The more things change...

The more they stay the same.

I sent a pretty generic Mother's Day card from me and a card from C. I received a terse "thank you" email this morning. But, I also received... a forward.

Yep. She's sending me forwards again.

Something is going to change this time, however. Me.

Reponse

Sigh. I have to accept this. I received an email response from my mother:

Dear Calendula,

I forgave you the minute you walked out the door, on Thanksgiving Day.

I, too, have been praying for healing for our family everyday, as well as praying over you, R & C.

I have put my trust in God, and in His perfect timing, knowing that He alone knows each of our hearts. My prayer has been, and will continue to be until God calls me home, that our family will come to know healing and finally peace.

Thank you so much for your heartfelt, and prayer filled, email. It means more to me than you can imagine.

I've tried to tell you, all of your life, how much I love you.

I pray that someday you will come to know the depth of my love for you.

You are my child, my first born. I knew you, and loved and wanted you, from the moment you were conceived. I carried you under my heart for nine months, and when you were born you came out from under my heart and went into my heart.

I love you more than you will ever know.

Mom

Oh, and she cc'd both my father and my brother.

I am trying so very hard not to judge and, instead, to look at the plank in my own eye. The email spoke to my forgiveness, but of course did not once mention her wrongdoings or ask for forgiveness for her responsibility. And, the email said the same stuff that it always says. They're words. The same words.

My mother also called my cell phone while C and I were taking a nap. I plagued over whether to call her back. I finally decided that I would, at the least, call her and let her know that I knew that I had missed her call. I don't want to play games. Well, I get her on the phone and I tell her that I saw that she had called while C and I were napping (and I clearly sound like a frog, since I'm pretty ill right now) and she told me that it was an accident and she hit the wrong button. Seriously? In 5 months, she hasn't accidentally hit that button but hit it today of all days? I told her that I just wanted to call her back and that I had gotten her email. Her response was that she has always loved me and someday she hopes that I'll understand just how much. I simply responded that I did understand that. She then told me that she was in the grocery store, it probably wasn't the best place to talk and that she hadn't meant to call because she wanted to respect my space. I thanked her and said goodbye.

Silly me. Part of me hoped that, even though she just can't seem to accept that she is responsible for her own actions, she would still want to have a pleasant conversation and would want to talk with C. Nope.

I need to keep praying.

About Forgiveness

Forgiveness, as a Christian, is a funny thing. It is not something that comes naturally to any of us. That doesn't change simply because you know Christ. What does change, however, is that we change from being driven by our own thoughts and emotions and understanding (which we are told not to rely upon because they are unstable and easily influenced) to knowing that we must try to emulate Christ. Why? Because we have been commanded, in love, to do so. Forgiveness is a choice we make through a decision of our will, motivated by our obedience to God and his command to forgive. Why? The Bible instructs us to forgive as the Lord forgave us:

Colossians 3:13
Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.

Matthew 18:21-22
Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, "Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?" Jesus answered, "I tell you, not seven times, but seventy times seven times."

Luke 6:37
Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven.

Matthew 6:14-16
For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins

We are to forgive by faith, out of obedience. And, we trust God to do the rest. Isn't that hard? Yep. That's why it's called "faith". Anger doesn't go away, except with lots of prayer. Prayer for that person(s), prayer for ourselves. When we pray, we will begin to see that person as God sees them. He loves that person as much as He loves us, and none of us are without sin. It is not our place to judge that person for their sins. God tells us to drop our sins at his feet and he forgives our sins as far as the east is from the west. When we are tortured by something that we have already asked forgiveness for, He does not remember it. We are supposed to strive to do the same thing. I have been keeping a private blog as a dumping ground for those very things. When something tries to rear its ugly head again, I can go back to that blog and see that I have already written about it and have released it. No more anger over those things. That anger only hurts me.

Psalm 32:3-5
When I kept silent,
my bones wasted away
through my groaning all day long.
For day and night
your hand was heavy upon me;
my strength was sapped
as in the heat of summer.
Then I acknowledged my sin to you
and did not cover up my iniquity.
I said, "I will confess
my transgressions to the LORD"—
and you forgave
the guilt of my sin.

And, that's where I am. I decided to write an apology to my parents and brother. When I first told a close friend, she became angry for me. She wanted to know why I am always the one who reaches out. Why I always feel as if I have to "fix" things. Why I think that I need to apologize for anything? I explained that, for the first time, this was different. The other times, I was doing it for me. For approval. To heal discord. To mend a bridge for C. This time, I was doing it because this is what Christ requires of me. I must ask, with a pure heart, for forgiveness. Let's face it: I am not innocent in the things that happened on Thanksgiving. I could have walked away peacefully. No matter what they said or did (and no matter how wrong it was), I DID NOT HAVE TO REACT. But, I did. And now, I must atone for that to God. I must ask for forgiveness. What they do with that is up to them. They don't have to forgive me. In fact, I doubt that they will. But, I am only accountable to one place: my job is to do right by God.

Here is the letter:

Dear Dad, Mom and S:

I have been praying about this situation since it happened. First, I prayed for my anger to dissolve, so that I could respond with an open heart. Second, I prayed that God would give me the words and the timing to reveal my responsibility in all of this.

I wanted to write to all of you to let you know that I have been praying that God sets all of our hearts free from the anger, resentment and hurt and that I don't want you to think that I believe what happened on Thanksgiving was everyone's fault but my own. I realize that we are all responsible for our own actions, I did not have to choose to react and respond in the ways that I did and I am truly sorry for my actions and ask for all of you to forgive me.

Our church recently had a women's conference, with the topic being "agapao", or the unselfish and sacrifical love that God gives us and that we should try to emulate. 1 Corinthians 13 tends to be an overused scripture and was used during the conference, but what struck me was "it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs." I certainly have not been living up to that in my love for the three of you.

I am not ready for get togethers or discussions because I haven't quite figured out how to keep from getting offended when things happen regarding the lack of understanding or tolerance about C or our feelings about him, but I wanted to ask for your forgiveness in my part of what happened on Thanksgiving and now I'm trusting God to do the work in us that needs to be done so that the forgiveness will be complete.

I do love all of you.

Calendula

Had a FB conversation with T (psychologist friend) and wanted to post it here, so that I could remember and build upon it later.

T WROTE:

As far as the stuff about your parents, I still think that it is perfectly fine for you to choose not to have a relationship with them. I'm not sure if that's the validation you're looking for, but I woudn't let anyone tell you that you should be doing more or that you owe it to C to have them in your life or anything like that. I don't agree. As far as forgiveness for your own peace, and that sort of stuff, I really think the only one that knows what you need is YOU. I am all for prayer, and asking God for guidance. I agree that if you do chose to have contact with them again, keeping visits short is definitely the way to go. I am NOT one for the path of least resistance (I even hate the term), but I do think that you need to expect your parents to say/do things that may stir up strong feelings and that you can only control your reaction and that's probably the best way to go. I do think that you should continue to parent C the way you would if they weren't there, not try to "make C happy" so they don't feel the need to intervene .... consistency is incredibly important with any child, but it's particularly important with kids on the spectrum. If your parents try to intervene just tell them you'll handle it and ignore whatever they say after that.

I don't know if any of this helps. I'm still really POed at your parents for the whole Thanksgiving fiasco. If you can get past that, you're a better person than me! :-)

Counseling might help, although, like you said, it would probably take you months of sessions just to get through the background.

Why don't you start with this question: Knowing what you do about your parents, and the fact that they can only be who they are, do you really want them in your life, and if so, how? Or how much?

Well, I think that's all I have for tonight. I really need to go take some cough syrup and try to get to bed early.

I'll give you a call soon!

XOXO
T

Yeah, I have no idea what validation I'm actually looking for. LOL I think it is something between what you said about it being okay that I choose not to have a relationship with them combined with validation that what I've been through with them really IS dysfunctional and messed up. Sounds contrite and obvious, but I'm beginning to realize that I might as well have been brought up in a cult-like atmosphere and my brain is finally breaking free from it all, processing it. I wasn't allowed to dissent. Autonomy was frowned upon. The thought of becoming your own person and growing beyond their authority is unheard of and unspeakable, which is evidenced by the fact that I'm almost 39 and was still not entitled to my own opinions or methods of raising my own child. Annnnd, validation that all of that is incredibly abnormal and unhealthy! I know you're nodding your head saying, "yeah, yeah, yeah - of course it is" but my logical mind cannot seem to overcome the part of my mind that was brainwashed into thinking that I'm "bad" for going against this insanity. Throw in the whole "forgive seventy times seven" thing with God and I'm really messed up. I want to do the right thing, Christian-wise, but I'm not a fool, either.

My church is a very charismatic and pentecostal church, so people can tend to be "over the top", so to speak. That includes my pastor's wife. No, I don't think that *every*little*freaking*thing* is a "sign from God". Sometimes it's just life and earth and flesh and free will. No, I don't think that there was some almighty reason why God placed me in that situation with my parents, so that I would "learn" or "grow" or be able to "share". I believe that my parents abused their authority and that is their sin against God. BUT, I do believe that God gave me the strong will to cope through it. Otherwise, I would not be fighting the strongholds to this day. Now, the question is? What do I do with all of the baggage? Maybe I need to just start writing my own private (viewable to me and only me) journal/blog to release this stuff. And, maybe that's what I'm supposed to do with it. Like you said, we're talking months and months of background sessions if I talk to someone.

Your question was a good one: Do I really want them in my life and if so, how? Or how much? The answer is NOT AT ALL. There is so much less stress without them in my life. And, they won't be changing so that means that, if I allow them even the slightest entry into my life, the stress returns. You said, " you need to expect your parents to say/do things that may stir up strong feelings and that you can only control your reaction and that's probably the best way to go." That was actually the catalyst of Thanksgiving. I could no longer control my reaction to the strong feelings that they stir up. And, I didn't think that I deserved to torture myself with that anymore, either. :-/

Do I wish that I had parents in my life? Yes. But, not the ones that I have. Not the ones that are cynical and combative and passive/aggressive and judgmental and disapproving. I want supportive, accepting, nurturing, understanding parents. But, I don't have a set of those. That's like wishing that I had green eyes. I can look in the mirror at my brown eyes every day and wish that they were green, but they're not going to magically change any more than my parents will suddenly have an epiphany about how they should treat their offspring with love and respect.

Most of all, they just make me feel bad about myself! If one of them aren't bringing up something from the past that is condemning, they are making snide comments about C or how we raise (or don't raise) C or how we choose to live our lives. Anything from how C doesn't eat what/when we do to how we spend our weekends to what I do and don't have him involved in, you name it. My father compares my mothering to my own mother. He even went so far as to mention my clothing at one point and I said that I'm a stay at home mom and I live in jeans. R and I still joke about this comment, but it still cut deep. He said something like, "Well, your mother was never like that. She was always dressed to the nines." Uh, not when she had small children she wasn't. In fact, looking at the photo albums? She almost always had on jeans, a polyester shirt and a scarf on her head. At least I do my frickin' hair.

Make sure you give me a call this weekend so that you can spill about the stuff with J. And, THANK YOU for being angry for me about what happened at Thanksgiving. That, in and of itself, is validating.

xoxo

The List

Since my run with R, my head has been swimming. She said that I needed to list the offenses, so that I could move beyond them. I have a feeling that this is going to be a really long and ongoing list. And, I'm not sure how to move beyond them. In fact, I'm not even sure how to write them. But, here goes.

1. My father hitting me with the belt, up until the time I left home at 18. I was going to write "over the smallest thing", but as a mother, I can't fathom anything that could have warranted being hit with a belt. C exasperates me but the thought of hitting him in anger and/or with a belt? It makes me want to vomit.
2. The one time, in particular, when he hit me with the belt and chased me up the stairs. After barricading my door with my dresser, he broke through the door and continued to hit me as I tried to climb under the bed.
3. The other memorable time where he kept hitting me in the study, as I told him that I was not afraid of him and to hit me if it made him feel like a man. This is the only time that I remember my mother stepping in to stop the violence.
4. Raising me in fear of the belt. Backtalk was handled with the belt. Disobeying was handled with the belt. Getting angry about a situation was handled with the belt.
5. The fact that my mother never protected me, though she swears that she did. If she had, then the violence should have stopped. I think she was in fear that it would be turned on her.
6. Speaking of, I remember when I had stitches in my knee and my parents were fighting over something. My father grabbed my mother by the neck and cornered her in between the sink & butcher block. I punched him in the arm and pushed him, telling him to get off of her. He kicked me in the knee with the stitches.
7. The horrible way that he treated me when we went on the vacation to Virginia (15 years old?) and I had bronchitis. I couldn't stop coughing, which pissed him off. Then, when I would take the cough medicine, it would make me vomit. (I later found out that codeine makes me vomit and this was why) He swore that I was throwing up for attention (because everyone likes to puke, right?) We were in the hotel room, I started coughing and realized that I was going to throw up, so I jumped up and ran to the bathroom. As I came out, my brother saw me and asked me if I had just thrown up. Petrified, I asked him not to tell Dad. He heard the conversation and threw a shoe at me from across the room, which hit the wall and put a hole in the hotel room wall.
8. The incident with the black eye from my mother. I left in the late morning on the day before my junior year of high school to go to lunch with friends and didn't call all day. I came home by curfew at 10:00 pm and my parents were worried sick and angry about it. I caught a teenage attitude because I was home in time and was still in trouble, not understanding their concern from not checking in. We verbally argued and my mother jumped up and came after me. I stood up to defend myself, my father stood in between us. My mother reached over him and punched me in the face. I fell back in the chair and my father pushed my mother back across the room. As soon as she was sitting, I got up and looked at my eye in the bathroom. It was already purple within those short minutes and swollen shut. I went to the fridge, got ice and sat back down. My mother sneered that I was a faker and wanted to see my eye. I lowered the ice and she began to bawl that she was so sorry and crawled across the room to me. I didn't even know what I was supposed to do with that. We then had to sit and discuss the lie that I was going to tell about my eye. I was humiliated at starting my junior year with a black eye from my mother, and supposed to tell a lie that I walked into a door. I told a close friend and she went to my principal. I was called into the office, asked to tell the story (and had to tell the lie). My parents were called into the school and they, too, told the lie. Because it was more than 20 years ago and they didn't do the research that they do now, it was let go. To this day, my mother has convinced herself that she caught me with her ring (when she wore no rings on her right hand) and that I just bruise easily.
9. The withholding of love as a punishment. When they were angry with me, they wouldn't talk to me for days other than things like, "Pick up your backpack" or "We're taking your brother to soccer". I remember my 17th birthday like it happened yesterday. They wanted to have a family dinner. I wanted to go with a friend to the dance marathon. I was allowed to go, but was punished for it by returning home to silence. There was a card and a present on the counter for me when I walked in the door. They did not get up from the living room. I opened the present and it was a camera. I thanked them for the present and my mother looked up from her magazine and said, "Well, you're spending so much time with your friends, we figured that you'd want to take pictures of them." That was it for a birthday acknowledgment of my 17th.
10. The time I was caught sneaking alcohol out of the house for a birthday party. They decided to "teach me a lesson" by making me drink to get drunk and sick. The three of us sat at the table and they goaded me in between the times that they would tell me when to take a drink. After two drinks like this (an old fashioned and a gin and tonic), my father said sing-songy, "Let's see. I think I'll make you a manhattan now." He placed it in front of me and told me to take a drink. I was already tired of the dysfunctional punishment and downed the drink in one gulp. As I put the drink down, my father backhanded me across the face. I laughed because the entire thing was insane. They then sent me to my room. I was 17.
11. After I was sent to my room, they came barging in about 20 minutes later and "tossed" my room as if I was a jail prisoner. I'm not sure what they were looking for, since I had already given them the alcohol. My mother found my diary. She stood there and read parts of it out loud, mocking me. I stood there in silence. She then confiscated it for a week. When she gave it back, she apologized that she never should have taken it or read it. Not sure how that was supposed to change anything. I never wrote it my diary again. I wasn't going to take a chance that she would look for it and read it.
12. I was dating a guy who was bad news at the end of my senior year. He lived 30 minutes away. I had never been allowed to get my license, though my parents will swear that I showed no interest. In reality, they took me out for one lesson. If I had no interest, I suppose that I wouldn't have gotten it on my own two weeks after I left home. How did I leave home? Because I had no license, I got stranded at my boyfriend's house when his father had to work late. I called to tell my father that I had no way to get home. He scoffed, "Have fun." and hung up on me. When I finally got a ride home the next day, my parents gave me an ultimatum to break up with him or to get out by noon in two days. I was a teenager, so I just couldn't imagine breaking up with him. Besides, home wasn't exactly a pleasant place to be and I tried to be away from it as much as possible. On the day that I was supposed to be out, I asked if I could stay until 3:00, when I could get a ride. My mother said no. So, I had to walk on the highway. After 2 miles in, I was asked if I needed a ride. I accepted it and, fortunately, arrived unscathed. I still struggle with the fact that, due to my parents' mentality of "tough love", I could be dead because of my naivety.
13. I don't remember particular arguments, but my mother's mo was to slap across the face and yank my hair by the scalp. This, of course, came back into play in the argument on Thanksgiving 2008 when she didn't like that I confronted her about kicking both of her kids out of the house and she ran after me and grabbed my entire head of hair... at 38 years old.

That's all I'm going to write for now.

Passive aggressiveness at its best

In the box of C's Christmas presents from my parents were two books. I pulled the books for a couple of reasons. First of all, C would have cared less about them. Second, they would be of absolutely no relevance to C. Third? Judge for yourself.

R and I laughed out loud when we saw them. I think you can actually hear me say on the Christmas video, "What a joke."

Silence is golden?

Well, I knew it was going to happen but it still bothers me. A package from my parents was left on my doorstep via UPS for C. The presents are all wrapped inside the box, so I don't know what they bought him. And, of course, no note.

I had already decided that sending back the package, once it eventually arrived, would be taken as a message of spite. I have always, always, been the one to reach out and try to mend fences. Since I have no desire to mend the fence for myself or for C, I decided that the best message to send is... nothing. Silence.

I will give C their presents and hope that he doesn't ask where they are. The thought alone breaks my heart. I honestly wish that they would just go away.