Abandonment Recovery Community Group
Surviving through and recovering from abandonment can be a new beginning of life and love. Abandonment can produce one of our most primal fears, one that can can mark us the rest of our lives. In the midst of our pain, it's nearly impossible to see an end of our feelings of rejection, shame, and betrayal. Those who struggle with his battle please join the Abandonment...
I journaled this, but I thought I'd share it here also. Afterall, it's why I'm part of the group. Regarding my mother's mental illness:
My Mom: She became ill in my lifetime. They say when I was about four years old. I have many memories of her even before then. She took care of me; my dad didnât. She was actually a very loving person and a good mother. Everyone has always spoken very highly of her as a mother prior to her âbecoming ill.â I was very safe and bonded with mom. I remember going on walks with her, her holding me, helping her clean the house, riding around in the car with her⦠She didnât use drugs, she didnât drink; she smoked cigarettes. She liked gardening; I used to pick her flowers and read her stories I wrote, and showed her the pictures I drew. She was supportive of me and appreciated me. My sisters were gymnasts (I was too for a while); she knew I liked the outdoors, so she got me into Girl Scouts; I liked to draw and she put me in an art class. We baked cookies at Christmas time and always decorated the house. She organized birthday parties, kept a baby book for me⦠I spent time with her in the days before I went to school and during those years, it was just her and I. My dad worked and my siblings were at school. Those times were good times and I never saw anything wrong with her. She was a good mom.
Itâs true that when I became school aged, things started to change. I donât remember exactly when things changed. There was a lot of agreeing in my home; my dad and my mom fighting. My aunt mentioned that my dad started to work from home around that time; things escalated. My mom may have had an affair and that caused a lot of problems. She wanted to leave my dad. I think he became more abusive then; taking control. I would hide when they argued, Iâd hide and cry, so I donât really remember a lot of the words that were exchanged. I do remember a fight when she said to him, âyou raped me!â She was angry and crying. She didnât want him sexually during those times and he forced himself on her showing her that she was his to use as he pleased. I think I have some recollection of him raping her in the kitchen (a couple times). He raped her in front of her children. It destroyed her. She really hated him and thatâs about the time when I started hating him too.
She was disgusted and every time he came around she was angry. I think she actually did try to go to her parents for help, but she was so ashamed. They were these wonderful people, happily married, raised her well⦠She was too ashamed to tell them the details of what he did to her. I think her dad kept telling her to go back and make the marriage work.
One time she left and went to a campground where we had a pop-up camper. She was staying there and my dad took us with him to go get her. He put her into a mental hospital. Her mom stayed in our home and helped take care of us for a bit. Perhaps somewhere in all of my confusion she did have a mental breakdown. When she came home everything was different; all of a sudden she was the ill person.
That was the start of a seriously painful psycho-drama. I wanted my mom! She said that she was not ill and I believed every word of it. I was on her side 100%. She flushed her pills, she argued with her parents, she told my dad what a sick man he was. I remember some of those arguments; she stated with very strong conviction, âI am not ill! You the sick one!â You #^*@^#@. She said he was brainwashing her children; trying to turn us away from her and now she could not leave; not with us. He found a way to keep her kids from her. She was not mentally capable of caring for her childrenâ¦. No one believed anything she said anymore. They started to try to distance me from her; saying, momâs sick⦠I felt her pain; I remember her pain and her anger. It was so devastating.
Then there was the shock therapy. After that she was quiet and stayed on the couch. She picked her eyebrows until she had none. She just sat there and I sat there on the floor in front of her and would try to talk to her every day as soon as I got home from school. She didnât have much to say anymore. She didnât fight anymore. She did some things, but she checked out mentally and she never did come back.
It wasnât long after that when she went to live with her parents. Then she left Ohio completely. She has connected with family briefly a few times throughout my life. Itâs been nearly ten years since there has been any contact.
I have always wanted to help her. I longed to do so for years. I didnât see or hear from her for about five years (8-13). At thirteen she came home briefly and I thought it was the answer to all of my prayers. (I prayed every night she was gone; I asked God to make her well and bring her home). I thought that was what was going to happen. I saw her and I hugged her and I cried⦠She showed no emotion and when I called her the next day on the phone she said to me, âyou arenât going to start bawling again, are you?â She was so calloused; so cold.
I guess it was at that point that I decided that dad was right after all. Mom was sick and I should not try to be close to her because she would only hurt me; she couldnât help it. She was no longer the same person she once was. It broke my heart something awful and changed everything for me.
My Mom: She became ill in my lifetime. They say when I was about four years old. I have many memories of her even before then. She took care of me; my dad didnât. She was actually a very loving person and a good mother. Everyone has always spoken very highly of her as a mother prior to her âbecoming ill.â I was very safe and bonded with mom. I remember going on walks with her, her holding me, helping her clean the house, riding around in the car with her⦠She didnât use drugs, she didnât drink; she smoked cigarettes. She liked gardening; I used to pick her flowers and read her stories I wrote, and showed her the pictures I drew. She was supportive of me and appreciated me. My sisters were gymnasts (I was too for a while); she knew I liked the outdoors, so she got me into Girl Scouts; I liked to draw and she put me in an art class. We baked cookies at Christmas time and always decorated the house. She organized birthday parties, kept a baby book for me⦠I spent time with her in the days before I went to school and during those years, it was just her and I. My dad worked and my siblings were at school. Those times were good times and I never saw anything wrong with her. She was a good mom.
Itâs true that when I became school aged, things started to change. I donât remember exactly when things changed. There was a lot of agreeing in my home; my dad and my mom fighting. My aunt mentioned that my dad started to work from home around that time; things escalated. My mom may have had an affair and that caused a lot of problems. She wanted to leave my dad. I think he became more abusive then; taking control. I would hide when they argued, Iâd hide and cry, so I donât really remember a lot of the words that were exchanged. I do remember a fight when she said to him, âyou raped me!â She was angry and crying. She didnât want him sexually during those times and he forced himself on her showing her that she was his to use as he pleased. I think I have some recollection of him raping her in the kitchen (a couple times). He raped her in front of her children. It destroyed her. She really hated him and thatâs about the time when I started hating him too.
She was disgusted and every time he came around she was angry. I think she actually did try to go to her parents for help, but she was so ashamed. They were these wonderful people, happily married, raised her well⦠She was too ashamed to tell them the details of what he did to her. I think her dad kept telling her to go back and make the marriage work.
One time she left and went to a campground where we had a pop-up camper. She was staying there and my dad took us with him to go get her. He put her into a mental hospital. Her mom stayed in our home and helped take care of us for a bit. Perhaps somewhere in all of my confusion she did have a mental breakdown. When she came home everything was different; all of a sudden she was the ill person.
That was the start of a seriously painful psycho-drama. I wanted my mom! She said that she was not ill and I believed every word of it. I was on her side 100%. She flushed her pills, she argued with her parents, she told my dad what a sick man he was. I remember some of those arguments; she stated with very strong conviction, âI am not ill! You the sick one!â You #^*@^#@. She said he was brainwashing her children; trying to turn us away from her and now she could not leave; not with us. He found a way to keep her kids from her. She was not mentally capable of caring for her childrenâ¦. No one believed anything she said anymore. They started to try to distance me from her; saying, momâs sick⦠I felt her pain; I remember her pain and her anger. It was so devastating.
Then there was the shock therapy. After that she was quiet and stayed on the couch. She picked her eyebrows until she had none. She just sat there and I sat there on the floor in front of her and would try to talk to her every day as soon as I got home from school. She didnât have much to say anymore. She didnât fight anymore. She did some things, but she checked out mentally and she never did come back.
It wasnât long after that when she went to live with her parents. Then she left Ohio completely. She has connected with family briefly a few times throughout my life. Itâs been nearly ten years since there has been any contact.
I have always wanted to help her. I longed to do so for years. I didnât see or hear from her for about five years (8-13). At thirteen she came home briefly and I thought it was the answer to all of my prayers. (I prayed every night she was gone; I asked God to make her well and bring her home). I thought that was what was going to happen. I saw her and I hugged her and I cried⦠She showed no emotion and when I called her the next day on the phone she said to me, âyou arenât going to start bawling again, are you?â She was so calloused; so cold.
I guess it was at that point that I decided that dad was right after all. Mom was sick and I should not try to be close to her because she would only hurt me; she couldnât help it. She was no longer the same person she once was. It broke my heart something awful and changed everything for me.
We are physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually unable to cope or understand. How dare parents put us children in such a situation. I do believe that your mother was caring and loving to you like you said before she was sick. Domestic violence can lead to abandonment for the entire family. Back in the 50s and 60s no one ever talked about it. Sorry if Iâm wrong on the dates, Iâm guessing. Even today a % domestic violence cases are still tucked under the rug. I want to thank you for sharing and please continue to share. I believe it helps us all to open up to one another.
We are physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually unable to cope or understand. How dare parents put us children in such a situation. I do believe that your mother was caring and loving to you like you said before she was sick. Domestic violence can lead to abandonment for the entire family. Back in the 60s and 70s no one ever talked about it. Sorry if Im wrong on the dates, Im guessing. Even today a % domestic violence cases are still tucked under the rug. For you it was the loss of your mother, and the abuse by your father. Once again the abuse fills the void left by abandonment. I want to thank you for sharing and please continue to share. I believe it helps us all to open up to one another. Please feel free to message me if you need a friend to talk to. HUGS
My mom on the other hand, that’s a sad story to this day. No, she never experienced any kind of recovery. She lives off a social security check and has spent many years living on the streets. I think she may have become an alcoholic as well. There were a few of times she came back around to see us (I assume it was for us), but there was always trouble. One time she stayed with her parents. Her dad was going to help her get an apartment, but when she found one she wanted to look at, he had her to wait on it… She got angry (I don’t think she was having an easy time living with them), and she ended up telling my grandfather that my grandmother cheated on him when she was a kid… She started a bunch of drama; then she stole some money and disappeared. She had a hard time because her parents had a really strong marriage; her brother also had the picture perfect family. She married a monster, was too ashamed to reveal the entire truth about that and was expected be the good wife and make it work.
The next time she tried to come around my aunt and brother tried to have her committed because they figured she was getting too old to live on the streets. She was released and split. She also came back when I was eighteen. I drove her all around helping her to find a place to stay. We went to some agency who helped to provide housing, it would usually take a long time, but I was there with her insisting that my mother needed a place to stay and that I was going to be homeless with her until someone helped her. I was crying and the woman I spoke with got on the phone with the head of the agency who just so happened to by my mom’s former psychologist. He got on the phone with me and told me he would get her a place and he did.
I spent some time with her then. We shopped for things to put in her place. It’s ironic, I was planning on going out to CA to find her when I got out of high school. It was already planned when she came home, and I ended up taking the trip anyway, then I decided to move in with my aunt in the bay area. There my mom was finally in Ohio, and I went to CA. I was getting the hell away from my dad and my life. This time I was the one running. Anyway, I came back at Christmas to visit her and when my brother went up to her place, she opened the door and said it was not a good time. We went back the next day and she had split again; the room was trashed. It was very disappointing.
Since then, she did come back around once; she said she had an “allergy” to electricity. I think it’s the way the shock therapy affected her; it traumatized her. Anyway, she says she cannot talk on the phone or be near anything electrical. She was actually living in a cabin in the woods with no electricity. While in Ohio she stayed in a motel and she had unplugged everything. My sister went to see her and she said that she was dying (from the electricity thing). It’s so sad. That was like nine years ago and no one has heard from her since.
I know she is still living, because there is no death record on file with the SSA. I’ve written her a couple of letters (one recently); the SSA will forward them to her. She does not respond. I wish that there was something I could do for her. It would do me so much good to see her. To really see HER, the mother I lost so long ago, even if only for a moment. I just hate for her to live the rest of her life this way and leave the world without ever making peace with her children who love her so much, but I don’t think I can do anything to help her or to change the situation. God knows I would.
He used her illness against her, the drugs, the hospitals, the shock therapy. I truly believe it was more about controlling and punishing her than trying to help her and even if it wasn’t, that is what she felt was happening and so the affect was the same. Of course she could not accept these treatments that may have otherwise helped; HE was forcing it on her. It traumatized her and she could only have her freedom by running. Yet, she left her children, which she loved more than life itself…. Yes, I think it killed her inside; the guilt, the sadness and yet she did try to come back those few times, only to subject herself to more judging. She looked negligent while my dad looked like the heroic single father. It’s extremely unjust and very sad.
It had been some time since I tried to reach out to her. I was actually telling myself, she didn’t love her children…. When the memories of my dad’s abuse resurfaced; I also recalled the psycho-drama. I remembered all that she went though and I wanted to try to reach out to her once more, but, since there was no response, I suppose there is nothing I can do. It’s one of those things I have a hard time accepting though….
How am I? Well, I thought I was just fine; that I’d moved on with my life, that I was strong enough to handle anything…. But, then one day I realized that it still impacts me in major ways and that I never dealt with this properly. So, here I am so many years later trying to deal with it correctly. I think I’m making some progress; at least I see it all more clearly. I understand that she had no choice. I know that she loved me and I accept that she is ill. That’s something. I sure would feel better if she were to have some measure of peace and healing though.