My mother is battling a serious health issue and is apparently at the ending stage of her life. Maybe I’ve grown immune in some way, and maybe I’ve been no-contact from her for so long that I no longer care.
I doubt this though. I seriously doubt that I no longer care about her. In fact, I love her dearly, and that’s the complexity of being no-contact from her. However, I have learned that in an effort to remain mentally healthy and safe, there are doors that I must keep closed to even the people I love.
For my own sake, I dare not open that door to my mother again … at least not right now. Even if it means that I will never see my mother alive again, at least I have stood my ground and enforced boundaries against her narcissistic abuse.
To anyone who doesn’t understand the complexities of the effects of narcissistic abuse, then what I’m saying might seem very heartless. On some level, I guess it really is … for who would abandon their own mother when she might be dying, right?
Yet, I’ve not abandoned my mother at all. I’ve left her in the hands of a Most High God who sees all and can help her and deal with her in better ways than I ever could. It’s not an excuse; it’s just what is and will be. I wish my dad could understand that, but maybe he doesn’t want to for my sake.
When I heard the tone in his voice during a phone call, I knew he was concerned for me. He seemed concerned that I was lost and that I’d miss out on the remaining days that my mother has in this life. He seemed concerned that I might be risking my own salvation for unforgiveness.
Yet, my stance of no-contact has nothing to do with unforgiveness. I have forgiven my mother, and I continue to forgive instances of abuse that come to mind, but it doesn’t mean I need to erode my boundaries to have her continue to abuse me again and again.
Nevertheless, I come back to this – my dad’s quest for me to end my no-contact. That alone would seemingly make things good in his eyes, perhaps. Perhaps it’s more about me seeing him too since I have been limiting contact with him as well. I don’t know.
Although I hope not to live in any regret, I can’t control what happens. I am doubtful of regret when my stance is and has been so strong, but again, I can’t control what happens with anybody else. I don’t even want to control anybody else.
Throughout my dad’s talk about my mother, I remained silent. As unphased as I felt in the moments of his discussion, I felt incredibly spent as this is a complex and emotionally draining situation.
It seems that my dad has no comprehension of the weight of his and my mother’s narcissistic abuses against my siblings and me. Even now, it would seem that my feelings to maintain no-contact with my mother or even limited contact with him are not even valid.
My siblings and I are now adults, and we should be over the past … at least that’s how my mother feels. My dad has come to see how his and my mother’s abuses have affected the lives of my siblings’ and mine at least.
To be honest, I’ve considered the impact of both reopening and keeping the door closed to my mother. In fact, I’ve assessed every possible angle.
Narcissistic abuse leaves deep scars, and while my dad is urging me to reconnect out of fear I will have regrets, I still see the importance of acknowledging my emotional well-being in all this.
I’ve traveled the road of possibly losing both my parents, and even though that stage for neither of them has come yet, I already know what it is like to live my life without them.
As harsh as this may seem to any reader, I’ve chosen to set and maintain boundaries for a reason. Even in the most difficult moments, such as enduring this phone call with my dad, I’ve done the work to protect myself.
It’s been a lot of hard work. If anyone understands, it takes a lot more than just keeping silent to endure no-contact with people I love.
Unfortunately, my mother hasn’t shown any signs of change after my nearly a decade of no-contact. This merely reinforces my decision to remain as I am when I know that interacting with her would likely reopen old wounds.
Reopening old wounds has nothing to do with my ability to forgive. It has more to do with me reliving pain that my mother refuses to acknowledge or take accountability for.
I want to continue to prioritize my peace and healing, and opening a door that only rehashes what I’m trying to heal from does me no good.
Frankly, I don’t owe anyone an explanation of what I choose to do, and for that reason, I chose to keep my silence during my dad’s conversation with me.
I was not reacting with selective mutism. I wasn’t frozen into place. I simply had nothing to say. I felt tired and done with talking about it. I had talked for years, but neither of my parents would listen.
Instead, both my parents gaslighted me and urged me to stop living in the past. Perhaps part of being a victim of abuse is living with the scars of the past and replaying the past of events over and over.
In a sense, I suppose that is living in the past, but sadly, that past in some instances was never even acknowledged for me. My version of the history I lived doesn’t seem to always match what my parents even remember. They were keen to leave out the most crucial parts that my heart held onto.
So, there’s no sense in continuing to explain myself when my explanations never seem to get through to either of my parents. To them, it would just seem like I’m attempting to rehash the past and pick a fight.
It’s not worth my peace to make a big deal out of something that isn’t a big deal to the people that were responsible for the issues in the first place.
Although my dad’s perspective might have been coming from a place of concern, I believe that he might not fully understand the emotional and psychological toll narcissistic abuse has taken upon my life and my psyche.
While my dad fears I’ll have regrets for not re-establishing contact with my mother during her illness, it’s more likely that I’ll more likely regret re-entering a toxic dynamic that caused me tremendous harm.
Sometimes silence, as I demonstrated during my dad’s conversation, is a way of holding firm in my boundaries without needing to justify them to others.
Choosing to remain silence without giving a response to something I don’t agree with speaks enough volume, and I believe my dad heard me loud and clear.
As I navigate these complicated feelings, it’s helpful to remind myself that I am not obligated to make choices that harm my emotional well-being, even in the face of significant pressure.
Should my mother pass, I can process my emotions on my own terms just as I have done much of my life.
I don’t need to force myself into a situation that doesn’t serve me, especially when it’s about protecting my inner peace.
I love my mother, and even as I type this with tears in my eyes, I still believe that I need to maintain my boundaries of no-contact.
So it shall be until I am certain that I know to do otherwise …
My Voice Unchained 