So saturday I had a pretty chilled out day, taking some pictures with the news lens that I have bought, having a good clearout (going to have to down-size before moving into the new house) and a good clearout always makes me feel better anyway. Saturday evening, Hogan was lame. I presumed maybe he had stood on something out on our walk, or maybe tweaked a muscle, and wasn’t too worried. I woke up in the morning, early, as we were booked to go to a championship show in Birmingham, to see if he was still lame, which he was. I did consider going without him, because I love the atmosphere and seeing my friends, but decided against it and went back to bed, dissapointed that we couldn’t go.
A few hours later, my mum returned from a trip to a car boot sale with my dad, where they had bought he quite a few ‘presents’ for the new house – a quaint picture frame, some candlesticks, a recipe book holder for the kitchen, and several other items. This isn’t unusual – it was a nice thought and they have plenty of money, and historically my mum has always shown her ‘love’ through buying my affection (and then rejecting it!).
Anyway, something very strange happened. My mum walks into my room, sits down on the bed, and comes out with it. “I don’t want you to go.” One thousand emotions ran through my mind in the split seconds following her admission; the main one was that I needed to remove myself from the situation. Being unable to deal with her being openly affectionate with me, I guess, is a result of wanting it for so long and not getting it. I did the one thing I know how to do; I blanked it out. I replied, “Okay”, turned over in bed and pretended to go back to sleep.
You would think after wanting my mum to show me affection all this time, I would jump at the opportunity and cling to it for dear life. It just isn’t like that. Now, when she shows any consideration or open affectionate for me, it’s like I close down. Perhaps because I have never had to respond to it in the past, I don’t know how to, and that scares me. I am physically unable to accept it and I close down.
I do dream of one day being able to give my mum to link to this blog but I somehow doubt that will ever happen. I remember distinctly the day when she came over to the place I was living at the time, with a carer, and demanded to know what was going on. I decided to be brave, and confront her about the way she had treated me at times, mainly about the fact that I felt she cared more about her work than me, and about the fact that she has never been there for me emotionally, despite paying for things like a private school, a pony, a car – the list goes on. I was strong enough to do this because, despite being very ill mentally at the time, my carer was in the room and I felt stronger in her presence.
Unfortunately for me, my mum does not like being challenged, and she does not like being made to feel like she is the one at fault. Perhaps I was tactless, but given my mental state at the time, it was the only way I could get the words out. Perhaps they came over as accusations; either way she became very defensive and lashed out. She told me I was an awful daughter, that I had very been there for her, including when she had cancer several years ago (This is indeed true, I couldn’t bring myself to visit her in hospital until I was forced to by my Dad), how I have let her down in a big way throughout my life. At some point, I began to dissociate and all I could say was “Please leave now. Please leave now.” As soon as she left, I went upstairs, retrieved a razor that was hidden under my mattress (the rest had been confiscated and hidden), went into the bathroom, and holding my arm over the sink, I cut. The following was the result;
Note: This picture was from around two years ago, when the problem happened with my mum
A vaugely remember Vicki (my CPN) arriving and telling my carer to get me to hospital for stitches, and getting them done. I only returned to myself to following morning. My mum never found out that I had cut because of what she said to me, even I am not that cruel, although at times I have wished I could be. Perhaps she would realise then how much her thoughtless words can damage me.
Anyway, back to sunday. Most of the day, she hung around me, asking me if I would to do things (go to the cinema? go for a walk?) or offering help while I was sorting things out and wanting to talk about the house, and what plans I had made for it. It was all very strange and I question her motives.
Later that day, I spoke to Jen, and told her about how my mum had been acting. She told me that perhaps I should give her a break, and try to build some bridges until I was too late. I snapped at her a little, and later apologised. It’s not that I don’t want to – I just don’t physically feel able to let my mum in, and even thinking about doing so brings about such terrible anxiety that I feel like I am going to be sick, my stomach clenches and I reach for the valium.
I will always remember being with a childhood friend Paul, and his mum fell over. He immediately dropped what he was doing, ran over to her and made sure she was okay. I remember thinking at the time (I must have been about nine) that I wished I could be like that with my mum. I don’t know why, but I even find it extremely difficult to show her concern when she is ill, for example, when she had cancer, or when she had her stroke. Like I said, I so desperately want to, but for some reason, I can’t. Because of this she thinks I don’t care but it couldn’t be any further than the truth. I do believe that the way she has brought me up has contributed to it though; and as a result I am ‘overly’ affectionate to other people; Jen, other friends, boyfriends; all that affectionate is re-directed.
Anyway, moving on, my dog Hogan is lame. It isn’t bad, but it scares the sh*t out of me anything being wrong with him, and not knowing what it is. I have taken a video of him and sent it to Jen for her advice and am thinking about taking him to the vet later. I brought him to work with me earlier as I couldn’t cope not being with him; I couldn’t work, I couldn’t concentrate, and perhaps my mum understood that as she normally would comment about the fact he shouldn’t be in the office, and this morning, he didn’t. I know (I hope) it is something silly like he has bashed it, but regardless I was so anxious I had to take some valium this morning. I seem to be taking more and more so I just need to keep an eye on that.