As far back as I can remember I have struggled with my identity. My childhood was messed up. There was neglect, abandonment, verbal abuse, physical abuse, mental abuse, insecurity, and self-destructive behaviors. The "damage" was caused by both my parents. Some might speculate that it was my father mostly; he was a drug addict, horrible to my mother and gone most of the time. He made false promises, disappointed me constantly and hurt me deeply. But if I am being brutally honest, it was my mother that left the deepest scars on me.
For the last 26 years I believed my mother didn't love me, but I was wrong. I have learned over the last two years that my mother is incapable of love. So before I share my experience I want to be very clear about this: I love my mother. I pray for her, I desperately want her to get the help she needs. I pray that God would restore her heart and heal her. Unfortunately until that process begins inside of her we are unable to have a relationship.
My earliest memories of my mother are from when I was four years old. My father was using heavily and I had a new baby sister. My mother was broken. She was incredibly depressed, lonely and living in her own world. I have distinct memories of her staring out the window for days. She wouldn't speak, let alone take care of my sister or I. At four years old I began to grow up. I changed diapers, fixed meals and bottles and kept my sister from danger. My grandparents would come get us at times and when we would go to their house I got to be a kid. This began a pattern of my relationship with my mother Doni. Over the years she would pull herself together, then when she would get overwhelmed or her world would fall apart, we would go back to my grandparents.
Most of my memories from my time with Doni are easy for me to recall and horribly painful to relive. I felt like I was the black cloud in her life. I loved my father, I missed him and that made her angry and sad. I loved my grandparents and missed them, that made her angry and resentful of my relationship with them. But most of all I hated her. I hated that she used me to take care of her and my sister. I hated that she would bring up memories or pick fights with me just to make me upset and as miserable as her. I remember so many times having to hang up the phone with her or leave the room because she would push me to an anxiety attack. Her boyfriends were a nightmare. They were sleazy, scummy and users. They would verbally assault me, taunt and torment me and there were several times that one of them would hit me. She didn't believe me. She let it happen.
Becoming a teenager was hard. The good news was I was living full time with my grandparents. I had to go visit on breaks though. She lived in California so it's not like I could go a weekend at a time. Things would always be okay the first week or two but it was inevitable that crap would hit the fan. Every fight we got into was worse than the one before. I was so angry and resentful to her. She felt the same toward me.
I was confused, hurt and I honestly just didn't understand why she hated me so much and yet she was a completely different person to my sister. I struggled with insecurity, abandonment, co-dependency and self-worth from the age of 14. At 16 I decided that if my own parents couldn't love me, I must not be worth it. I attempted to take my own life.
I thank God constantly for the blessing of life He gave me. I was not successful in my attempt and after a stomach pump, in-patient therapy and tons of counseling I made the decision to give myself a chance. I worked very hard in therapy. I had to face the ugliness of not just my childhood but of the person I had become. Over the years I used coping and survival skills that were not healthy or representative of the person I actually wanted to be. I used alcohol, sex, manipulation, guilt, money and food to attempt to fill the hole in my heart. I would do anything and everything to gain attention and affection. I would hurt the people closest to me when I suspected they might be on the verge of seeing my ugliness and leaving. I put on a mask.
I wore that mask for so long that I actually began to believe it was who I was. I believed I was a manipulative unlovable person. Then I got to know someone that would change not only my life, but me from the inside out. I gave my heart, in all it's shattered pieces, to God. I asked for forgiveness, redemption and love. God gave those things to me immediately and completely, it just took me some time to actually accept and receive them. I questioned His faithfulness and sincerity. But finally I felt peace. I felt relief. I felt love and I felt whole. My life verse is Romans 8:31 "If God is for us; who can be against us?" For the first time in my life, at 27 years old I fully and completely trusted that not only was I loveable but God created me in His image; His image!!! I was no longer the broken child of my past.
Once I got to know the person that God created me to be I began on letting go of the demons of my past. I am still in therapy today, I still struggle with anxiety and depression. I have reclaimed most of my life and repaired several important relationships. The one relationship I don't feel capable to reclaim is the one with Doni.
Two years ago I had to set boundaries with Doni because her frequent outbursts and dramatic fights were upsetting and triggering the post traumatic stress responses from my childhood. It wasn't healthy for me to be so overwhelmed and overstimulated while going through therapy and learning how to be a new wife and mother. I asked her for simple boundaries: please don't bring up the past and please don't involve yourself in my other relationship (the ones I hold with my father, sister, grandmother etc) Sadly, she not only refused but had another dramatic meltdown. I remained hopeful that she would calm down and we could someday move forward. I stayed quiet about my "side" of the story. I didn't want to add fuel to the fire and well no one knew about my childhood so how would they understand me now? We didn't speak for two years. I reached out. I sent pictures of Grace, I sent texts, I added her on Facebook. I was trying. I didn't get a single reply.
The final straw was a week before Easter. Doni unexpectedly moved back to Oregon. I was upset at first, mostly because I am pregnant and I really am not in a position for extra stress. But I knew how hard it was on my family that we were not speaking so I reached out again. I offered to go to coffee or counseling, what ever she wanted. She refused me again. It was at that moment that I accepted the fact that my mother does not want to fix things with me. She does not want a relationship with me or my children. It confirmed all my feelings and instincts as a child that she cannot love me enough to give up her resentment and anger.
I'm sorry that my family is hurt by all of this. I hate that my grandmother and sister are in the middle. But I am also sorry that no one knows how this is hurting me. My childhood was much more difficult than I ever let on, I still have deep secrets and scars. I desperately desire a relationship with my mother. My heart is broken that it is likely I will never have one.
If you've read this far, I have one request. Please keep me and Doni in your prayers. My wounds are still hurting but they are also healing. I am not going to be silent anymore. My name is no longer regret and it's no longer defeat.
My name is Cassey, I am wife, mother, friend, daughter, sister, cousin, niece, and a child of God.
