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<blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 660666" data-attributes="member: 17461"><p>"He sees himself as someone who no longer tolerates being the victim in an abusive relationship."</p><p></p><p>I like that phrase for myself now, nlj. </p><p></p><p>Thank you.</p><p></p><p>:O)</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>When I was still seeing my mom, I did as much as I could for her, too. It wasn't about what she needed or appreciated. It was about what I felt I needed to do; it was about my responsibility to an aging and increasingly vulnerable parent <em>and I cut myself no slack</em>. </p><p></p><p>We talked about this once with a group of friends over dinner. Those who had been well-mothered felt differently about their parent than those whose relationships to their parent had been abusive or conflicted. In the conflicted parent/child relationship, the anxiety of the adult child escalated whenever they interacted with the abusive parent. <em>As they had when they were the abused children of an abusive mother</em>,<em> the adults whose relationships with their moms had been conflicted felt responsible for the mother's happiness, even as adults. The more they gave, the more the mothers expected and the less appreciative they became.</em></p><p></p><p>So, I thought about that, lot.</p><p></p><p>It could be different for you nlj, but interacting with my mom was really hard for me. My anxiety levels skyrocketed around my mother. I was aware of that. I told myself all the usual things: "I am all grown up; I am strong enough; I can do this. I love my mom." And my mom continued to say and do the strangest, most hurtful things. And my mom's toxic behavior's were attributed to "That's just how mom is." </p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>I feel cheated too, nlj. Problems with the kids meant I was vulnerable to my FOO in ways I had not allowed in the past. I became uncertain, I opened up to them more than I had ever done...and they used my brokenness to hurt me. All I can conclude about my family of origin is that these are not people I would have in my life if they were not my family. I probably don't even love them. It feels wrong to have nothing to do with them in a way, but the longer I am away from them, the less often I think about them in the same way, or at all.</p><p></p><p>It is just like one of us posted: We never had those families we wished for. That is probably why we feel cheated even now, even when our weird, abusive parent is aging. <em>They are still as abusive as they can get away with. The more we put up with, the more they dish out until we are seen as slaves or as some other kind of person without a right to joy or independence or pain.</em></p><p></p><p>I think now that my family of origin probably never did care about me. Not for myself. Maybe, I never did care about them, either. It could be true that, when relationships are so toxic, we think we should love one another, so we think we do. </p><p></p><p>What happens in my family of origin looks nothing in the world like love. </p><p></p><p>I don't know the answer, nlj. If my sister had not taken over with my mom the way she has, and if the toxicity had not elevated the way it has, I would still be taking care of her, too.</p><p></p><p>But the longer I am away from any of them, the less I think about them, at all.</p><p></p><p>So, those were the changes that happened for me as I went through declaring independence from my family of origin.</p><p></p><p>I can still feel puzzled and wrong and angry and confused when I think about my family of origin and how things were when we were together. It is a difficult situation, nlj. I am sorry this is happening to you, too.</p><p></p><p>Cedar</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Scent of Cedar *, post: 660666, member: 17461"] "He sees himself as someone who no longer tolerates being the victim in an abusive relationship." I like that phrase for myself now, nlj. Thank you. :O) When I was still seeing my mom, I did as much as I could for her, too. It wasn't about what she needed or appreciated. It was about what I felt I needed to do; it was about my responsibility to an aging and increasingly vulnerable parent [I]and I cut myself no slack[/I]. We talked about this once with a group of friends over dinner. Those who had been well-mothered felt differently about their parent than those whose relationships to their parent had been abusive or conflicted. In the conflicted parent/child relationship, the anxiety of the adult child escalated whenever they interacted with the abusive parent. [I]As they had when they were the abused children of an abusive mother[/I],[I] the adults whose relationships with their moms had been conflicted felt responsible for the mother's happiness, even as adults. The more they gave, the more the mothers expected and the less appreciative they became.[/I] So, I thought about that, lot. It could be different for you nlj, but interacting with my mom was really hard for me. My anxiety levels skyrocketed around my mother. I was aware of that. I told myself all the usual things: "I am all grown up; I am strong enough; I can do this. I love my mom." And my mom continued to say and do the strangest, most hurtful things. And my mom's toxic behavior's were attributed to "That's just how mom is." *** I feel cheated too, nlj. Problems with the kids meant I was vulnerable to my FOO in ways I had not allowed in the past. I became uncertain, I opened up to them more than I had ever done...and they used my brokenness to hurt me. All I can conclude about my family of origin is that these are not people I would have in my life if they were not my family. I probably don't even love them. It feels wrong to have nothing to do with them in a way, but the longer I am away from them, the less often I think about them in the same way, or at all. It is just like one of us posted: We never had those families we wished for. That is probably why we feel cheated even now, even when our weird, abusive parent is aging. [I]They are still as abusive as they can get away with. The more we put up with, the more they dish out until we are seen as slaves or as some other kind of person without a right to joy or independence or pain.[/I] I think now that my family of origin probably never did care about me. Not for myself. Maybe, I never did care about them, either. It could be true that, when relationships are so toxic, we think we should love one another, so we think we do. What happens in my family of origin looks nothing in the world like love. I don't know the answer, nlj. If my sister had not taken over with my mom the way she has, and if the toxicity had not elevated the way it has, I would still be taking care of her, too. But the longer I am away from any of them, the less I think about them, at all. So, those were the changes that happened for me as I went through declaring independence from my family of origin. I can still feel puzzled and wrong and angry and confused when I think about my family of origin and how things were when we were together. It is a difficult situation, nlj. I am sorry this is happening to you, too. Cedar [/QUOTE]
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