Third Year


This happened. We’ve turned over another year from my diagnosis and the beginning of my treatment. I’m worlds better than I used to be, but I feel like I’ve hit a plateau.

We’re starting to get into the heavy stuff of my childhood and relationship with my  mom and it’s a place my mind just doesn’t want to go. I’ve had this assignment from my therapist for a month to write a “letter” to my mom so we can start working on my issues with her and nothing is coming to mind. Literally nothing. I sit there with my word processor open and stare at the cursor for an hour or two every day while the kids are napping and/or other wise occupied. Yet nothing comes to mind.

As far as I’m concerned if my mom dropped dead tomorrow, I wouldn’t shed a tear. I have nothing I want to say to her, nothing I feel that needs to be said. Literally nothing, and apparently that’s a big deal. There are only two people in my entire life who’ve reached this level of Kelli’s Indifference. Both of them inflicted the same type of psychological abuse on me and kept me wrapped up in a web of emotional uncertainly, aaaaaaaaaaaand both of them are women. I have more compassion for a stranger on the street than I do for these women.

Which is healthy in one instance where I don’t have to interact with the one, but unacceptable for some reason clear to only my therapist when it comes to my mother. The go to healing process when dealing with a narcissist is to go no contact, to cut them off completely, don’t feed the bear so to speak. That’s what works, but for some reason with my mom I need to maintain a healthy distance but also maintain a connection to promote over all healing. It’s always mothers… Always mothers who screw up the kids. Lol.

My therapist is all like: “well we don’t want you to have any guilt or regret when she passes away later in life so we need to deal with this now.”

And I’m all like: “trust me, there is no guilt or regret to be had anywhere in never speaking to my mom ever again. Even within the context of a letter she’ll never see. The ship sailed, crashed in a firey explosion on a sand bar, and I’m perfectly content with the way things turned out.”

To which I received a knowing, slightly patronizing: “Mm hmm… Well you need to do this letter anyway.”

This is the only thing I’ve had an issue with during my course of treatment. Everything else my therapist has suggested I’ve gladly listened and implemented within my life, but I’m having a really hard time with this one. I guess it’s because after 30yrs of dealing with life one way, no matter how hellish it might be, it’s more difficult to change than it is to endure… Or some other psychoanalysty way to say that. Lol.

Bleeeeeeeeeeerg… Eventually the egg will crack and I’ll keep moving forward. I just have to mull around on this one for a while I guess.