Catharsis

First Memory

My first memory was distinctly detailed - both in color and detail. I was a baby. I was being held by my mom in a green chair. She smiled at me.

How do you remember such an early memory? Some might ask.

I think the deeper detail was the overwhelming feeling of love that must have been flowing between mother and baby in that memory.

I like to think of that memory from time to time to acknowledge that my mom did, in fact, love me. It brings me comfort in times when I struggle with the current reality of my relationship with her.

See, my mom grew up in a dysfunctional household. She was soon after a set of twins was first to arrive. She often felt forgotten, neglected, and as though, even as a baby, she couldn't add more stress to her mother's plate. Her dad was an emotionally unavailable workaholic. You can start to see the recipe for the coping mechanisms she learned.

Because she was emotionally abandoned from the time she was born, she became what I referred to as a "Rescue Ranger" - she would hone in toward whatever situation she felt the most needed and dwelled there while she over functioned in hopes that she could be acknowledged for her helpfulness. That was how she received validation.

From being a mom and wife, to the career path she chose, and everything in between, she needed to be needed. 

I didn't know the word "codependent" when I was being raised by her, but as an adult, I can confirm - she was the definition of unhealthy codependent behaviors. However, as I grew more aware, I learned that some of those behaviors toward me were super unhealthy. And when I finally address my own codependency, I needed to have firm boundaries with her. Boundaries that she didn't like or agree with, because it removed her "right" to be helpful. 

And this led to us having no contact, by my choice. My peace was continuously disturbed by her needs of me and her need to be needed. Can I tell you, I have had more peace since that no contact boundary was established. Can I also be honest and say, I don't really miss her, because there was so many unhealthy behaviors involved in us having a relationship.

There is obviously more to the story than a five-minute read of explanation. But sometimes, I have to remind myself that having healthy maternal support from a woman is more mom-like than what I was experiencing with the woman who gave birth to me. Does she love me? I know she does in the best way she knows how. Do I love her? Yes. But I know this is the best way for me to live in peace. With the memory of a moment of unconditional love and forgiving and letting go of the rest.