August 28th 2024.
On my way home, my mother's harsh words still echoing in my mind, I couldn't help but feel a sense of loss. It wasn't just the lack of pleasant memories, or the constant haze that seemed to cloud my mind. It was the realization that my own mother had never truly celebrated any part of my life.
As a child, I was sickly and had to undergo surgeries for scoliosis. These experiences, combined with my mother's toxic behavior, made it difficult for me to remember any happy moments with her. Instead, all I could recall were moments tarnished by her scorn and disappointment.
One such moment was when I was only five years old, out on a day trip with my grandmother. We visited arts shops, and when my grandmother asked if there was anything I wanted, I excitedly pointed to a clay elephant statue. I loved elephants, and my grandmother bought it for me. But when my mother came to pick me up, she was visibly annoyed. She berated me for choosing something that my grandparents couldn't afford. By the time we reached home, the gift had turned into a painful memory. Even now, over 25 years later, the elephant still holds a bittersweet meaning for me.
My mother's obsession with image and appearances also affected my childhood. She would always dress me nicely and buy tasteful things for our home. But this also meant that any deviation from her expectations was met with anger and disappointment. I remember one instance when I was wearing white slippers at home and my mother scolded me for ruining our family's image in front of our neighbors. It didn't matter that I was only a child, or that I had no control over our image as a family.
As I grew older, her behavior only became more toxic. When I was 10, I had a sleepover with my friends, and my mother yelled at me in front of them because she was afraid they would ruin her expensive furniture. She never hit me, but she also never celebrated me. Birthdays were reduced to receiving money that I couldn't even touch because it was meant for my college education. This lack of celebration continued well into my adult life.
When I finally left my Baltic homeland at 18 to move to England with my then-boyfriend, I only went home a handful of times. It was never a pleasant experience, and the painful memories didn't end there. When I got engaged in my early twenties, my mother called me in a fury and demanded that I take down my engagement photos from social media because they weren't pretty or romantic enough. I was still a university student and didn't have the means to have a lavish engagement shoot, but I complied with her demand. Looking back now, I regret bowing down to her and letting her dictate my happiness.
My wedding was a small and private affair, and when I showed my mother the photos, she demanded that my in-laws be cut out because they were "ruining" the photo. I refused to give in to her unreasonable request and kept the photo as it was, including my new family. My mother's expectations were always unattainable, and even happy moments were reduced to bitter tears.
In my late 20s, after I was fired from a job, I called my mother seeking comfort and reassurance. But instead, her reaction caused me so much emotional distress that I resorted to self-harm. It was clear that our relationship had become toxic and damaging for my well-being.
This series aims to shed light on the complex and nuanced topic of familial estrangement. My story is just one of many, and I hope that by sharing it, we can start a conversation about the different degrees of separation that exist within families. Despite the pain and heartache, I have come to realize that sometimes, the healthiest choice is to distance ourselves from toxic relationships, even if it means cutting ties with our own family.
As I made my way home, I couldn't help but feel a sense of dread wash over me. You see, I have a lot of memories missing from my life. It's like there's a fog that surrounds my past, making it difficult to recall even the most significant moments. I was a sickly child, and that led me to undergo several surgeries for my scoliosis. Ever since then, my life has been somewhat of a blur.
The sad truth is, I can't seem to remember a single moment in my life that my mother celebrated. It breaks my heart to think that all my memories of her are tainted and toxic. When I was just five years old, I went out with my grandmother for a day of exploring art shops. My grandmother, being the kind soul that she is, asked me if there was anything I wanted. Of course, I immediately spotted a clay elephant statue and pointed at it excitedly. Elephants were my absolute favorite, so my grandmother bought it for me without hesitation.
However, when my mother came to pick me up, she was visibly annoyed. She scolded me for choosing something so expensive, saying that my grandparents didn't have a lot of money. By the time we got home, the joy of receiving such a special gift was overshadowed by my mother's harsh words. It's been over 25 years, and that elephant statue still holds a bittersweet place in my heart.
It wasn't the only time my mother made me feel small and insignificant. I remember another incident where I was wearing white slippers, and my mother berated me for ruining our family's image. She was so concerned about what our neighbors would think if they saw me in such "clashing" footwear. You see, image meant a lot to my mother, and she always made sure I was dressed nicely. She also had a taste for expensive things, as I learned when I let my friends sleep on our leather Italian couch during a sleepover. My mother yelled at me in front of them, embarrassed and ashamed of what she saw as a potential ruin to her expensive furniture.
She never laid a hand on me, but she never celebrated me either. Even on my birthdays, I would receive money as a gift, but it was always for college, and I couldn't touch it. This lack of celebration continued well into my adult life. When my husband and I bought our first apartment, I excitedly shared the news with my mother. But instead of being happy for me, she criticized my decision, saying I should have bought a freehold property instead of a leasehold. That was the moment I realized her expectations were always way above the reality of my situation.
As I grew older, I distanced myself from my mother. I couldn't handle her constant negativity and criticism. It all came to a head when I got engaged in my early twenties. My mother called me, furious, demanding that I take down my engagement photos from social media because they weren't "pretty" or "romantic" enough. I was still a university student, and I couldn't understand what she expected from me. But out of fear and desperation for her approval, I complied. Looking back, I regret not standing up for myself and my own happiness.
Even on my wedding day, my mother couldn't resist trying to control and manipulate everything. She wanted my in-laws to be cut out of our family photos, saying they were "ruining" the picture. Thankfully, I stood my ground and refused to let her slice away the family that I was now a part of. But the painful memories didn't end there. Once, when she visited my old flat, she decided she didn't like my living conditions and threw out all my furniture without my permission. My husband and I spent the entire weekend assembling new, cheap furniture as she berated us and our home.
It was after this incident that my husband calmly declared that if my mother ever came to visit again, she wouldn't be allowed in. And I agreed. I couldn't handle her constant negativity and toxic behavior any longer. The final straw came when I was in my late 20s and got fired from my job. I called my mother, hoping for some support and love from a mother. Instead, her reaction caused me so much emotional distress that I resorted to self-harm.
It was clear that our relationship was beyond repair. And that's when I learned about the concept of "degrees of separation." This series aims to offer a nuanced look at familial estrangement, and it resonated with me deeply. Despite everything my mother put me through, I still long for a loving and nurturing relationship with her. But for now, I have to focus on healing and moving forward without her toxic presence in my life.
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