One of the bigger issues I had in coming to terms with my mom was why she did what she did.
What made her different from me? Why did I make the choices I make and she make the choices she make? Growing up in this environment, you're taught that things are innate. You are either smart, or you are dumb. Is she dumb? You are either good or you are evil. Is she evil?
I struggled with these questions. I asked my therapist, "What is the difference? Does she have a biological limitation I don't have?" He responded with, "There is no biological limitation on somebody's ability to love."
I broke down.
Love? What does any of this have to do with love? Why does that word affect me so deeply? Is that what I craved? Just to be loved? Is that why I am so mad at her? Because I never felt loved by her?
Yes.
There was a time in high school when I posed the question "If somebody stabs you in the back and calls it love, is it?" I didn't know it then, but that was my attempt at coming to terms with the lies I was being told. She told me she loved me, but I never felt it.
I'd get yelled at, screamed at, punished, blamed, manipulated, coerced, etc. None of that was loving. I was finally validated. I did not feel loved. I must sit in that.
Next question, "If back stabs are not love, what is?"
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