Unraveling the Stories I’ve Told Myself
Over the last two years I have been doing the work to heal some pieces of me I honestly forgot were broken. It’s funny how the years can fly by and those old wounds get buried under busyness or new found joy but one little blip can bring them flooding back. My therapist tasked me with learning to “parent little Shelly” and I was like say what? I have been wondering ever since that day what the heck that was suppose to mean but you know, God, he’s so very sneaky! He has continued to put things in my path to clear my understanding and I get it now. It’s about unraveling the stories I’ve told myself and replacing them with truth.
We all carry around our own story and so many times the story we told ourselves in childhood to survive, we continue to tell ourselves. My underlying story is the feeling that I must set aside my own feelings and do for others or I’m not deserving of love. Unfortunately, that comes out in maniupulative actions towards those most dear when at some point I’ve exhausted myself. Not feeling appreciated or approved of is like a knife to my heart at times.
All this to say, I’ve started the journey of taking a step back to my childhood and unraveling the story I told myself. It’s quickly becoming the story of how my mom losing her memory is helping to heal mine and I really hope to share pieces of this journey here.
It’s hard to say what my true earliest memory really is and whether I truly remember it fully for myself or have only created the picture from the stories my mom has shared with me. The memories for me seem very clear and vivid and feel very real but it’s hard to imagine that I would remember things as early as 3 years old.
The one thing I do know, for all of my childhood, my dad spent six to nine months out of the year working away from home and my mom was the constant in my life. She was there doing the daily work of raising me and my brother and often taking the full brunt of any disdain we had with authority. I missed my dad so much and was always thrilled to see him and always took for granted that I never had the chance to really miss my mom; that is until now.
Losing my dad to colon cancer when he was 58 was swift and hard. He died a short 74 days after being diagnosed and those 74 days were all filled with immense pain, hospital beds and him wasting away to a mere shell of himself. He literally begged God to take him and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t pray for the same. Watching someone you love suffer and die is not for the faint of heart. During those days, however, we were able to say all the things we wanted to. We had that time as a gift to forgive any wrongs and to express our love for one another unconditionally despite it all. I knew I had my dad’s approval that I was a good girl and he was so proud of who I truly was scars and all. Saying goodbye was so damn hard but in my heart was only love and no regrets for how we felt about one another.
In 2020, my mom was diagnosed with Alzheimers. While it was not a shock to me, the signs had been there for years, I had no idea the journey it would be. Looking back, I’m positive I have been losing her slowly for at least 7 years. Ambiguous loss is different but feels almost harder than the loss I experienced with my dad. The slow loss, first of the relationship you realize you didn’t hold dear enough and then onto her memories you realize you treasured more than you ever let on, is heart wrenching. Trust me, if your mom wants to tell you the same story over and over and over let her! Though I know my mom loved me unconditionally and supported me in so many big ways, this new person she has become without her memories feels less so.
Finding joy in this current relationship is the hardest work I’ve ever done. My mom has chosen my brother as her life line and chosen me as the enemy many days. When I arrive, she is skeptical about my intentions and it typically takes hours if not a full day for her to warm to me and this has dredged up some deep resentment I didn’t realize I had buried. If I allow myself to let go of resentment and the need for approval I will never receive, we can find some peace together. She reverts back to being my mom with sweet words and kisses goodnight. I remember the mom she was instead of the mom she now is and my heart heals a bit but I never stay there long.
As a mom myself, I know full well no matter how hard you try, you will scar your children. No one is perfect, not even moms and someday they will all need some therapy to undo any false narratives my imperfect parenting created for them. What I would hope is they will also have the positive memories to pull from, to recognize I did my best and loved them fully but to know they are ultimately in charge of their own joy. This is the journey I’m taking as I heal my memories from my past.