Sometimes I find myself looking back over my life and wondering how I managed to make it where I am today. Coming from a childhood of abuse, I knew how to be a victim. Obviously I wasn't aware that's how I was living but it was. Everything I did was colored by the perspective I'd learned in my family of origin.
I think the most important part of my recovery was learning to change that perspective. Learning to see the world through the light of truth instead of disguised by the fog of lies my family lived was liberating.
It started off slowly. Discovering that those feelings I got about the weird guy on the corner were probably normal and that they could be trusted. Finding out that "normal" was NOT what happened at our house. Tying up and gagging toddlers to teach them not to cry isn't OK. Enemas aren't huge amounts of fluid held until you feel like bursting. The list goes on as did my new awareness that what happened in my home on a regular basis was twisted........even evil.
The most important things I learned where about the games. I learned to spot them instead of getting sucked in by them. Probably the most important one of those games was the "blame game." It's always someone else's fault. If I was hurt, I must have done something to deserve it.
But there were other games as well. Playing helpless to such someone in to take care of her, that one my mother was an expert at. She could play the poor widow with six kids like a pro so people wouldn't look beyond the surface to see what really lay underneath. When I finally did confront her, she feel right into it. It was amazing to not get sucked in by her helplessness and stand my ground.
By that time I knew every possible card she might play. It was a good thing because she played them all. She blamed me, my kids, life, God, you name it. She claimed she did her best but I knew she was just quoting words she'd seen. What she really wanted was for me to stop so she didn't have to hurt. The only thing that mattered to her was protecting herself from pain. She had no concern at all for me or what I might be feeling. That realization set me free from worrying or wondering about our relationship anymore.
It was clear she had no idea what it meant to be a mother and she really hadn't ever wanted to be one. Me walking out of her life was no loss for her. As long as it would allow her to be free from facing the truth of what she'd done, it was good. The reality of our relationship was finally out in the open. It was difficult but at least it was finally the truth.