Caring for my Abusers

For the 3rd time as an adult, I find myself providing support to someone who abused me. Each of these experiences is unique aside from the most basic element: I show up for people who need me, always.

My Mother

After my father left her on the brink of my college graduation, my mother fell into a deep depression for nearly a decade. She leaned on me harder than anyone would consider to be acceptable. Note that I was only 22 years old and did not yet recognize the emotional and psychological injuries she had inflicted during my childhood: I did not perceive her as my abuser.

I moved from Ohio to Texas shortly after graduation, so the support was primarily by phone. She called me every day, sometimes multiple times a day, sobbing, begging me to help her and expressing thoughts of suicide. I developed a visceral reaction to my home phone ringing: my stomach knotting up even before I answered the call. On days when I could not bear it, I would let the phone ring instead of answering. Fun fact: An answering machine that is turned off will still pick up after an excessive number of rings.

I wasn't able to escape. If I answered the call, she would spend hours begging me to fix something completely out of my control. Conversations focused on her obsessive anger at the alleged other woman, her belief that my father must be mentally ill, and inappropriate details of her marriage. Not answering yielded a desperate voice message telling me I was the only person who could keep her from suicide: a misplaced sense of responsibility typically caused me to return the call.

That decade of my life is a blur of anxiety, guilt, and fear. Many years later with the help of a therapist I was able to unpack this and face the repressed anger and resentment. My mother had no respect for my life or how these calls impacted me, focused only on herself. She made me I believe that I was responsible to keep her alive.

My Ex-Husband

Mark and I were married for 27 years, most of them uncomfortable. He was the wrong man for me, but I feared the shame and judgment of divorce. Mark abused me emotionally and financially, always positioned himself as the victim if I objected to how he spoke to me or his excessive spending. When he moved out at my request I felt like I could breathe for the first time in years.

We became amicable following the divorce. He was visiting several years later when he asked me to look at a large knot that had appeared suddenly on the back of his head. I insisted he see a doctor. It was advanced and aggressive: mucinous adenocarcinoma, primary tumor at the base of his esophagus with metastases to his skull, spine, ribs and lungs. With the full support of my fiancé, I acted as Mark's medical advocate. We were living 50 miles apart, so I attended medical appointments by FaceTime and visited him frequently.

I was the person he trusted. I always told him the truth and ensured his care was appropriate:

• When his vision began to decline, I told him it was the tumor on his occipatal lobe.

• When he couldn't feel his legs, I told him it was the tumors on his spine paralyzing him.

• I fired the hospice nurse who mistreated him.

• After 6 weeks in a skilled nursing facility I sat by his bedside, talking to him for hours while he transitioned.

All of this was difficult, took time out of my life. The difference is that it was an informed choice: I knew that he needed me, and I showed up for him. He was so grateful for my support and ensured that I knew it. Mark and I made peace with each other, offered true forgiveness. My fiancé demonstrated his deep compassion and understanding, supported me and told me he admired my willingness to do it.

Overall, this was a positive experience.

My Mother - Round 2

My mother is toxic. I've chosen to remain in contact with her for reasons even I do not always understand. She's showing signs of dementia, leading to both a need for support and an increased tendency to treat me unkindly. This is challenging.

My reward for visiting her and doing things she enjoys was to be accused of stealing. That really hurt and set off a CPTSD flare that continues to plague me.

My sister has an easier relationship with her and I'm so grateful that she is both willing and able to lead the efforts to ensure her safety. Our mother is healing from a broken arm and living with my sister for a few months. It would not be safe for me mentally or emotionally to have our mother in my home.

Soon I will be staying with my mother for 3 weeks so my sister's family can take their planned vacation. This is harder in many ways, because I am fully aware of what is ahead:

• My mother is selfish and verbally abusive toward me.

• She will say things that land hard, potentially triggering another flare.

• If I make her angry she will pull the suicide card: "I should be dead." (This is manipulation, not suicidal ideation.)

I've had to reframe this to make it bearable: I'm doing it for my sister and her family, not for my mother. Showing up for them is the right thing to do.