It is my own fault. I have created my own heartbreak through expectation. I didn’t mean to. It was just something that happened.
Everyone has expectations about what their mother should be like; a protector, someone to love you and guide you. My mother has never loved me or protected me but yet still, unrealistically, I hoped that she would change. I had those expectations.
That hope, that longing and that expectation has led to the heartbreak I feel now.
I wish I had never met her. I know that sounds ridiculous because I wouldn’t be here without her but it is true; I wish I had never met her. I wish someone else had been my mother.
At least then this pain I feel or the tears I want to cry would never exist. There would be no need to try to impress and there would be no fear of rejection. She would never have made me feel worthless and like I am nothing. There would be no heartache.
Usually I can dissociate when feelings or emotions are involved. Dissociation is something that I mastered a long time ago. It has helped me withstand pain and loss under which I might have normally broken. When it comes to my mother I dissociate a lot.
Detaching was the only way I knew how to survive but continual dissociation has not made me strong. I have just been hiding from reality and numbing the pain I was too scared to feel.
Detaching is my coping mechanism, my defence mechanism, my protection from pain. However, as I discovered this week in therapy, it has left me with feelings that I have never processed, feelings that I am too scared to process.
I wish I could lose those feelings as fast as I lost my mother. The way she gave up on me so easily kills me inside. Knowing I did the best I could but that it still wasn’t good enough and knowing that she chose my abuser over me hurts. Knowing that by holding onto my expectations of her I have somehow lost myself makes me sad and angry inside.
She has written me off. She has chosen, once again, to stand by my abuser, my rapist, my tormentor. I expected it. I knew she would stand by him yet I feel so hurt and betrayed all over again.
It is my own fault for expecting, no hoping, that with his arrest she would finally hear me, finally see me and see what he did to me. Instead she has ripped me apart all over again.
I try to block it out, to detach, but something is different now. I feel things I don’t want to feel.
I wish I could stop these feelings that have suddenly appeared but I can’t. I can’t lie and pretend I am not hurting because my heart knows the truth too well. It knows that in reality I am being torn apart, piece by piece, feeling by feeling.
My heart knows that this goodbye, the one that will never be spoken or explained, will be my most painful goodbye.
My heart knows that no matter how hard I try to only hate her that I can’t and that I have to walk away still having some sort of love for her. Not because I want to feel love for her but because I feel I have to I suppose. As much as I just want to hate her there is still that small piece of me that cares and I hate it.
As I was sat in my therapist’s office this week telling her how my mother was standing by my rapist, she asked me how I felt.
Knowing me well by now she knew that my stern expression and me saying that I didn’t care was just a front and just self-protection.
Too scared that I would cry I could not look her in the eye as I told her how I really feel. I explained how when I think of my mother and what she has done I feel overwhelmed with sadness. I explained how my chest gets heavy and it hurts to breathe. I told her how it feels like I have a real physical pain in my chest that makes me want to cry.
Then my therapist told me that the word I am looking for to explain how I feel is “heartbroken”.
I nearly collapsed in a ball and I was close to tears as she said it again, telling me that my mother has broken my heart.
As she told me that I am justified and allowed to feel hurt and to feel sad, all I could think is that it is my own fault.
I shouldn’t have hoped that she would change. I shouldn’t have expected her to be a mother. I shouldn’t have longed for her to love me.
I have created my own heartbreak through expectation. Though I saw this coming it still hurts.
My heart is broken into little pieces and I am not sure how to put it back together. I will find a way though. I have to. I am just not sure what that way is yet but I will find it sometime. Then I will put my heart back together one little piece at a time.
Yes heartbreak hurts but sometimes it is the best motivation!
Thanks for reading
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