forgave myself, it became easier, well personal life at the same time improved, and stress-eating stopped.

Recently I had to go to an involuntary experiment. His conditions: now I have a baby, the husband in a long trip. Logically, we decided to accommodate me at my mom's help. Live, no scandal, all great, but guzzle I was on the third day all with anything.

Because I'm an adult now, have read a lot of clever books on psychology, I decided to include Analytics and understand what's going on. But at the same time remembered how my friend a couple of years ago had tea with me and mom. And when my mother left, she asked: "How can you stand it? She's in that half hour I got nasty with you three times." I was surprised, because no rudeness did not notice. A friend quoted these lines.

Indeed, I remembered these words. It was the direct rudeness, just my testirovanie consciousness flowed past their ears, they had experience of survival. In the current situation could act on the same strategy, to pretend (or truly be) a hose. But my body clearly signaled that, although the consciousness of the word ignores, perfectly unconscious hears them, and my soul, they corrode like rust.

So I went the other way.

Voice Drozdov: and now, friends, we have "diary of a naturalist" and will write down everything that happens, and try to find patterns in this zoo. Use rationalization in order to understand what is going on with my feelings and if I have the right to experience them. These replicas and the situation is not "bad", why do they make me so mad?

Participants: I (33 years), mother (55 years old, science degree, health is good, well-paid and not stressful time-consuming job, a boyfriend), baby (babies).

So what are the methods used by mothers-narcissistic to turn their daughters in invisible men?

MESSAGE No. 1: Your personal things or really mine, or have no value (=garbage)

— Mom, please don't use this blanket for plugging the cracks under the door, which blows. This is my favorite extra blanket, I sleep under it when cold.
— Take another, they're all the same.


Going to the funeral of my grandmother, her mother-in-law.
— Mom, don't take my scarf! I have it only the husband brought back from Paris, it is very expensive and I never wore! I don't want him associated with the funeral!
— Honey? Well, I have to look great in there, because there will be a second wife to your father.
Of course, wearing my scarf and went in it. To wear this thing.

MESSAGE No. 2. You don't have to stand out, to be beautiful, bright.

— Wipe off the lipstick, you look very tacky.

— I clear out a closet if you promise not to use it when I lipstick.


— What are your eyes weird?
— I'm wearing makeup just.
— Erase! You want to be beautiful... clean.


Comments about how I raise a child:
— Why are you telling your child "you are beautiful"?! You don't tell the children that they are beautiful! It spoils them, they grow arrogant and self-important!


From the past: up to 25 years I didn't wear makeup, thick glasses, mousy hair color, unibrow, crooked teeth. Shoes without heels ("my mom says that any heels is very harmful"), the color of clothing in brown and grey, style "the librarian". My transformation into a normal woman can not forgive and still brands my image constantly (no tattoo, no piercing no, all the civilized).

MESSAGE No. 3. You shouldn't be me no secrets

Hears that I'm on the phone. She is interested in. Walks in to me, listening. The conversation can't understand what I'm saying.
So I said loudly, interrupting:
— How rude, talking on the phone! Always turn named to who's talking!
I don't react. Leaves in two minutes, comes back and repeats the line. I then, in phone:
— And my father, Ivan Ivanovich light, feels like my younger brother, svidanki?
Her warps and she leaves the room, slamming the door.

Constantly interested in what I'm doing, what where you write who you're talking to, where they go, when you walk, why not add her on Facebook, enters the room without knocking. A word about the fact that since childhood I dreamed about the lock on the door to her room, perceived as a deadly insult and remembered that I still week.

MESSAGE No. 4. Your subtle spiritual experiences, important plans, calculations and dreams are not for me any value, I don't have time to think about it, I know better.

— Mom, my child's birthday is coming up, let's go to the cafe, note?
Agrees, then immediately calls her boyfriend. A stranger to me and my child person, in a society which me to be uncomfortable, as I many times told her. But she's very proud that he is.
Hey! You and I have been invited to a restaurant to celebrate the birthday child!
All cancel in the end. Better in any way.

Call her to see how I'm going to breastfeed (at her request). She drinks tea with her boyfriend. Comes with a Flirty laugh, "But he says he, too, would love to see!".
Shoot me.

But not my address all of a sudden for a while, came my husband. Brought a baby gift toy, ugly, but the long-sought and expensive. My school alone told her mother that the toy I don't like, don't want to give a child, maybe its something to do with. In the evening she said to my husband:
— I went to congratulate the neighbors and their grandson, give this gift package.
From the package sticks the toy. Husband just shot enough.

MESSAGE No. 5. I get tired a lot bigger than you, you have to help me. For any trifles, at the first whistling

— Go on, give me a kettle, I want a tea, please.
— Mom, I sit next to you and doing a manicure, my hands in soapy water. You're sitting closer to it.

Sitting in the back room, soothe a child that yells. My mother calls me through the house. With a child (9 kg, I have a bad back) on hand, never ceases to cry, go to her ("She hears what is happening, then, calls for some important reason, right?"). Hear:
— Give me the remote from the other side of this long table, please.
— Mom, you're sitting at this table myself, why don't you come over there and take it? I'm with the kid here in worn out!
In fact, she was too lazy to get out of the chair. But she is brilliant:
Is you remote there in the morning put, so you should submit it to me.

Such situations in the day of little things have accumulated about five, about "bring-bring". Not the normal duties that people share in the hostel (to wash the dishes, cook, take out the trash), but really some garbage. Type to close the window above her head, bring her a book from the next room, to transplant the cat from the TV, etc. It would be OK if she had been sick, and I have no babies. But not now!

But it has always been.

I remember how my mother's friend in childhood admired what her "obedient daughter". But damn, it's a full-time job as a maid with holidaymakers millionaire. I remembered that when she had dinner with friends, I'm a teenager, set the table and served meals like a Butler: first, second, teas, desserts, etc., and they are two hours can not get off the couch at all.No wonder all the ages I spent in impotent rage slave.

Memories float up the pieces. Wet cleaning, mending, washing dishes, Ironing shirts for my dad – it was definitely before 6th grade, because he hasn't left yet. Took him, by the way, a coworker at the badly ironed shirts figured out that at home it's all bad.

Punishment: the most difficult to describe to a person who has never been in such a situation, you "punished" for disobedience. Here I did the manicure, so could not turn on the kettle. She waited ten minutes, then with a heavy sigh stood up, took two steps (I had to make 10 steps) and turned it on itself. And then, sitting beside me, said nothing, but pursed lips looked at me for a long time, this black cloud exuded that I had the reflex live with a wet hand to throw the welding and so on.

It's the radiation. I don't know how they do it.

THE PREVIOUS SUBPARAGRAPH. What I'm asking you to do, you have to do RIGHT NOW, or else you're a bad girl

— Here, put this in the kitchen! Take it!
— Mom, I can't take this right now. Can't you see that in one hand I have a pot of boiling water and the other saucepan, and I'm afraid to drop them?

Hauling furniture to the second floor, what she knows. I hear that calling.
I noticed that one of the developed behzadi – not to rush on this very first whistle, and pretend not to hear. Maybe as a silent rebellion, or sabotage.
But this time really could neither respond nor to drop everything and run to the sofa on the stairs froze.
Ten minutes later, soaked in sweat come.
Oh, what the radiation was... what she want from me was she had forgotten.

And these situations when I do not react in this very moment and in response to receiving a black cloud in the day simply do not count. My every action at home or with a child – I do slow or wrong. Phlegmatic-the introvert, probably, it is incredibly annoying.

And not "filed". No words of censure do not they say, and rudeness and lowering -all veiled.

NB: my sister ran away from home at 17, travelled around the world hitch Hiking and on a bike, tattooed from head to toe in piercings, three times married, now lives in the United States. Do not communicate. Goes to therapy.

After a series of "pass the remote" I called a relative to me in the next few days moved to my city apartment. And nonfig such assistance, child, easier. A month with mom, by the way, I gained three kilograms of weight. And tortured constant neuralgia in the left hand."published


P. S. And remember, just changing your mind — together we change the world! ©

Source: tanja-tank.livejournal.com/104690.html


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