Changing

I stood with my therapist, in tears. Across from me, an empty chair. She had asked me to speak to the chair as if my mother was there, listening. I was struck by the idea that talking to this empty space in this chair wasn’t any different than trying to talk to my mother when she is present, and that ushered forth a wave of sorrow, followed by a wave of understanding. My mother has bipolar disorder, and has likely had it for my entire life. My seemingly “normal” childhood was actually a time of tremendous instability and little acceptance and affection. And now, after spending weeks delving into the depths of this primary relationship, and the ways it has created particular responses within me, I am starting to see the big picture a little more clearly. The voices inside my mother’s head never stop, they pull her in a thousand directions. She has no filter, no boundaries. Whatever comes through her mind comes out her mouth. Up down up down. Joy, hatred, anger, judgment. Round and round. It is this way now, and it was this way then. While my basic needs were provided for, and I was rarely physically abused, I am coming to see that there never was a time of true emotional safety. There was never any true intimacy. There was never a sense given to me that I was accepted and loved just as I was, and that nothing I could do would ever change that. There were no boundaries, no privacy, no personal space - my mother would say anything to anyone, even things shared in confidence. There was emotional chaos pretty much all the time. I have always been a sensitive being, and there were times when I would get sick from all the chaos. I would be rushed to the doctor because I couldn’t stop throwing up, and the diagnosis was always the same - nerves.

I learned coping mechanisms. Two have been particularly strong in my life. First, escape. If there is noplace that is sacred or safe, then I need to go somewhere else, to flee, to leave the room, to leave the country, or to leave my body, just keep moving. The second is striving, trying, accomplishment. I see the little girl perspective so strongly in this - maybe if I do well enough, get enough awards and attention from others, become the most incredible musician, accomplish the most incredible things, just maybe then I will be loved and accepted. Just maybe then I will deserve to be loved and accepted. Maybe. This second one is very much alive in my life right now, and is the thing that I have written about previously. I am now beginning to see where these deeply entrenched feelings of being worthless have come from. If I was given my life by my mother, and then, somehow I wasn’t acceptable enough, not worth listening to or loving, not good enough, I would need to do something really big to earn this life. Maybe I could convince her otherwise. I have been trying, unconsciously, ever since.


I have a deep need for stability and safety in my life. I hate feeling hurried, and get caught up in emotional turmoil when it seems like people don’t have enough time for me. I really hold off on revealing the truth of who I am until I feel an undeniable sense of trust and acceptance from others. Life in general tends not to offer these things, and I have tended to retreat and withdraw as a result. I have lived in a cocoon, throwing myself into one endeavor after the next, working to become the most perfect, most lovable, most incredible person I am capable of becoming. I have achieved worldly success. I have drawn close to me an array of wonderful people, spanning six continents, who have reflected back to me all that is good and whole and worthy within me. And I have still continued to search, since I have yet to find solace in the company of my mother. It has come in glimmers, just occasionally, but never for long. And I am starting to see that I may never get that. She is mentally ill. She may not be capable of giving me the very things that the little girl inside of me has been desperately searching for.

Now, healing comes. Every day, more insight fills me. I have made the space in my daily life to really go into this process. My life has offered me this intense time of breaking down so that I can release all that does not serve. I have support in my life, I have friends who love me no matter what, who will listen to anything, who accept me exactly as I am any day of the week. Now, I must learn to see these old patterns when they emerge, and see them for what they are. Slowly, lovingly, I can let them go.