She stole my life. She is my mom…
Mom, where are you? Mommy-ah! The world is grandmothers, isolation and no freedom, right? When I was born, I ripped out my heart, then robbed the rest of me piece by piece.
By the time I was 30, I was gone. There was only her - everywhere and everywhere. Bright, selfish, selfishly demanding from everyone - "Me, me, me …"
She stole my life. Even then, in childhood …
When I was born, I ripped out my heart, then robbed the rest of me piece by piece.
By the time I was 30, I was gone. There was only her - everywhere and everywhere. Bright, selfish, selfishly demanding from everyone - "Me, me, me …".
“I want it so” is the motto of her life. The rest exist only as slaves, to please her, to embody all these "want" in life.
You didn't want me … And now I don't want you
I am reading a letter from the hospital when I appeared:
“Mommy, everything hurts. I didn't know it would hurt that much. When the doctors said that the girl was born, I cried. After all, I so wanted the boy. But I am very happy for Volodya, because he wanted a daughter …"
From that day on, my dad and my grandmother became my mom. The woman who gave birth to me was never there. She was busy with her brother, herself and slept. Such a helpless girl who has shifted the unwanted daughter onto others.
Then there was the principle of raising a child according to the Japanese method. And it sounded like this: "We prohibit nothing." Nice cover to just leave the child to himself, to shift the responsibility to the old great-grandmothers with their quirks and quirks.
Mom, where are you?
Mommy-ah! The world is grandmothers, isolation and no freedom, right?
Mom, come home after work, I'm so looking forward to you. Don't walk past me in your burgundy plaid sundress into the kitchen. Don't shut the door on me under the pretext of having dinner with dad. Delicious? Granny and I prepared this for you, I tried so hard, I waited so much …
Mother. It's already night. What do you do before bed? Granny came to hug me. Dad sat down to tell us stories. Where are you? Why don't you come in? Don't you really love me at all?
Mom appeared unexpectedly and mercilessly
You showed up at school. To betray me …
When I was solving a difficult conflict in the classroom - myself! After all, I never had you … When he was already exhausted and happiness triumphed inside: I won, I am loved, I am one of my friends!.. You came. And she broke my life to the end. You took a meat grinder, put my house of cards in there, fragile, childish, but still built, and played it through the iron of your desires.
You entered the classroom, climbed into my life, uttered nonsense, dragging me there too. Lord, mom! How stupid you have to be to do that. Without asking if I need it. The hatred of teachers and children followed me until the end of school after your public speech.
“I defended you,” you said later, “I couldn't see your tears.
“You defended yourself, Mom. You just did what you wanted again, what got into your head. And again, without thinking about others.
But I didn't say that out loud, of course.
Daughter - rear, fortress, armor
I have always protected you. I remember how at the sea at the age of 6 I took a revolver, when my father's colleague molested you, and my father was in another city. I was not afraid of anything. I was stronger than the men devouring you with hungry eyes.
I was stronger, wiser than you, because I never responded to your blows in kind. I understood the reason for your weakness, although you are not mine. I was not even afraid of my father, who beat you when you drove him to madness. She stood between you, protecting you with herself. Although inside she was always on the side of her wise dad: no one can tolerate this.
But in your quarrels, I took your side. You are weaker, who else will protect you? I mentally prayed: “Daddy, I'm sorry, you are wise, you will understand. After all, you are physically greater, I am with you with all my heart. " Jokes flew out of me from somewhere, dad laughed, he let go. And that means - my mother remained alive.
My father never raised a hand against me. And except me - whether small or big - no one could resist his outbursts of aggression.
At 16, when I already lived outside the nest, coming to you, I shuddered from the clink of dishes. I ran down the stairs: "Ugh, it seemed!" I was very afraid that dad would kill you, and I would not be there to save you.
I remember how plates and pans were flying, leaving holes in the walls. I remember how I washed the kitchen for a week after your marriage games from coffee, blood, glued the wallpaper.
I remember my mother in a 30-degree frost, put out the door in what she was. I remember the police in our house and her fragile body against the wall. But again you asked, begged, begged for these blows. Why did you do it, why?
Abroad, you shouted to everyone: "Learn Russian, why should I understand you ?!" I bought shapeless T-shirts when I was already 20, forcing, demanding to wear them. You didn't let me breathe. And I sometimes thought that when you were gone, I could finally take my breath.
You can't run away from yourself …
The flight saved. First to a guy, then to marriage. I wanted to change the city, but even there you would have followed me everywhere.
Change your phone? Cut the umbilical cord at 35? Why can't I? Why do I feel like your mom? Why am I responsible for you and you are my cross?
You drilled my marriage. So subtly, skillfully fit … And again, like in school, everything through a meat grinder. Mom, you weren't invited here!
When dad fell in love at 45, recovered from illnesses associated with you, I cried with joy for him. He really deserves to be heard. His concern and potential found a way out. It remains to free mom.
How to free her from the imprisonment of herself and her egoism? Give money for another shopping? Talk to her, support? Help her find something she is passionate about?
Do people at 55 change if they seek and find confirmation of their principles of “Love yourself and think only of yourself”? Do loved ones need to stay in this sick relationship or break the umbilical cord, justifying but not agreeing to live like this?
Her life is her life
Mother's life is woven by her hands, this is a choice.
And mine is mine. And the choice must be made. After all, even when the heart is torn out many years ago, you can survive. There's a heart transplant right now, right? Any organ can be restored, replaced. Even the disability of the soul is not a sentence, because now everything is possible.
I remembered how they cut me like a boy. I smile through my tears. It's good that this is in the past. Dad recently said: "I've been tortured for 30 years, now, children, it's your turn …"
The truth about mom was revealed later
Only now, at Yuri Burlan's training "System-Vector Psychology", I was finally able to understand my mother, her pain … Justify her. Understand the father, his behavior. Understand yourself. And it let me go …
Mom has a skin-sound bundle of vectors. It is very difficult for such people in society, they are highly egocentric and from this they themselves often suffer much more than those who are nearby. What children? What do you?! She would be quiet after work, and at home two noisy and naughty weather.
In fact, for us children, the attention of dad and grandmother was a hundred times more useful than the attention that we could get from an emotionless, indifferent, lost mom.
Only now I realized how hard it was for my mother and father. After all, she also has a skin-visual ligament. She is a princess pampered by her parents, and then by the guys. And then marriage with an anal man who demanded borscht and respect his mother.
Sound-willed, she did not want to obey and more and more retreated into herself, and her skin-visual essence wanted to shine and receive attention. Focused on herself, my mother did not know any other option but to be hysterical, to arrange emotional blackmail, to manipulate the complaisant husband's feelings of guilt … For which she received. The exact life scenario to the smallest detail, when you beg for beatings, just to get emotions from a man.
Both parents were not perfect. When my mother went to teach economics and she had the long-awaited opportunity for realization and achievements, including at scientific conferences and olympiads, communication among colleagues and students, my father began to stifle her initiatives in the bud. He was jealous, did not let him go to school evenings. And then he took my mother to a country house to plant flowers. Of course, as a person who loves everything beautiful, she was happy for the first year: she came up with a design, decorated flower beds, a winter garden … But now I understand that there is nothing more important than other people and implementation in society …
Everything has changed
Now, when my parents are divorced, and I have completed the training "System-vector psychology", my mother still comes to my house without a call and brings her order. Before, I would have been indignant, we would have fought, and then we would not communicate for months. Now I am moved. I understand how she lacks communication and implementation. And instead of reprimanding, I let her command a little. She's my mom.
And sometimes she is taken to help. And although he always criticizes my hairstyle, for the first time in my 30 years he says that he loves me and can even hug me.
Yuri Burlan's training brought my mother back to me. Not perfect and not very comfortable. But such as it is. The woman who gave me life gave me an excellent education and complete freedom in life. What else to dream of?
He also gave himself back to me. The real one. Not dependent on my mother's assessment and not waiting for praise. Now I praise myself.
The deeper I sink into my mother's pain, the more human, close, dear is revealed in it.
The terrible state that I owed her let go, and it was replaced by: "I understand you and want to help." And my mother began to change. Not all at once and not in everything, but sparks of light began to appear, a desire to do something to others, not to oneself, manipulating others …
I began to breathe, not waiting for her death. Indeed, in a certain vector, a natural connection with mom and the feeling that you owe her an unpaid debt is the norm. How can we thank the mother who gave birth to us? What can you do more than give life? We can never give birth to our mother. And we are always tormented by this debt, which cannot be returned until we realize it …
Even after mom dies, the excruciating sensation does not leave me alone. A person with an anal vector, instead of resentment, will experience unbearable pain and guilt in front of her. I did not do more, did not give, did not return in full …
PS Do not wait for psychosomatics and incurable diseases to be covered by the heavy burden of resentment and guilt. Do not expect that everything will go away by itself, amusing yourself with the false hope that your mother will change. Do not hope that escape to another world will cut this invisible connection with your mother.
Come to Yuri Burlan's free online training for the opportunity to start living your life, free yourself from the shackles of mother's "love" and become happy, as I did …
Please share in the comments what kind of relationship you have with your mother …