Grieving an abusive woman, who was never a mother ~ Lilly Hope Lucario

I am grieving a woman, who as far I know, is not dead.

But, she is dead to me.

I’m grieving an entire abusive childhood.

I’m grieving a mother who wanted me abused, in the worst possible ways.

I’m grieving not having a mother who loved me.

I’m grieving not having safety, love, being cherished.

I’m grieving being made to be a mother, so young.

I’m grieving all the fear, pain, aloneness, anxiety, suicidal thoughts… all experienced so young.

I’m grieving a mother who failed in so many ways. Intentionally.

I’m grieving all the things a good mother and daughter do, I never experienced.

I’m grieving a mother who blamed and used me as the scapegoat, in such cruel ways.

I’m grieving all the tears I’ve cried.

I’m grieving a carefree childhood – where you can just be a child, I never had.

I’m grieving my innocence being stolen so young, and knowing my mother was complicit in it.

I’m grieving many layers of abuse, suffering, trauma, and neglect.

I’m grieving all the lifelong consequences, caused by this woman, who was my mother.

I’m grieving her, what she should have been, who she should have been and all she should of done.

I’m grieving a woman who gave birth to me, but was never in fact – a mother.

I’m grieving the safe arms and hugs, I never had.

I’m grieving who I may have been, if I’d had a good mother. Not a perfect mother, but good enough. I wonder who I would be now. I would probably be happy. I wouldn’t be feeling this pain I feel now.

I’m grieving a woman who is not even dead. But was simply an abusive woman, and not a mother.

I don’t have good memories or times to look back on, to cherish.

I only have pain, horrific memories and suffering, that haunts me still, night and day.

And I would rather be dead, than feel any more of this pain.

Really tough weekend.

It’s my mothers Birthday today. And mothers day tomorrow.

Can I just go to sleep and wake on Monday please?

 

It’s amazing how much I can put on an okay front, around my children. Which I always do, particularly on Mothers Day. There will be smiles and hugs and excitement as I show my children what they are needing, on Mothers Day.

But inside, I’m just dying a little more.

Doesn’t help that I have issues going on with my counsellor, and I can’t rely on her support either.

When dealing with childhood complex trauma, counsellors become like a parent figure and help the client learn all the things they weren’t modelled, told etc…. Their job is to re-parent.

So, it feels like an added betrayal, to see the same issues of failing to keep children safe from predators, echoed