Life After No Contact: Love Bombing (and other reactions) by your Narcissistic Parent

You've reached the point where you're fed up with your toxic parent's narcissistic behaviors and cut them out of your life. It wasn't an easy decision, and you fretted for a long time as to whether writing them off completely was the best option for your future.  You didn't want to have to accept that they would never change.  You didn't want to give up hope that someday things might be better.  Blame it on a society that reveres parental love as pure, unconditional and self-sacrificing, in spite of what you experienced to the opposite, first hand. And so, one day, perhaps after an especially charged and abusive incident, you've finally reached a place of relative peace with yourself that says it's best for your own mental health to grieve the relationship you never had, and leave the awful one you did have in the past where it belongs. You didn't do it to punish them, or to try to get them to wake-up and change (even if a small part of you still futilely hopes for that outcome).  You did it because society's vision of your parent doesn't mesh with what you know to be true: being connected with them hurts you more than it helps you.

For many of us, what follows this declaration (whether voiced to our parents themselves or simply internally realized) is an outright narcissistic unhinging.

Timeline of Narcissistic Parent reactions to No Contact

You're most likely to experience first: an uptake in augmentative correspondence, usually in the form of emails, voice-mails, snail mail and text messages directly to you, fervently denying they've done anything wrong, and that really, the problem is with you.  This first act comes from the narcissist's desire to maintain the status quo. For many years, they've been able to bully you into submission, and so the first tactic in their narcissistic toolbox is to fall back on previously successful patterns.  When it fails, and you don't reestablish contact with them by either submitting to their claims or engaging in an argument, they try something else.

Next, typically, come the Flying Monkeys and smear campaigns. Having unsuccessfully engaged you into fighting with them (and coming up short on the narc supply they could once count on you for), the next tactic in their narcissistic toolbox is involving third parties. You'll likely next begin receiving correspondence from other relatives and mutual friends. Their attempts to get involved might range from the seemingly well-meaning ("I just want to ease the tension in our family"), making you feel guilty and as if you're coming up short on familial obligation, to the downright abusive ("How could you do this to your parent/my spouse/my sibling/our parent/my friend? What's wrong with you?!") exhibiting the side they've already taken without having even discussed it with you. If these attempts to regain contact with you fail, they'll likely move on to the next, and most emotionally confusing, tactic in their narc toolbox: Love Bombing.

Love Bombing 

If you're not familiar with the concept of Love-Bombing, here's a little historical context:

The term "Love Bombing" came about in the 1970's to explain how people were seductively recruited into cults that asked them to give up their entire lives (finances, relationships, residences, etc) for a seemingly higher purpose. In 1996, the concept was popularized by psychology professor Margaret Singer in her book Cults In Our Midst.

"As soon as any interest is shown by the recruits, they may be love bombed by the recruiter or other cult members. This process of feigning friendship and interest in the recruit was originally associated with one of the early youth cults, but soon it was taken up by a number of groups as part of their program for luring people in. Love bombing is a coordinated effort, usually under the direction of leadership, that involves long-term members' flooding recruits and newer members with flattery, verbal seduction, affectionate but usually nonsexual touching, and lots of attention to their every remark. Love bombing - or the offer of instant companionship - is a deceptive ploy accounting for many successful recruitment drives."

I point out that the idea of Love-Bombing first came from cult recruiters to illustrate the deliberate, calculated nature of this intense emotional manipulation. In our context, narcissistic parents who have failed at engaging us through arguments, guilt-tripping, smear campaigns, etc, who are still intent on keeping you under their control, might, as a last resort, make it appear as though they have changed and truly love you. It's important to remember that Love-Bombing isn't actually from a place of love on their part for you, it is instead their last ditch effort to regain the supply from you that they've lost.

You might, for the first time in you life, begin to receive signs of remorse for their behaviors. You might actually receive apologetic letters, emails and voice-mails. Pay very close attention to the language used, as it is unlikely to come from true sincerity, and try your best not to get sucked in. Remember that your position is of someone who has been neglected, abused, and/or consistently put in second-place to their needs for most of, or all of, your life.  Receiving something like that from someone you thought so toxic you had to remove them from your life, is very jarring. It is natural for you to second-guess your decision, and to begin wondering if you'd pulled the No Contact trigger too early.  It is also extremely common for people in your position to engage in severe self-doubt and feel guilty for "labeling" their parent as toxic or narcissistic, despite the years of abuses that lead to your decision for No Contact.  When we have been starved, crumbs can look and taste like lobster.  But watch out.  Because Love-Bombing, through a guise of remorse, is deliberately designed to make you question your view of them so that they may regain their control and access to your life.

Even if they haven't acknowledged the importance of occasions special to you in many many years (i.e. birthdays, weddings, graduations, etc) it's not uncommon to suddenly begin receiving gifts, cards and correspondence for these occasions (or for no reason at all). Perhaps you can't remember the last time your parent told you they loved you, and maybe they never had.  But suddenly, you're receiving texts and cards which declare an undying love for you. Maybe, if you're a parent yourself, and they've shown little interest in your children up to the point of No Contact, suddenly, they're interested in becoming a doting grandparent. They're sending gifts to your children, and attempting to see them. Again, it is NATURAL for you to feel a lot of guilt and turmoil in the wake of these new behaviors. After all, the narcissist has designed these attempts precisely for the reason of making you question yourself and see them in a better light.  It is NOT about you.  It is about their own self-perception. It's very hard for a narcissist (impossible, even) to accept rejection.

Love-Bombing, at it's core, is an act of desperation. It is NOT a sincere out-pouring of love, nor the signs of someone truly changing their behaviors. Though it may, on the surface, appear that way.

But What If It Is Real?

"How do I know what I'm receiving is really Love-Bombing and not real sincere love and change?" you may be asking. And it is a valid question. People are capable of change.  Even abusers. So how do we know when these acts of seeming love are coming from the heart, or from a place of narcissistic desperation? The best advice I can offer is to take it slow and maintain boundaries.

As we've established, Love-Bombing comes from an internal need the narcissistic parent themself has, and nothing to do with you or your feelings.  It typically follows other more clearly abusive tactics to regain control over you as outlined above, or around a time when the narcissist has lost supply elsewhere.  Such as the loss of another relationship, a time of severe stress, financial trouble, etc. It also (herein is the key difference between Love-Bombing and sincere love and remorse) typically doesn't last for long periods of time. Because Love-Bombing is usually the last tactic in the narcissistic arsenal, if it doesn't work, they give up. Although some will have such intense feelings of rejection and failure, that they will return to the behaviors highlighted above out of spite and self-preservation.  Such as employing 3rd parties, guilt trips and abusive correspondence.

True love, remorse and change, comes from the deepest parts of the heart.  It recognizes that they've hurt you, deeply.  To the point that you're fed up with them. It understands that major turmoil in relationship of this magnitude demands time and consistency to regain trust. It respects your boundaries and waits, patiently, for your willingness to allow them back into your life.  It recognizes you, and your hurt feelings, as valid, deserved and justified. It doesn't blame you, or suggest that you've done anything to deserve the abuse. It accepts the consequences of their actions, but hopes that they'll have a chance to show you love again, if you're willing and on your own timeline.

Whether you are religious or not, the words of the Apostle Paul give us a great outline for what true love is supposed to look like:

1 Corinthians 13:4-8New International Version (NIV)

4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

In the end, if you feel that the love you're suddenly receiving qualifies these indicators, then by all means, resume contact if and when you're ready. But if it doesn't, hold true to yourself and know, without guilt or apprehension, that your abuser has only upped their game as a means of being able to abuse you further in the future. And you are wise enough to see right through it for what it is.

When Hell Freezes Over, And The Devil Gives Out Free Sleigh Rides: Apologies From Our Narcissistic Parents

Unprovoked apologetic remorse from a narcissistic parent.  Sounds like a fantasy, right? Like zero calorie cupcakes and blind dates that look like Ryan Gosling. They are figments of our imaginations, but certainly not steeped in anything resembling reality.

I think we all have a better shot at receiving one of
these than an apology from our narcissistic parents.

Or at least that's what I thought, until two weeks ago.

I've been No/Low Contact with my narcissistic mother for the better part of 15 years. And only low contact due to the existence of my minor, teenage, sister, who still resides with the She-Devil. Sadly, a few years ago, her father passed away very young and very unexpectedly.  We only have one other living adult family member to speak of who has struggled with an addiction to crack-cocaine for most of the last 20 years. Which means, if you do the math, I become my younger sister's legal guardian in the event of my NM's early demise.

In fact, the last contact we'd had regarded this very issue, about 6 months ago. My aunt had called me to complain about my mom's craziness, and my mother and I had had falling out number 28,974 a few months prior.  So I was a little more of a listening ear that week than I might have been closer to the drama. My aunt, as usual, rattled off several batshit things my mother had said of late, and one word in particular caught my attention: "Guardianship."

"Wait, what was that about the guardianship?" I asked.
"Oh I don't know, something about changing it to some friend of hers she's only known a few months.  The woman is crazy." My aunt replied.

I was speechless.  As I said, things have been rocky between me and my mom for the entirety of my sister's young life.  Before, actually. But never had she given any indication of playing games with such serious legal issues. Sure she's disinherited me, told me I'm not her daughter, removed me from her life insurance, blahblahblah...but all of it with the understanding that if/when shit hit the fan, I'd step in to give my sister the support she would need if she found herself parent-less under the age of 18.  I broke no contact, called my mom, and she didn't answer.  So I left her a message: "[Aunt] told me you're changing [Sister's] guardianship.  I know we don't get along, but this feels spiteful and way, way over the line.  Please call me back so we can talk about this."

And I never heard back.

Two weeks ago, as I was going about my normal Wednesday routine, my sister called me out of nowhere. I knew immediately before I had even connected the call, something was wrong.  She's a teen in the millennial age.  Her calling, and not texting, on a Wednesday morning, means one of two things: the zombie apocalypse is underway, and/or something happened to my mom.  Sure enough, my mom was in the hospital.  In ICU, on a ventilator.

Holy. Shit.

I hung up with my sister, and crisis mode kicked in.  I pushed aside any emotions I'd had relating to my mother and her condition, and forced all thoughts to be about getting to my sister as quickly as possible.  As fate would have it, my employer couldn't let me drop everything on that day.  I am one of two people in my work area, and the two of us split up a large work load.  When one of us has a day off, the other covers.  That week, my coworker had had eye surgery and wasn't cleared to drive until that Thursday morning. I was stuck.  My choices were either to give up my job (believe me I considered it) or to finish out the day and drive red-eye to my sister's state the second my work was done.  And so I kept up with numerous phone calls, texts and emails with my sister, the neighbor she was staying with, and the ICU nurse's station while I painstakingly tried to get my work done ASAP.  I reasoned that it wouldn't be smart to give up my employment should I need to care for my sister financially.

Never have I felt so torn in two pieces in my life.

By the time I arrived, preparing for the worst, my mother's condition had improved and she was able to breathe without the help of machines. By that evening, they were discharging her. On my arrival, my mother jumped out of bed, ripping her IV out of her arm, and ran to me, embracing me in one of the (I think) 3 hugs I've had from her in my life? "My baby, my baby!" she said.  And I wondered if that IV had had some kind of Narcissistic Parenting cure-all potion in it.  Suddenly, I was stuck in a whole new way.  I had arranged to be off work indefinitely.  "How long can you stay?" She asked, reminding me of a child, hope and love gleaming in her eyes. "Uh, through the weekend I guess." I stammered, and then came hug #4.  "I love you." She said.  And I was grateful to be in a hospital, because I was pretty sure that state of shock I was in would require the use of a defibrillator. "I...love you too, mom." I said, and she smiled.

CLEAR!

When they released her and we got back to their house, she waited for my sister to go to bed and then said she wanted to have "real talk" with me.  I braced myself for what this has always meant in the past...a diatribe of her long list of grievances against me, my father, my aunt, Lady Gaga, Elton John, and the entire Mormon Tabernacle Choir.  I have long been trained to respond to these talks with a polite "Yes ma'am, I'm sorry, woe is you, you're pretty, I'm ugly, you're smart, I'm stupid.... etc etc" lest I want to start World War Seventeen.

"I want to say something I've never said to you." She began.
"Yes Ma'am..." I said, reading from the well rehearsed mental script in my head.
"No, stop it." She said.  "You don't owe me any respect."
I couldn't help it.  My eyes bugged out.
"I owe you a thousand apologies." She said.
My eyes felt like they would fall out of my head.
"I never should have hit you. I was a bad mom to you. I treated you differently than your sister because I resented you for favoring your father.  That's a shitty thing for a mom to do and I'm ashamed of myself."

"Ok...." I said, regaining composure and looking for the catch.
"I have always loved you.  But I don't know how to show it.  I felt rejected by you, and so I rejected you to protect myself.  And when I did show it, I only seemed to know how to do it with money.  But then I would hold it over your head like you owed me and that wasn't fair."
"No, it wasn't." I said, with a cringe and waiting for the emotional bitchslap I knew would come.
"No. it wasn't."
Holy shit.  Did she just validate me? And immediately I thought of tearing down this blog.  I am a fraud.  My mother's not a narcissist.  I don't have a toxic parent.  Who am I to try to help others when these situations no longer apply to me?

And then began the diatribe against my dad.  Back into submission mode I went.

"Yes ma'am." I said.  Rolling my eyes internally at my silly self.
"What just happened?" She asked.  I stared at her.
"Nothing. I'm just listening." I said.
"I fucked it up already, didn't I?" She said. I was astounded at her perception.  Again, I am a fraud.
"I've said this to you before, but you don't ever seem to get it." I said, playing with fire. "But my dad is very important to me. I am half him.  So when you put him down, you're putting half of me down."
"You're right. I'm sorry. I won't do that anymore." She said.  I actually felt my heart stop.  I wished we were back in the hospital under doctor supervision.
"I really want us to be closer.  I hate that we only come together in times of crisis.  I hate that I don't know what's going on with your life.  I hate that I've pushed you away and I am going to do everything in my power to repair things and earn your trust."
It was then that I remembered the guardianship, and asked her about it.
"Oh boy, this is your druggie Aunt causing drama.  I spoke with a lawyer a few months ago who said I should have a backup guardian in case something happened to you as well.  I mentioned it to her on the phone and she must have run her mouth to you trying to cause problems."  She then got up, fished around in her office, and produced a legal document.  "Here," she said, "see for yourself."

Her Last Will & Testament still named me as my sister's legal guardian. And hand written in the spaces below legalese was a note to make another person guardian in the case of my death. She only needed to get it redone by a lawyer and notarized.  I sighed in heavy relief.  She wasn't playing with legal fire out of spite, she was making smart parenting decisions for my sister's future.

When I left town 3 days, and more of these types of talks, later, I was skipping. It felt like a 30 year weight had been lifted from my shoulders.  I felt something I couldn't even describe because I'd forgotten what it felt like.  Hope.  Maybe, just maybe, I could have a real mom.  As I drove home for 5 hours I didn't even turn on the radio.  I thought about what kind of flowers I would send her this year for mother's day.  I thought about how much fun it would be to take a family vacation with her and my sister for the first time. I imagined being able to talk to her and have her actually listen when I was facing turmoil in my life and to have a maternal figure who would talk me through it and assure me that everything would be alright in the end.  I let myself have those dreams of a mom for the first time in probably half a decade.

Is this a dream?

On my arrival home, I opened my email to find 13 messages from my mom. All reiterating and reassuring everything she'd said while I was with her. I felt like I was walking on clouds.

The next day, I received 4 more emails.  12 block length text messages, and 4 phone calls.

On Tuesday, 8 emails, 23 texts, 3 phone calls.

Wednesday: 7 emails, 18 texts, 2 calls.

Thursday: 20 texts, 4 emails, 6 calls.

And I noticed something.  By Tuesday the emails began talking about my dad again.  The texts were running my aunt into the ground.  One text on Wednesday talked of a temporary financial bind she's in and 30 minutes later, another text asking if she could please but me a pair of $200 sunglasses to make up for not acknowledging any of my birthdays in the last 15 years. And mixed into every email starting on Wednesday, was her own "fears and apprehensions" about our relationship.  She wanted to know if I thought she was a good mom who tried her best.  She wanted me to acknowledge how great of a mom she is to my sister.  She repeatedly asked if I was faking my desire to have a better relationship with her only because I really just wanted more access to my sister, despite my telling her no about that several times.

On Friday, she emailed me at 2 am while I was sleeping.  At 6 am, she texted me 3 times in a row asking if I was mad at her because I hadn't replied. I texted back that I was sleeping, had a very busy work day ahead and that I would read and respond over the weekend. She texted again, saying she hoped I wouldn't be mad. I said I wasn't and was going back to sleep.  Still the texts came.  So I got up, made coffee and sat down to read her email.

It was as if none of the previous week had happened.  It was roughly 5000 words.  2000 putting down my dad and asking for reassurance that he was a terrible husband to her and for me to never talk about him to her because it hurt her.  (For the record, I have no idea how good or bad of a husband my father was since they split when I was in 1st grade.  But I do know that what led him to file for divorce was her multiple extramarital affairs, one with his best friend. And I know this first hand, as I remember being about 6 years old in this man's apartment watching his fish tank in his living room while he and my mother had loud sex in the back room, and her telling me afterwards not to say anything to my dad. But I digress)  The rest was a diatribe I'm all too familiar with.  How the reason I didn't get the relationship with her that my sister has (the GC) was due to my own fault.  I was a bad teenager who was out of control.  She did the best she could.  Sure she'd made mistakes, but anyone would in her shoes dealing with a troublemaker like me.

I sighed, audibly, and took a minute before responding. I found myself grateful for therapy.  Grateful for this blog, facebook groups and research materials I've read over the last year or so.  And instead of beating myself up for getting sucked in again as I might have without the assistance of these support systems, instead, I forgave myself.  I smiled.  Knowing with FULL confidence that our trouble isn't me.  That I tried.  That I had faith and hope and love in my heart, albeit small, rational, apprehension.  That I was willing to forgive and even forget if the behavior truly changed.  And then I smiled because I realized I didn't need her approval.  I didn't need her love anymore.  Sure it would be great to have a mom I could send flowers to and talk about my life with, but I was whole without it. And I didn't need to play this game with her.  I didn't need to correct the false things she said, or submit to her bullshit on the glimmer of hope for another apologetic talk down the road. Because the truth is the things she had said to me that weekend, the validation, the promises of a better future, all of it, were things I had needed a long time ago from her.  But in their absence, I eventually created peace for myself somewhere along the way. Through therapy, I had put it to rest. I already knew I wasn't unlovable.  My self-esteem didn't hinge on her approval.  I didn't need her to apologize for or acknowledge any of the things she'd done because *I* knew they happened.  *I* knew they were wrong.  And *I* knew they weren't my fault.

I am daughter, hear me roar.

I replied, knowing full well it would result in falling out number 28,975, and completely at peace with that. I told her I felt she was ignoring me again, because of how many times I had had to repeat myself.  I told her I thought her behavior was manic, the constant communication wasn't normal and spoke to a deeper problem.  I told her it sucked that she went back on everything she'd promised about not trash-talking my father, and that she seemed to be doing the same old thing of seeking mothering from me rather than being my mom. I told her I wasn't angry, and that I would still be there in any time of crisis for her and especially my sister.  And then instead of blocking her, as I might have in the past to protect myself from abuse, I gave her an opportunity to correct it.  I didn't want to have any regrets. The reply I got was almost immediate.

In it, she explained that she was in fact removing me from my sister's guardianship because she feels I am an ungrateful loser who has psych problems and needs to be on meds. That my aunt was right but she didn't have the guts to tell me that to my face because she didn't want to hurt me.  (lol) And, well, so much of the same diatribes from the past that it's unnecessary and repetitive to illustrate. Later that night, I opened a picture text from her which was the will she had shown me, ripped into pieces. I just shook my head, blocked her, and laughed out loud.

Little does she realize, these behaviors won't put me in my place as I'm sure she believes.  They won't make me submit and cower and give in to her way or the highway.  Instead, I now see them for what they are: desperate acts from a sick person.  It's not my fault.  I didn't deserve it, and I am still, regardless of what she thinks says and feels, a valid person worthy of love.

Now excuse me while I write a thank you note to my therapist... ;)

An open letter to those "Blessed with great parents"...

Dear Person with an Average to Happy Childhood,

First off, congratulations! You, through the blessing of one or more good parents, are likely fairly well-adjusted.  Chances are, you have a decent sense of self, and know that you've got a comfy spot to park your tush around the family table every holiday season. When you look back on your life as a child, you think of it fondly.  And you rest your head at night knowing that your loving caretaker(s) did the best they could.

Statistically, you are in the grateful majority.  According to the U.S. Department of Health & Human Services: Children's Bureau, only 1% of U.S. children are found to be the victims of child abuse by social services each year. Granted, these numbers only represent cases which are both reported, and substantiated, but in any case, the ratio of abused children to well-treated children is a huge one, leaning far over to your side of the Happy-Childhood spectrum.

So I can see, with great folks like yours and the statistics, why you might not be able to fathom the thought of a person deliberately avoiding their parents as adults. I mean with what you experienced first hand and the numbers on your side, maybe you think people like me who have decided to be estranged from their parent as adults are ungrateful, whiny and read way too many self-indulgent pop psych books. Surely, I need to get over myself, eat a big fat slice of humble pie, and call my mother already.  After all, she's the only one I've got.

Let's rewind a little bit here.  I'm making assumptions that you have no trouble with your parents at all, aren't I? And how fair is that? I don't even know you. Maybe you are able to recognize mistakes they made, but unlike me, you've practiced forgiveness and unconditional love. You know that your parents aren't perfect, and see their flaws.  Maybe they even whipped you, and you, being a reasonable person, know that this wasn't abuse, but healthy discipline. And you don't let it stop you from browsing the Mother's Day section of a Hallmark store, unable to decide which card your mom will love the most. Because in the end, you know that your parent saw your flaws and loved you anyway. They bathed you, diapered you, fed you and kept a roof over your head.  What more could you have asked for? The least you can do as an adult is give them the respect and love they not only deserve, but earned. And I would suppose you believe I should do the same.

Now what if I told you that your unconditional love is a lot more conditional than you might realize?

Hear me out, please. What if, that roof that stayed over your head as a child, also held a lot of secrets? Secrets like physical punishment that went beyond discipline and into the realms of abuse.  Or secrets like sexual abuse.  Or others like constant yelling, cutting remarks and put-downs toward you, a child.  What if you lived your early years in fear? I can assure you, the color of your decision on which card to buy at Hallmark won't be "Which one will make mom the happiest and show her how much I love her?" it will instead be "Which card can I buy that won't make me die a little on the inside with it's frilly lies that don't really apply?"

The reality is, I don't know you.  And you don't know me. But the difference between the two of us is that I don't expect you to adhere to my values, and I don't judge you for your decisions without all the important information. I don't invalidate your choices and experiences because they aren't mirroring my own. You, and larger society, however, do frequently judge, invalidate and offend me.

You don't know that the reason I keep my mother blocked from emailing me is because if I don't, I can expect a roughly 50 line email outlining what a loser she believes I am, about every 2-3 months. You don't know that the reason I don't bother to call my mom on Mother's Day is partly because she's forgotten my last 14 birthdays. And you don't know how painful the phrase "Love your mother, she is the only one you have" is.  As if I needed reminding that I grabbed the proverbial short straw when Destiny was assigning parents. Any kind of mother is not better than no mother at all.  Not in my case anyway. Having a relationship with my mother at this age means me accepting silently her verbal and emotional abuse.  It means my total submission to her controlling and erratic behavior. It means me giving up my own voice, my own life, my own dreams, and living life in service of her. And perhaps that wouldn't be so bad if this was something she's only grown to become as we both got older.  But the truth is, my mom was never a source of comfort and love for me.  In fact, I spent most of my time under her roof and beyond wondering what was wrong with me that my own mother would treat me so badly. And it took me 31 years and a lot of expensive therapy to realize that it wasn't.

When I was 10 years old, I was an A student.  I was on the elementary school cheer squad. I had a lot of friends.  The time I spent away from home was happy, and aside from maybe talking in class a little too much, I was rarely reprimanded for my behavior by other authority figures.  When I would ride my bike home from school, I remember taking my time, trying to drag out my freedom as long as possible.  Because I knew what was waiting for me: a parent whose mood would go from one extreme to another and I never knew if it was a good or bad day until after it was already too late. There were times when I was slapped in the face while the front door still swung open because I'd forgotten to take out the trash in the morning before I'd left for school.  My mom bought groceries, yes, but never cooked me a meal once I was tall enough to see over the stove. The soundtrack of my childhood was, in part, punctuated by sexual noise coming from the wall her bedroom shared with mine, with many numbers of men.

During my teen years, my mom drilled it into my head that I needed to make something of myself and go to college.  When it came time for SAT prep and touring campuses however, I was on my own.  My mom had other priorities. During my senior and junior years of high school, I wasn't even sure if I'd have a place to sleep every night.  By now she didn't slap me around anymore, because I'd outgrown her, instead she'd let me know I was in trouble by changing the locks so I couldn't come inside.  And I know a little something about those statistics I mentioned above....how few instances of neglect and abuse are reported and how even when they are, it doesn't always stop.  Throughout my childhood there were 4 CPS reports (that I know of) filed by my out-of-state father, teachers, friend's parents and neighbors.  Once, when I was 17, I called the cops myself after she'd changed the locks on me for the umpteenth time.  This officer saw my mom give him the bird through our front door window with his own eyes, and hours later at the police station after my mother came in there crying and claiming I had run away and she was oh-so-worried about me? He lectured me on respecting my mom.  His words still circled in my head when I felt the sting of her back-handing me for snitching her out, once we were in the car and away from his view. You have no idea how inaccurate those statistics truly are.

When I finally did graduate college after having left home, I asked her to come to celebrate with me.  She told me she couldn't travel out of state at the time because she had a life threatening colon condition and needed surgery the same week.  When I walked the stage, her condition was in the forefront of my mind and I worried very much about her health and knew in my heart she'd have been there if she could.  Two months later, I found out from a friend of hers that her health was fine.  The surgery she'd had was lap-band, and she wouldn't reschedule it because it was 6 months to the day from when she wanted to be bikini ready for a vacation she'd planned in Mexico. #Priorities

My humble request is simply this: Stop guilting me about my estrangement from her. Take a step back from your living Norman Rockwell and understand that others of us grew up Pollock-style, full of instability and chaos.  And applying your values to my life is not only insensitive, but incredibly harmful in that it plays into the abuse I received.

Us abuse survivors? We're pretty good at beating up on ourselves.  Thanks to our upbringings, we learned it was one of life's greatest past times to run through our minds a constant stream of negativity and self-bashing. As adults, we are guilt tripped by every corner of society.  Religion tells us to Honor Thy Mother and Father, mass media reminds us of holidays meant for revering parents, and a trip down any Facebook newsfeed will contain any number of references to a "Mother's Love" that might as well be written in a font called SHAME. I'm not asking you to stop loving your own parents. (In fact, are they looking to adopt a 32 year old? I'm housebroken!) I'm asking you to stop telling me to love mine.

But maybe you think I'm coming from a place of anger, resentment and vindictiveness. Maybe you think that one day, when she dies perhaps, that I will regret my decision to keep my distance.  And maybe you're right.  It's hard to say for sure.  But I know I won't regret learning to untangle the negative thoughts she cemented in my psyche.  And I know from many experiences of giving it another shot with her time and time again, that I'm always left broken and beaten in the end. It has always been more painful for me to have a relationship with her than it is to not have one.

I'd like to make something crystal clear: I want a mom. More than I could ever express through words. I am so unbelievably jealous of people who have good relationships with their moms. Watching television shows and movies which highlight good parenting hurt like you wouldn't believe.  It is a shot right in the feels and a constant reminder of how I never had, nor will ever have, that from my own mom. And that's the kind of feeling that's been known to make it tough to want to get up out of bed in the morning. But no matter how long I spend away from her, the yearning for a loving, unconditional, maternal figure never. ever. goes away. I have found wonderful substitutes throughout the years but there is always something left to be desired.  Society tells us a mother loves her own children like no one else, so no matter who I find that maternal depth with, they will never be the person who brought me into the world.  The one who was supposed to love me.

Here's the thing though: I can't do a damn thing about that.  I can't make my mother love me.  I can't make her proud of me.  I can't make her approve of me, I can't make her feel regret, remorse, anything.  I. just. can't.

So please, next time you find yourself in a conversation where as the subject of parents are brought up, the other person shifts their weight uncomfortably and mumbles "we're estranged" don't give them "the look."  The look you get when you imagine your own amazing parent and how disgusting you feel even considering being estranged from them.  Instead, practice compassion and hug them.  Make a mental note to remember to hug your own parent/s the next time you see them.

Remember when you post that meme around Mother's Day on Facebook that for some of your friends, however few, it feels like a bullet to see that in their newsfeed.  And whatever you do, please, for the love of all that is holy, do not attempt to help reconcile us.  Chances are, we've tried more than a dozen different techniques of forgiveness by the time we finally chose to go no contact with them. Chances are, we spent years blaming ourselves.  And while our first mental reaction might very well be "shut up, you don't know what you're talking about" within minutes, hours or days, that little conversation will bring up years of doubt, regret and shame.  And it will likely take us days or weeks of living in that "Maybe they've changed, maybe I've changed, maybe this time it could be better." mindset.  And whether we reach out or not, we're forced to suffer the grief of losing a parent we never had, all over again.  I know you've never had to go through that, but please, put on your empathy hat when relating to those of us who have.  It's all I ask.

Sincerely,

-An Adult Child Abuse Survivor