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Re: Bits 'n Pieces...

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Hi Edith,

I can so relate to this part of your post. My uncle was here a couple of months

ago and he commented that I had been taking care of my mother since I was 8

years old. I was shocked that anyone else had ever seen it. My mother takes

many different types of pills. When I was a child it was Valium. When she

would get upset about something (usually a man and usually every other week) she

would take enough to knock her out and she would stay in bed for a week.

I always knew she was " different " and I have never been angry. But again, this

had helped me to become an enabler (as shown with my husband and his gambling)

and codependent. I have always had issues with control, but I don't feel mine

has been directed towards my kids. Mine has been directed towards my house. I

used to vacumn everyday, so the carpet would look just right.

Right now I'm frustrated. I frustrated with myself that I couldn't find the

words to say to my nada this morning to fully express my feelings. And I'm

frustrated that I'm still so afraid of this woman that she still controls me so

much. I don't know what I'm afraid of. I know she gets angry and cuts people

out of her life. She hasn't spoken to my one brother in 2 years. I was

thinking this morning that part of me is afraid that I'm like her and if she

cuts me out of her life I'll be all alone. But I don't know if that's what

drives me to remain tongue tied and immobile when she is around. I've gotten

stronger about stating my needs with my husband, which has resulted in a better

relationship. I've gotten stronger with my job, my siblings, and my dad. All

of which has resulted in good things. But I'm still so afraid of my nada.

ARGHHHH!

I don't think I went through an anger stage in my recovery?? Perhaps

because my nada had already died?? Its like I was born old and had lots

of compassion for those who were 'different' -- including my nada. I was

enlisted early by her as her caretaker. She had a very painful kidney

problem during the first 7 years of my life until she consented to the

surgery to have it removed. I think that, in the process of taking care

of her during those years, the good part of me, my idealism, was somehow

twisted into serving as her enabler (ie, co-dependent). And subsequently

it felt comfortable to marry into the same dysfunction.

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