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Breaking free from generational suffering
Recognizing how it operated between me and my mother was the first step
“I don’t expect you to be there for me,” my mother said.
Her words knocked me off balance. What was happening? What was I feeling? Something bad. Guilt, I would have said, and shame.
I’m a terrible daughter, I thought. Then anger kicked in. I was there for my mother, the best I could be. How dare she make me feel this way?
None of these thoughts were new. I’d harbored them over my entire 60 years of life. They were part of the shame-and-blame dance I did with my mother. It was like any dance. Once you learned the steps, they became automatic.
I love my mother. Because of her, I’m in this world. I’ve inherited her blue eyes, curly hair, resilience, longevity, and many good traits. I’ve also received patterns of relating and coping that cause us both pain. The verbally and physically abusive parents my mother complains about — for good reason — have, through her, also affected me.
But she doesn’t see it when she lashes out.
Why did you embarrass me?
Can’t you just swallow your feelings?
