I saw a quote my mom had posted on Facebook. It said, “Healing doesn’t mean the damage never existed…” Wow, I thought. She thinks she is healing from ME. She genuinely thinks I hate her. That I walked out of her life because she was abusive towards me years ago. That I have maliciously ripped her grandchildren from within her reach out of some sort of grudge. I think of her now, so trapped in stories. The first is the story she cannot see, that tells her she is unlovable at her core. The second is the story that I abandoned her.

The truth is that she was abandoned at some point, but not by me. Years ago, in a time she admittedly can’t remember, her own parents abandoned their little girl. No, they didn’t neglect her physically but her spirit, her soul, was denied. I wish she could heal from that wound but she doesn’t even realize it’s there. I wish my love could wrap its warmth around her core until the holes in her heart were filled.

That little girl that suffered long ago is still buried within her chest. And she rages at everyone around her. She screams, “NO. My story is that I am unloved and I will do everything in my power to keep it that way!” It’s how I know my mom is not safe for me or my children to be around. She doesn’t just play the victim. She inflicts harm and THEN plays the victim. She punches you and then cries.

Oh how I wish she would see that story, the one that casts the play before her eyes so that her core belief becomes a reality. I never imagined that my own mother wouldn’t be in my children’s lives. But she does not want me in her life. She truly believes she is a victim and she would always do something to MAKE it so. So in her mind she IS healing from a daughter who abandoned her. A daughter who hates. A daughter who doesn’t forgive. She looked at me once and said that I had ripped out her heart. For asking for kindness. For pointing out that she was often cruel as I was growing up. And so it is. Her storyteller is so strong she has become the narrator, the director, and the actor. She embodies it fully. I weep for her. But there is nothing more I can do.