“When you told me I couldn’t come for Christmas because [her name] was coming, it made me feel like I was being pushed aside. I’ve spent my whole life adapting to changes in our family, and I’ve tried to be understanding. But this felt like I wasn’t wanted. I need you to understand how deeply that hurt me—not just because of the holiday, but because it felt like I lost my place in your life.”
Things were so easy before. We talked or not, and we just lived our lives together from a distance. we met up when it worked and now there is pressure. I wish you could be here to see all of the important events the kids go through...from formals to races and graduation.
What do you need from your mom right now? An apology? A deeper explanation? Reassurance?
What boundaries do you want to set? You’re allowed to protect your emotional space.
What role do you want to play in this new family dynamic? You don’t have to accept everything immediately—or at all.
Would you like help writing a longer letter or message to your mom? Or maybe something to help you talk to your siblings about how isolated you feel?
“When I told you I was sorry for stressing you, I meant it. I’m trying to take responsibility and be open with you. But when you brought up our fight and said someone mentioned it, it made me feel like my pain was being passed around instead of understood. I need to know that when I come to you with honesty, it’s safe—that I won’t be punished for it or have it used against me.”
Mom I can see you telling me I can't come for Christmas. My siblings are there, and your bastard is there too. I see you in the basement yelling at m then me telling you, "fuck you" or maybe "Fuck off" and you hitting me in the face with the wastebasket full of water. You were afraid of Anddrew, I don't imagine you ever smacked him with a bucket. And you are the parent. So you are not supposed to come back with some childish thing. I have made amends with my abortion. I did the right thing. It was right and I saved myself a ton of misery.
This is all wrong. Well...the facts are correct but the narrative is off. When it was the three of us, I remember safety, comfort, and love. We were a little family of three that had things figured out. Going to see Dad was traumatic in a way. We did not know him, yet we were sent away. Peeing the bed was a traumatic response. I seem to recall peeing the bed after events that were (I hate to use traumatic) uncomfortable, or confusing. During this time, there was no thought about the what I felt. I do know that I always had a sense of shame about my emotions. Maybe it was because Bebe and Bare told me that was not nice to my mother. To be a good girl. Your mom is working hard etc. It was a parent centered world.
At the same time that I am trying to work through the trauma in my life relating to the past few years, I had to deal with hearing about divorce and other issues my students are dealing with. It kept my past percolating.
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