Emails with Mum

My therapist cried because I read her the email I sent my mum:

Dear Mum,

I need to say something. It's hard for me. I'm sorry I cannot be there to say it in person.

When we moved from SuperCity, I felt like I lost everything. I felt like I lost you. I didn't know how to say it then, or any of the other times, but I missed you, mum. I miss you.

I know you tried your best. I tried my best, too. I want you to know me. I need to know you. I need my mum.

It's okay if you don't know what to say. I know it is hard for you to express yourself too. I just need you to accept me and give me a chance to accept you.

These years have been so hard, but I have learned so much. I want to share it with you. I don't really know how. Can we figure it out together?

Love,

Eliza

My therapist said, before I read out the rest of the emails, that it was a beautiful letter and that there was no mistaking it: I would know by my mum's response whether it was possible to have the sort of relationship with her that I so deeply need.

"That's why I wrote it."

I need to draw a line under this. I need to know I've done everything I could do.

So I read out my mum's reply:

I love you Eliza.
And I love the woman you have become. I am very proud of you. I love our skype sessions, because I get to see you when I talk to you.
I miss you.
Let's figure it out together. what next?

And we talked about how the reply made me felt. Disappointed. Strangely unassured.

"How can she love the woman I've become? She doesn't know me." My hands clenched.

My reply:

Thanks for your reply, mum. It's still very difficult for me to take all of that in, and I'm not sure what to say. It scares me to hear you say that you love the woman I've become, because the woman I've become is, yes, independent and successful, but also incredibly isolated, unhappy, unhealthy and hurt.

I am glad you like video-chatting, but I don't like doing the videos because I feel under scrutiny, like an animal at the zoo. It is difficult for me to relax and be myself.

I do want to get to know you better, and I do want to open up more to you. But it's scary! I can't think of anything else in the world I'm more terrified of. It will take time. If you want to better understand what I experience, this FAQ is a good start:

http://www.isst-d.org/education/faq-dissociation.htm

I understand if reading it makes you anxious or upset or confused or ____. I'm not scared of your feelings and my only expectation from you is that you make an effort to share them with me, as I will try my best to share mine with yours (no matter how scary they are). I want to focus on the present and will try to include you more in my current and future experiences.

Today is Drew's birthday. He opened the presents earlier this morning and was very excited with all of them. I'm sure he'll thank you himself later. Tell my cousin we said hi and that we miss them and hope they will enjoy the fair for us this year and please send us pictures. I don't feel up to video-chatting with anyone today but look forward to video chatting in the future.

love,

Eliza

Her reply:

I'm sorry you feel that the video chatting puts you in a cage. I like it because I feel like more of a connection with you. Probably like how you used to feel when you video chatted with Drew when you were dating. It' hard for me to understand why you can't relax and be yourself, probably because I don't worry about what I'm wearing or how I look when I call you.

I read the FAQ. It was pretty comprehensive. I'm trying to put together what I read with what you are experiencing. Or, what part of what I read is what you are experiencing, is a better question.

Are you seeing someone on a regular basis - a professional someone? Or are you researching and trying to work through your own treatment regimen?
What can I do to help you?

My reply:

Thanks for your message. Actually, I felt a bit like a performing animal in a circus/zoo with Drew, too. I think many insecure people feel that way when they are dating, whether it is on video or not. People just want to be seen and accepted, and this causes a lot of anxiety. It's not always about how they look, but about who they are. I'm glad you don't feel insecure around me.

I'm just about to finish up a year of psychotherapy. Next week is my last week. It has helped me enormously. I still have a lot more to work on to be the person I want to be; that is my responsibility and I'm confident in my ability to continue without my therapist. I sent you that link because I wanted you to have some perspective on why this is hard for me. Not to label it or get help in managing it.

The best thing you can do to help me is to be authentic (be yourself) and responsive and kind. It will take time build the relationship that we both want. I don't need a therapist or a friend or a daughter; I need my mom. I don't want to dig up the past but I'm not afraid to talk about it. I simply want you to have a bigger part in my present and future.

Yesterday Carrie and I used the ice cream maker to make oreo ice cream (it fits into her freezer). It was super-creamy and fresh. Now that I know how much cream is in it, I have been eating a lot less ice cream. That's probably a good thing! I'm going to make raspberry sorbet next or a frozen yoghurt. I miss the chubby hubby flavour which has peanut butter and pretzels in it.

I'm sad about psychotherapy ending because my therapist and I have a really good relationship. I'll miss her and I know she'll miss me too. I had a less positive experience with a therapist before her, so I know a good connection isn't guaranteed. I'm grateful for her help.

BW,

Eliza

And her reply:

Well, I certainly hope we can become closer. It still bothers me that I feel like Gram had all these meaningful conversations with everyone else before she died and not with me.
I suppose avoiding conflict can flow into conversations, too.

I'm glad you had a good therapist.That can make all the difference with what you get out of your time.

Just let me know what you need.

I love you,
Mum

And my reply:

I don't understand what you mean about avoiding conflict flowing into conversations. Does this have to do with Gram? After she died, I could sense your loss and it seemed to be about much more than just her passing. Did you find it hard to talk to Gram about meaningful things?

You keep asking how you can help or what I need, but I keep saying: I just want to know you and for you to know me. Is that confusing to you? Do you feel like you know me already?

As you can probably tell, I've reverted into the Parent again. It only took a couple emails to fall completely back into that routine. What I'm trying to figure out now is how I got there...and why I still feel like she's missed the point (again) and failed to respond to me.

Putting the chain all together and reading the first email again, I tried to think about it as my therapist saw it (and how she would react, if she were my Real Mom). Or maybe how I'd react, if I were my Real Mom. It's hard to tell the difference now, as I've introjected so much of my therapist.

What stands out now is what my mum didn't respond to: that is, my feelings. Your daughter says she felt like she lost everything, including her mum, and what do you say? "I love you" -- as though the words are enough. They were never enough. I never doubted she loved me. I just doubt her ability to love. Her ability to see me, to be my mother, and respond to me as a person (a whole Person with her own feelings and ideas).

This is why I stand in front of my husband and he says "I love you" and I say "I need more" and we both feel empty inside. Because the feelings you bury inside DO NOT MATTER unless you do something about them. Unless you make yourself vulnerable and exposed... and unless you reach out and try.

Can I attach to my mum and my husband?
Do I even want to?

They both stood by in silent love while I suffered the lack of them. And now I know how much that hurts. My heart aches for real love, now that I know what it is. I want to be seen, now that I see myself.

I need more.

This week has a triple layer of grief over it, as my relationship with Drew draws closer to ending, my hope in my mum trickles out, and I say good-bye to my therapist. At least I'm not scared or lost or confused or angry. I used to be all of those as well as sad, but today I erased them off my blackboard of adjectives.

All I'm left with is an increasing concern about the fact that I have no idea how to get divorced or where I'd even live. What would my life look like? Would my mother-in-law still care about me? Will Drew's sister still let me volunteer on Saturdays? Will Drew's friends block me on facebook? Will we sell the house? Will I be able to live on my own and still afford school and student loans?

Where is home?

I feel like I've got all the pieces now, but it's going to take a while to put them together.