Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Trapped; Alone; Forgotten

Today has been really rough for me. I have been dissociating so badly that I cried two different times today. For those of you who know me, I never cry. I have not felt this out of control in a very long time.

I have also been haunted with the memory of a trip I took with my mom and my sister Renee last year at the end of April. Renee was playing club volleyball and they had a big tournament in California. My mom really wanted to go but she didn't want to drive all the way there by herself, so she asked me to accompany her. At the time, I was done with my classes on Thursday morning, so we had decided to leave right after I got home from class.

I was so excited to go to California. I hadn't been on a trip in a while (at the time) because I had been so sick. At the time, I was on a strict liquid and smoothie diet because my body could not handle solid foods. I couldn't do any physical activity because I could pass out and possible go into a coma - not good. My mom also had gotten tickets for the three of us to go to Knotts Berry Farm after the last game on Sunday morning. I had never been to Knotts Berry Farm and I LOVE LOVE LOVE roller coasters. I guess "excited" isn't a big enough word to describe what I felt.

All of my friends knew I was going and how excited I was. I talked about it for weeks before and everyone was so happy for me.

The big day came to leave for CA. We packed the car and started the drive.

Not even ten minutes had gone by when my mom said, "Why do you have multiple personalities? You were only molested a little bit like once."

I felt like she had hit me with her SUV. I sat there in stunned silence.

Memories flooded me with all of the abuse that I had remembered up to that point in time. I felt trapped and helpless. My sister was in the van with her team, which left me alone in this horrible situation.

My mom continued to nag me and question me, leaving me to defend everything I was saying. Every question had an accusation tied to it. Every word had a bitter taste. I wanted to fling myself out the car door onto the highway.

After three hours of torture, we finally pulled off to get some lunch and gas for the car. As soon as the car stopped I made a run for the bathroom. I did not want to leave that smelly, tiny cramped space. But I was sure that my mom would notice if I never left.

I collected myself and went out to join her for lunch. I sipped my Apple Juice quietly while she STILL continued to question me, right there in the fast food restaurant!

We continued our journey to CA. She then started to question about which split was out when during my high school years. "Which one didn't like to do family things? Which one always lied? Which one said *this*? Which one did *this*? Which one was depressed? Which one was suicidal? Which one was friends with so and so?" On and on and on. My response became "I don't know" or "I don't remember". The sad thing was, after all the questions about which one was this or that, half of them had been me. I felt like she blamed my splits for all the "bad things" she didn't like about me. I couldn't bring myself to tell her that some of those times it was me. I felt completely horrible.

When those questions were exhausted, she began naming every male relative and every male acquaintance who could have hurt me/abused me. "What about *this person*? Did he hurt you? Did he do something to you? Did you tell someone he was doing it? Why didn't you tell someone? Didn't you know it was wrong? Did he threaten you?" On and on and on. I gave her the least bit of information I could. And then after all this, she had the nerve to ask... "Are you sure you didn't make this all up?"


I wanted to scream. I wanted to hurt her. I wanted so badly to get out of the horrible situation I was put into. I HATED THIS.

I couldn't even speak I was so upset and appalled and offended. How could a 3 year old make something up like that? How could any 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17 year old make up that kind of stuff? I remember sitting next to my grandmother when I was 2 years old, TWO YEARS OLD. She was reading to me and I saw something in the book that made me think of the man who was hurting me at the time, but I didn't know how to say it. I didn't know how to say what I was feeling so I just started crying. I cried for a long time and my grandmother just held me.

I said to my mom, "Why would you say something like that?"
Her reply, "Well, did you make it up?"

She wonders why we have such a crappy relationship. The main reason, I feel like she doesn't trust me and I feel like she thinks I made up all of my abuse, my DID, my depression, my suicidal problems, my pain, etc.

Six hours later, we were finally in CA but not close to our destination. I was exhausted, extremely upset, and very numb. We pulled up to the gas station on the border next to the van my sister was in. I jumped out and ran to the van and grabbed my sister.

"She is questioning me to NO END," I whispered in her ear. Her eyes went big and she said "Oh my gosh, really?" She gave me a hug and told me she was so so sorry. I wish I could have drug her back to the car with me for some kind of buffer, but she couldn't. Her coach said she had to ride with the team. She apologized profusely, gave me another hug, and climbed back into the van. I slowly sauntered back to the car.

The next questioning session began. She somehow managed to figure out most of my abusers from the previous list of males she had come up with. She then came to the conclusion that, "Okay, so it was all of dad's side of the family or friends from dad's side of the family. So my family is the good side, right?" This time I glared at her. I did not answer the question. I may not get along with my dad, but I didn't find this accusation to be fair to him. It is not his fault that his family is so messed up and that my mom's family is not as messed up.

It started to get dark outside, which made the inside of the car dark enough for me to silently cry. After bottling up all of these feelings and emotions, I had to release them before I did something I would regret. But unfortunately the darkness did not stop her questioning.

Mom: "Why didn't you ever tell me what was going on?"
Me: "I did, mom, more than once."
Mom: "When?"
Me: "When I was 7, *he* was molesting me in the family room and I heard you come into the kitchen. I ran to you and I told you he was touching me and I didn't like it. And then you laughed at me."
Mom: "I don't remember that."

Of course you didn't... How convenient for you.

Me: "I also told you when *he 2* was living with us. I told you I didn't want him there and I didn't want him to babysit us when you and dad would leave. I begged you several times."
Mom: "Did you tell me what he was doing to you?"
Me: "He threatened me mom. Of course I couldn't tell you. I thought by telling you I didn't want him there anymore that you would listen to me."
Mom: "I don't remember that."

I didn't voice that I had given up telling her after that. My 9 year old self could not get through to anyone. My mom was not the only person I tried to tell. I also tried to tell my best friend at the time, who said I was crazy because he was so nice to all of the kids. I also tried to tell my teacher who said I was lying to get attention. I also tried to tell my aunt who pretty much ignored me after that. I tried to tell my mom so many times from when I was about 7 to when I was almost 10, and each time she either dismissed it like it was nothing, or she would laugh it off. I gave up after that. If nobody cared then I must not be worth anything.

Finally, we sat in silence for about a half an hour. All I could think about was how would I survive with my mom for a whole weekend, just the two of us. My sister would have to stay with her team the whole time until the end of their last game. I didn't know what to do. I felt so trapped and so alone. Nobody could help me. It was like I was a little kid again - trapped and alone with no where to turn.

The rest of the weekend continued to be my mom demanding me to tell her things, questioning me to death, and accusing me of making it all up. I cried myself to sleep every single night.

And she wonders why we have such a crappy relationship right now.

At the time I didn't know how to set boundaries. I was just barely starting to "walk on my own two feet" again, so to speak. Sometimes I wonder how different that trip could have been if I had known how to set those boundaries.

I had never been so happy to see Renee after her game on Sunday morning. I literally stayed by her side the entire day at Knotts Berry Farm. I tried my hardest not to talk to my mom and focused on trying to have fun. Those roller coasters were like much needed drugs. I finally felt free for those few seconds on each ride. At closing, we left and went back to the hotel. Early Monday morning, we headed back home.

With my sister in the car, my mom didn't dare ask me anymore questions. I still felt completely horrible and I cried most of the way home. I had never cried so much at any point in my life until that weekend.

And then when we got home, my mom had the nerve to ask, "So did you have fun?"

She asked me that at least 15 more times after that. And each time, I lied and said "Yes."

Ever since that California trip with my mom, our relationship has been really bad. I know I still blame her for that weekend. I thought I worked through all of it but clearly from writing this post I have not forgiven her. No wonder I snap at her every time she comes near me. She acts like nothing is wrong - that she did nothing wrong.

But she did. She did do something wrong. A mom should not treat her daughter like she is a liar. A mom should stick by her daughter. A mom should defend her daughter. A mom should stick up for her daughter. But instead she accused me of lying, of making it all up. How am I supposed to forgive her for that?

And now my T wants me to talk to my mom about boundaries, about our relationship, about where we are at right now. And I can't do that. It's too much for me. I don't want my mom to do those things to me again, to say those awful things. I'm afraid of her and I shouldn't be. I feel so betrayed and worthless when I am around her, and I don't want to.

I talked to my mom shortly after this trip - about how she made me feel and about how much I hated the trip. She apologized and said she didn't mean to hurt me, but it didn't feel like she really meant it. It sounded like she was just saying it to dismiss me. But I was too torn up at the time to fight it, so I let it go.

Apparently, it is still haunting me.

I don't know why I suddenly started thinking about this trip today. I've only told my sister Bri about it in this much detail. I told most of my friends that I had had a blast on the trip, and I have never felt so horrible about lying.

The sad thing is, after writing it all out, I still feel absolutely horrible. I just wish I could make things right with my mom. I wish we could be friends like we used to be when I was younger. I wish my mom would try to understand me, my pain, my splits, my abuse, my suffering, my everything - but she won't. She wants me to be "normal" so badly that she is willing to make me miserable until I act the way she wants me to.

I don't want to act "normal" anymore. I don't want to be the perfect daughter that I'm clearly not. I want her to see me for who I am.

Is that too much to ask?


P.S. I'm sorry for this ridiculously long post, but I really needed to share this with someone else. I hope this explains why I have such a hard time with my mom...


  1. Have you thought that maybe you never will have a good relationship with your mom? That maybe she never will believe you? That maybe she will always forget when you tried to ask for help?

    I honestly don't mean this in a bad way, and I am not slighting your mom. I think you are very brave to even talk about it with her. My mother would cover her ears, change the subject, and accuse me of lying. At this time I have little to no relationship with my family of origin, and that happened before I was diagnosed with DID. Sometimes I also think that you can only try so hard for so long before you realize you need to move on and heal and follow your own dreams, with or without your family/mother.

    You don't have to be a perfect daughter. Be what you need/want to be for you - all of yous.

    Take care.


  2. I'm just starting to read your blog.....

    I thought I started at the beginning but
    I see now there is another month before
    this..... I'll go farther back and read more

    I don't know why they wouldn't believe us
    when we told them. They told us to tell
    them. We did!


  3. "I don't know why they wouldn't believe us
    when we told them. They told us to tell
    them. We did!"

    If you end up reading more of my blog, I remember writing a post about how many different times I tried to tell someone. I keep journals (I have been since I was about 4 or 5) and I even wrote in my journals that I tried to tell.

    Now that they know, they blame us for not telling or they say we're making it up. It's like we can never win.