This month marks the five year anniversary of when I finally went NC with my Nmom (who is a diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic with BPD and a drug addiction). While I would love to say that I've forgotten all about her in this time, and that I've become a perfectly happy and well-adjusted adult (and for the most part I am), there are days when that simply isn't the case. There are days where I feel so profoundly sad for that younger version of me, that I feel like I could break in two. Some other days, I am so angry at her for how she treated me when I was a little child (and I've found that this happens when my son is being a typical toddler, and my first reaction to him is one of kindness, and not to make him think I will physically hurt him or kill him). And, as much as I hate myself for this, there are some days that I long for a phone call from the other side of the planet that tells me that she's finally gone, so that I can be certain that she will never hurt another person again. Of course, the bad days also make me feel worse, because I feel as if every day should be happy and peaceful, and my thoughts are tainted by my memories of her. So, in an effort to purge myself of this negativity that I'm carrying around, and to honor five years of freedom and peace from her, I'm going to share with you guys some of my heaviest memories of my time before NC.
One of my earliest memories is of her yelling at me that she wished she would have aborted me, and that she hated me for ruining her life. I was maybe 3 at the time. I wouldn't find out until years later what she meant.
She would take me over to her friend's house, and leave me in the living room with a dog that terrified me (a doberman), sometimes for hours at a time. I eventually pieced it together that she was getting high on something in the back with her friend, and would drive us home afterwards. Again, this was before I was 4.
My dad worked a lot (often 12-18 hour shifts just to provide for us), and while he was at work, she would have friends over to get high. I would hide in my closet, under blankets and clothes, because these people frightened me, and would threaten to hurt me if they saw me (she would laugh and encourage them).
One day, she became really mad at me (I think I spilled a drink or something like that), and she grabbed me by my throat and held me against the wall. When I looked at her, I truly thought that she was going to kill me. And this happened several other times before I was 8. I would wear turtlenecks and other high-neck clothing to hide the marks after those incidents. I haven't explained this to anyone, but this is why I can't wear clothing or jewelry that is tight on my neck, because it triggers the panic that I felt as a child.
When I was 5, I accidentally broke a florescent lightbulb (the long tube kind) when I leaned against the refrigerator and it rolled off. She became incredibly mad at me, yelling and calling me names, and demanded that I get out of her sight. I didn't want to move because of the broken glass (I wasn't wearing shoes), so she stomped across the room to grab my arm and shove me out of the room. I tripped on the doorway to the dining room (there was a floor transition from the tile to carpet that caught my toe), and I tripped and fell, hitting my head on our giant vacuum cleaner (one of those 1980's Rainbow beasts), and busted my forehead open. She immediately freaked out, and called an ambulance, and the EMT's told her to take me to the ER. Not wanting to get in trouble with my dad (or spend the extra money), she decided to take me to my regular doctor, who yelled at her for not listening to the EMT's. I ended up with 16 stitches (after 6 hours with an open wound), and I still have a scar, over 25 years later.
I rarely had friends as a child. She would find ways to lie to me or manipulate me into breaking off the friendship. Here's an example: I was maybe 10, and a friend of mine spent the night. I was in Girl Scouts at the time, and had sold cookies, and the money was due the following Monday. I went to get the money, and it was missing from where I left it, and I found the checks crumpled up under my dresser. My mom blamed it on my friend (who denied it), and I quit speaking to her. Years later, my mom admitted to doing it, then laughed in my face at how she drove my friends away.
She would often threaten to kill herself, just to make me upset (because, despite everything she did, I was still a little girl that loved her mom, and I desperately wanted my mom to love me).
When I was a teenager, she got angry at me for something, and told me that there were some nights that she would stand over me as I slept, and think of smothering me with a pillow. I began to lock my bedroom door at night after that.
I was diagnosed with severe endometriosis as a teen, and was prescribed narcotic painkillers (heavy stuff, like Demerol and Oxycontin) to help manage the pain. I would hide them when I went to school (at this point her drug addiction was out in the open). I began to find pills missing, so I called my doctor from a pay-phone at school and told her that I didn't want any more narcotics under my name. Years later, I got a copy of my records from that doctor, and I found out that my mother had been calling in every week for refills of my painkillers, and keeping it for herself.
My younger brother (GC) has ADHD, and my mom would send the required amount of Ritalin to school for him to take his afternoon dose (so that the teachers would think he was taking it correctly), then she would keep the rest for herself.
She would open all of my important mail while I was at school (like SAT score results and university acceptance letters), then taunt me with the information for days, until I could see my dad, and he would force her to give the letters to me. Then she would use that knowledge to bash my self-esteem (like saying that I was too stupid to get into a decent university).
When I started university, she hated that I had that freedom, so she would often steal my car keys so that I couldn't drive to school (a 30 minute drive each way). My SO started taking me after the first week of her doing that.
On my wedding day she pitched a huge fit about my hair looking prettier than hers, so she stormed off (with several items that we needed in her car), only to return 10 minutes before everything was to begin. She went off to get high, and tried to make her hair look like mine. Later at the reception she got completely drunk, so my husband and I left early so that we wouldn't have to put up with her.
She threatened to burn down my home and kill my cat, on several occasions.
I made the mistake of telling her that I was struggling with infertility in my mid-20's. She then told me that it was a good thing that I couldn't have kids, and that I didn't deserve them because I was a horrible person.
My younger brother (the GC) was in a really bad car wreck (in the beginning we didn't know if he would survive or not). My dad, knowing that my mom doesn't handle situations like that really well, told the doctors that if any decisions on treatment needed to be made to ask either him or me, and not to bother my mom with any of it (to let her focus on being there for him). When she found this out, she got pissed off, and stormed out of the ER, yelling that she "hoped he (my brother) fucking died!". My brother would go on to be in the hospital for another 3 weeks, and then needed help at home for another 4 months. My mom, who doesn't work, refused to help care for my brother, so my brother moved in with my dad (parents were separated at this time, but not divorced), and I would go there and help with my brother while my dad was at work (he's fully recovered now, but just has a little limp). This was the point where I went LC with her, and I only saw her a couple of times before I moved across the country.
When I became pregnant (after 5 years of trying), I saw my mother once, when my brother got married (around Christmas). All she could talk about was how much fun she was going to have being a grandmother and spoiling my child, and telling my child what a horrible mom I was. This was the final nail in the coffin for me, and I couldn't ever imagine letting her near my child. I contacted her only once after that, and that was to tell her that she was sick and needed help, and that if she could get some therapy and hold down a job (parents were still separated, but she was guilting my dad into paying all of her bills), then I would reconsider letting her be apart of my life. But, if she couldn't make that little bit of effort into being a decent human being, I couldn't let her be in my life. She cussed me out and called me names until I hung up the phone.
I accidentally talked with her once since starting NC. One night, shortly after the birth of my son (and while I was still healing from a C-Section) she kept calling and calling, and in my sleep-deprived state I answered the phone. She started whining that my dad was a horrible person for not bringing her up to the city that I lived in (4.5 hours from her) while I was in labor. I then informed her that I didn't want her there, that my dad was following my wishes, and that if she had found a way up that she would have been removed from the hospital. I then told her that there was no way in hell that she would ever meet my son, and to leave me alone or I would get a restraining order. She hung up and I blocked her number shortly after that.
Since I've gone NC, my father finalized his divorce to my Nmom (and has gone on to marry a wonderful woman), Nmom has been arrested twice, wrecked a car while driving high on sleeping pills, and is currently living in a trailer without electricity (she still refuses to work, and tries to guilt my brother or dad into paying her bills). She has no way to get in contact with me (I live in another country, and she doesn't have any of my contact information), and I can take comfort in the fact that as long as I'm here, she'll never get to me or my family (she can't afford a passport, and I doubt that they'd let her in at the border with her criminal record). I am still terrified of running into her when I go home to visit my other family (she's unpredictable at best, and I don't want her near my child), but I make sure to never go out alone when I'm there. The days where I'm sad or upset by my memories of her are getting fewer, but I'm still struggling to let go of my anger towards her. But the worst bit is that the little voice of negativity and doubt in my head is still her voice, and I don't think that's going away anytime soon.
Submitted April 13, 2015 at 08:05PM by bebemouse http://www.reddit.com/r/raisedbynarcissists/comments/32g1ks/for_the_anniversary_of_5_years_nc_why_i_went_nc/ raisedbynarcissists
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