Memories (a gaslighting e-mail from my mom) Jan 10
(This e-mail was sent in response to a sermon I published, in which I dared to share a childhood memory in which I nearly died. This memory reflected somewhat poorly on my dad, who put me in a vulnerable position. Although I believe that I handled it well, and spoke as positively about him as I could, I knew that in posting this, I was breaking a very important family rule: never, ever speak ill of the clan)
I've had the opportunity to talk to my sister about many things that happened in our childhood. She remembers more because she was older.
What I remember about you is your self-sufficiency. You never seemed to need anything. Even as a baby, you slept through the night the first night home (after spending one night in hospital where your brothers spent 10 days each). You didn't have any learning disabilities like letter reversal, etc. And instead of fighting at school, you chose a Christian education. And instead of watching movies I disapproved of, you listened to Bible radio and ordered Bible study materials. And you did it all on your own.
I felt so horrible the day I forgot you at my sister's house - you must have been 4 - but you seemed calm and said that you had prayed. I was impressed! And I think we forgot you once at church. Your brothers (and my sister and her son were also there) were likely fighting and maybe we were saying goodbye to people at church also. It didn't take us long to hurry back to find you. Even Jesus' parents lost him and had to go back, but I did feel super bad about it.
The few (very few) times I remember you asking for help it was already too late. We were at a beach once and you were hanging off a cliff of some sort (grassy overhang over beach). You said, "Mom, I'm falling," and proceeded to fall before I could reach you. I felt absolutely like the worst mom in the world but looking back, a bit of warning might have been nice. :)
I don't remember the walk over the falls. I was usually with you guys. I do remember one of you floating down the river in a tube and I don't think I was the one to rescue you (or whichever of you was in the tube). Maybe there was someone close by who helped. It was a very popular swimming spot back then.
The time I worried about you the most was the winter scout trip. I don't think I slept at all that night. But I think of all the boys you faired the best since you had your dog to keep you warm. I always figured after that, that if you guys could survive a winter's night outside, you could survive any outdoor winter activity.
I also worried the youth canoe trip when it rained the entire time. I imagined you guys shivering and cold. But you guys came back excited and full of stories of fun in the tents and eating bugs and stuff.
One day, not so very long ago, when I was fretting about being a not-so-perfect parent, you told me that you were grateful for any good I had done as a parent and you forgave me for any wrong I had done as a parent.
I tried to show love by example rather than in the forced way I was taught (sort of a guilt-motivated legalistic set of rules) but I'm afraid I raised selfish boys in the process. It's a strange thing (and I don't profess to understand it all) but love seems to involve needing another person. When we are totally self-sufficient, we don't need the other person. We can bestow our affections in a benevolent fashion but we don't really open our hearts because we don't need to be vulnerable. People are expendable.
***
[Interpretation, written February 28, after making much progress and seeing things much more clearly]
This e-mail is like an onion. It has oh, so many layers. As it sits in my mind, I keep thinking of yet one more layer of hidden meanings. Some of the major ones are:
1. Gaslighting
Gaslighting is when someone purposely changes a shared memory. "Why did you loose the car keys?" "I didn't lose them. I gave them to you, remember?" A simple turn of phrase, but done effectively, they can shift blame, avoid responsibility, and even make the other person feel crazy.
I think most people assume that gaslighters are doing it intentionally. But sometimes I wonder how much of narcissism is intentional. And how much it is an unhealthy mind's way of shielding itself from any reality that it finds unbearable. A narcissist cannot handle any sort of failure. And so they hide from any failures they have made. Even if it means changing memories. Some of the memories that my mom changed in this e-mail:
a) The time I slid down the falls:
- She doesn't remember it (did it even happen?)
- ...yet she thinks maybe she may have saved me
- ...or maybe it was one of the other boys
- ...and I just noticed (on the fifth time reading this) the words, "in a tube." So no, Ishmael. No. That memory you have of sliding on your bum, terrified, falling to your death towards the dark pool at the end of the falls? No, that was your imagination. You were in a tube, gliding gently by. Just like all your brothers did. I just reached out and saved you. Or your brother. Can't remember. It happened so often. Or maybe it didn't happen. What were we talking about again?
b) The time I fell off a cliff
- That was another really scary time. There a lot of them. My parents didn't keep very good tabs on me (as you may detect from other things she mentions here). It was at the same slate falls. There was a slate cliff. The hand-holds looked sturdy and easy to climb. I don't know if anyone else has had the experience of climbing up something, but suddenly (especially as a child) one finds that climbing down is a whole other matter. I was about ten feet up, when I slipped. I was ashamed, and so I clung there by my fingers. I was trying desperately to pull myself up. When I knew I could not, I started whimpering for help. Quietly, because I was terrified. My parents came running, but too late. I fell "to my doom" and had one of those nightmarish feelings of falling. I landed on my butt, flat on slate. It was painful, but ultimately I was not physically harmed. I definitely remember it, though. I was about six years old: young enough that parents should be keeping tabs on me, in an area with rushing water, rocks and cliffs about
- "Oh, remember that time...you were hanging...was it from a grassy ledge? Yes, I think that was it. At a beach. With nice soft sand. Oh, it must have been so soft when you landed. But why didn't you ask for help sooner? Silly you. So independent. But so cute. Why don't you ever want to ask for help?
...note: I am not mad at her for this memory. I honestly hadn't even really thought about it. But wow, this really underscores the gaslighting that she is doing.
2. Guilting
- She attempts to guilt me for having a dog along, while winter camping, while my brothers had none
- She attempts to guilt me for choosing the "safe option" of Bible reading, prayer, Christian schools, rather than daring to encounter the "real world." Actually, this is gaslighting again, because as a teen, I made the (for then) quite courageous decision to "go to the High School as a missionary." I made kind of a big deal about it too. I carried a big bible around with my books, asked for prayer in front of the church, and everything. Has she forgotten? Or is she gaslighting?
- She continually talks about how much worry I have caused her
3. Blame shifting
- On first reading, it would seem that she is apologizing for things. But she is not. She is systematically mentioning things which I may have been offended at, and she is trying to excuse herself. I gather from this that she thinks that I am rejecting her now because she made some mistake in the past. But if that were the case, she is not doing a very good job of repenting: rather, she's giving a lot of excuses for why she forgot me. Her sister was over: the other kids were too loud. I was too quiet. Not that I blamer her. I really don't! But if you're going to apologize, apologize. If you're brining something up just to say you did nothing wrong, then I'll call it what it is: blame-shifting.
4. Hoovering
"Hoovering" (named after the Hoover brand of vacuum cleaners) is the term used in recovery groups for how abusers try to reel their victims back in. This is now the second time that my mom is reminding me that I had forgiven her. True, but forgiveness does not necessarily mean reconciliation. And she is wrong, by the way. As I mention in my "about," I am not pulling away because of what my parents have done in the past (as valid as that might be), but because in the present, I find them to be unhealthy and dangerous people. Were they to find help and healing, and were I to become convinced that they had become safe, I would definitely reconsider.
4. "You don't love me"
- The real interesting content from this e-mail is her opening and closing paragraphs.
I tried to show love by example rather than in the forced way I was taught (sort of a guilt-motivated legalistic set of rules) but I'm afraid I raised selfish boys in the process. It's a strange thing (and I don't profess to understand it all) but love seems to involve needing another person. When we are totally self-sufficient, we don't need the other person. We can bestow our affections in a benevolent fashion but we don't really open our hearts because we don't need to be vulnerable. People are expendable.
Apparently, she felt rejection from me because I (as a newborn baby) did not need her enough. She tried her best to show us how to love, but she feels that she has failed. I continue to push people away. I see people as expendable. I am a "selfish boy." I don't truly love because I don't "need" her.
...but isn't that the point? Aren't I supposed to become a mature, independent person, mom? Aren't you supposed to let me go? Is that what this is all really about? That I don't need you enough? And you don't know what to do with yourself, now that your adult son is finally growing up, and becoming an independent person?
Memories: (an e-mail from my mother)
Sometimes memories can be tricky. It's always good, when you can, to ask the other people who were present at the time what it was they saw and heard.I've had the opportunity to talk to my sister about many things that happened in our childhood. She remembers more because she was older.
What I remember about you is your self-sufficiency. You never seemed to need anything. Even as a baby, you slept through the night the first night home (after spending one night in hospital where your brothers spent 10 days each). You didn't have any learning disabilities like letter reversal, etc. And instead of fighting at school, you chose a Christian education. And instead of watching movies I disapproved of, you listened to Bible radio and ordered Bible study materials. And you did it all on your own.
I felt so horrible the day I forgot you at my sister's house - you must have been 4 - but you seemed calm and said that you had prayed. I was impressed! And I think we forgot you once at church. Your brothers (and my sister and her son were also there) were likely fighting and maybe we were saying goodbye to people at church also. It didn't take us long to hurry back to find you. Even Jesus' parents lost him and had to go back, but I did feel super bad about it.
The few (very few) times I remember you asking for help it was already too late. We were at a beach once and you were hanging off a cliff of some sort (grassy overhang over beach). You said, "Mom, I'm falling," and proceeded to fall before I could reach you. I felt absolutely like the worst mom in the world but looking back, a bit of warning might have been nice. :)
I don't remember the walk over the falls. I was usually with you guys. I do remember one of you floating down the river in a tube and I don't think I was the one to rescue you (or whichever of you was in the tube). Maybe there was someone close by who helped. It was a very popular swimming spot back then.
The time I worried about you the most was the winter scout trip. I don't think I slept at all that night. But I think of all the boys you faired the best since you had your dog to keep you warm. I always figured after that, that if you guys could survive a winter's night outside, you could survive any outdoor winter activity.
I also worried the youth canoe trip when it rained the entire time. I imagined you guys shivering and cold. But you guys came back excited and full of stories of fun in the tents and eating bugs and stuff.
One day, not so very long ago, when I was fretting about being a not-so-perfect parent, you told me that you were grateful for any good I had done as a parent and you forgave me for any wrong I had done as a parent.
I tried to show love by example rather than in the forced way I was taught (sort of a guilt-motivated legalistic set of rules) but I'm afraid I raised selfish boys in the process. It's a strange thing (and I don't profess to understand it all) but love seems to involve needing another person. When we are totally self-sufficient, we don't need the other person. We can bestow our affections in a benevolent fashion but we don't really open our hearts because we don't need to be vulnerable. People are expendable.
***
[Interpretation, written February 28, after making much progress and seeing things much more clearly]
This e-mail is like an onion. It has oh, so many layers. As it sits in my mind, I keep thinking of yet one more layer of hidden meanings. Some of the major ones are:
1. Gaslighting
Gaslighting is when someone purposely changes a shared memory. "Why did you loose the car keys?" "I didn't lose them. I gave them to you, remember?" A simple turn of phrase, but done effectively, they can shift blame, avoid responsibility, and even make the other person feel crazy.
I think most people assume that gaslighters are doing it intentionally. But sometimes I wonder how much of narcissism is intentional. And how much it is an unhealthy mind's way of shielding itself from any reality that it finds unbearable. A narcissist cannot handle any sort of failure. And so they hide from any failures they have made. Even if it means changing memories. Some of the memories that my mom changed in this e-mail:
a) The time I slid down the falls:
- She doesn't remember it (did it even happen?)
- ...yet she thinks maybe she may have saved me
- ...or maybe it was one of the other boys
- ...and I just noticed (on the fifth time reading this) the words, "in a tube." So no, Ishmael. No. That memory you have of sliding on your bum, terrified, falling to your death towards the dark pool at the end of the falls? No, that was your imagination. You were in a tube, gliding gently by. Just like all your brothers did. I just reached out and saved you. Or your brother. Can't remember. It happened so often. Or maybe it didn't happen. What were we talking about again?
b) The time I fell off a cliff
- That was another really scary time. There a lot of them. My parents didn't keep very good tabs on me (as you may detect from other things she mentions here). It was at the same slate falls. There was a slate cliff. The hand-holds looked sturdy and easy to climb. I don't know if anyone else has had the experience of climbing up something, but suddenly (especially as a child) one finds that climbing down is a whole other matter. I was about ten feet up, when I slipped. I was ashamed, and so I clung there by my fingers. I was trying desperately to pull myself up. When I knew I could not, I started whimpering for help. Quietly, because I was terrified. My parents came running, but too late. I fell "to my doom" and had one of those nightmarish feelings of falling. I landed on my butt, flat on slate. It was painful, but ultimately I was not physically harmed. I definitely remember it, though. I was about six years old: young enough that parents should be keeping tabs on me, in an area with rushing water, rocks and cliffs about
- "Oh, remember that time...you were hanging...was it from a grassy ledge? Yes, I think that was it. At a beach. With nice soft sand. Oh, it must have been so soft when you landed. But why didn't you ask for help sooner? Silly you. So independent. But so cute. Why don't you ever want to ask for help?
...note: I am not mad at her for this memory. I honestly hadn't even really thought about it. But wow, this really underscores the gaslighting that she is doing.
2. Guilting
- She attempts to guilt me for having a dog along, while winter camping, while my brothers had none
- She attempts to guilt me for choosing the "safe option" of Bible reading, prayer, Christian schools, rather than daring to encounter the "real world." Actually, this is gaslighting again, because as a teen, I made the (for then) quite courageous decision to "go to the High School as a missionary." I made kind of a big deal about it too. I carried a big bible around with my books, asked for prayer in front of the church, and everything. Has she forgotten? Or is she gaslighting?
- She continually talks about how much worry I have caused her
3. Blame shifting
- On first reading, it would seem that she is apologizing for things. But she is not. She is systematically mentioning things which I may have been offended at, and she is trying to excuse herself. I gather from this that she thinks that I am rejecting her now because she made some mistake in the past. But if that were the case, she is not doing a very good job of repenting: rather, she's giving a lot of excuses for why she forgot me. Her sister was over: the other kids were too loud. I was too quiet. Not that I blamer her. I really don't! But if you're going to apologize, apologize. If you're brining something up just to say you did nothing wrong, then I'll call it what it is: blame-shifting.
4. Hoovering
"Hoovering" (named after the Hoover brand of vacuum cleaners) is the term used in recovery groups for how abusers try to reel their victims back in. This is now the second time that my mom is reminding me that I had forgiven her. True, but forgiveness does not necessarily mean reconciliation. And she is wrong, by the way. As I mention in my "about," I am not pulling away because of what my parents have done in the past (as valid as that might be), but because in the present, I find them to be unhealthy and dangerous people. Were they to find help and healing, and were I to become convinced that they had become safe, I would definitely reconsider.
4. "You don't love me"
- The real interesting content from this e-mail is her opening and closing paragraphs.
I tried to show love by example rather than in the forced way I was taught (sort of a guilt-motivated legalistic set of rules) but I'm afraid I raised selfish boys in the process. It's a strange thing (and I don't profess to understand it all) but love seems to involve needing another person. When we are totally self-sufficient, we don't need the other person. We can bestow our affections in a benevolent fashion but we don't really open our hearts because we don't need to be vulnerable. People are expendable.
Apparently, she felt rejection from me because I (as a newborn baby) did not need her enough. She tried her best to show us how to love, but she feels that she has failed. I continue to push people away. I see people as expendable. I am a "selfish boy." I don't truly love because I don't "need" her.
...but isn't that the point? Aren't I supposed to become a mature, independent person, mom? Aren't you supposed to let me go? Is that what this is all really about? That I don't need you enough? And you don't know what to do with yourself, now that your adult son is finally growing up, and becoming an independent person?
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