Families are revisionists of the narrative of shared experiences. Does it mean that people are lying? In some cases, it is astounding yes. In other cases, the experiences are too powerfully painful, people use deflection and denial. Family members can experience the same experience in the same place and time, and each family member may have different accounting and outcomes from the experience.
Narrative therapy techniques were always the tools I used in the field. We all have stories within us to tell ourselves and ours. It is our brokenness that makes us human, however, brokenness is not the sum of us. Nor does it define it.
My broken relationship with my mother is the result of generational trauma, both hers and mine. I knew from a young age our family was not like other families. I instinctively knew that our family was not healthy. My mother didn't care for me as other mothers cared for my classmates. Imagine going from my great-grandmother's home where I was immaculately groomed, wore nice clothing, and was adored and respected. I was LOVED THERE. All of my needs were taken care of. I was transferred to a poverty-stricken home run by adults whose needs were so obviously larger than my needs.
The trauma that created the mother that I was given was when her father committed suicide. She was not aware of his actions until she was an adult. Her mother left her and her sibling to live with my great-grandmother for over 8 years. I believe her mother's actions made it very easy for her to abandon me for nearly the same amount of time. Abandonment was as easy for my sibling to do the same. Another level of toxicity that has been carried from mother to daughter was toxic femininity. My mother's mother valued beauty, and my mother learned to hate it. I am sure that living with a Vietnam vet who had PTSD didn't help.
Why you may ask why do I live a different narrative? Well, I made an active decision to be different. It was a powerful act of will to be different. I went to therapy early(yes, my mother has had individual therapy) and worked on my trauma. I brought her in to listen and not blame her, she blamed everything on my father. My mother will not take any responsibility. Her retort was she was a good mother. No, she was not a good mother. She was not a loving mother. My mother was a taker, and she still is. A parent who is emotionally immature, who is unable to see past their own needs is not an effective, nor a loving parent.
The reframing of my narrative is my parents were broken, damaged people who should not have stayed together. I was blessed with having spent my first 7 years with my loving great-grandmother. I spent summers with her until she died.
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