Written by Renee Brush, Ph.D. and Linda E-F

Note: I wrote this at the beginning of December, 2022 for context of my comments.

This has been a roller coaster year. In January, when the housing and rental market was booming, I was informed I had two months to move. And I did, though it was an extremely stressful two months. And then the cost of goods skyrocketed. After renting for four years, I felt “house poor” but I was happy to own my place and not have to worry about what the management company would say about my two dogs, my daughter's cat, or her best friend I allowed to move in without informing anyone. I was able to have my own sanctuary that was mine and I could fix up however I wanted.

The past year has been a mixed bag of goods really. As I approached the holidays, I wanted to see my family but I also wanted to spend it with my daughter. And, for financial and other reasons, she didn’t feel like she could get away. Plus her friends and boyfriend were here. Also, I didn’t feel like I could get away financially. Decisions, decisions. 

So, I decided to stay home. I’ve shared before that not going home for Christmas didn’t sit well with my mom, and so, after I made the decision, I felt quite a bit of anxiety about telling my dad about my plans. I had to repeatedly remind myself that my dad was much more understanding about these things. And he was. He got it. He said he was disappointed, of course. But he was not mad. It was so refreshing to be able to make a decision and not have it be held against you. And then I was rewarded - my sister later called and asked if they could all come to visit. I was overjoyed. Of course I said yes!

And that is when the flood gates opened. Slowly at first. 

It first dawned on me that, in all of the years I have lived out of state - since 1989 - this is the first year my family is coming to visit me for Christmas. My inner world shifted just a little bit. How had I never realized this? All those years when I couldn’t go home because I was working retail, I was made to feel guilty when they could have come to spend that time with me. As I’m writing this, I am scouring my memories to make sure I am not telling any mis- or half-truths. I have only one memory of my parents coming to visit me and my first husband in the winter before we had our daughter, but I can’t even say that it was for Christmas. I can't place why they had come to visit that time. Either way, it was clear to me in the moment my family decided to come here this year that, for my mom, the responsibility was mine to make sure we spent time together at this time of the year. 

That was when I first felt a bit of anger. And then the anxiety set in.

We moved to this house at the end of March. Since I’m running two businesses, my house is still not in 100% order - I have boxes in my sunroom still packed and my bedroom walls have no pictures on them. In September, branches fell out of the tree in my front yard and I have not been able to get them cleared away. As I looked around, the list kept getting longer of things that I wanted to get done before my family got here. And then there were things that were partially finished - like I had painted my front door and a planter box but not the shutters on the front of my house. 

My daughter also worried about space because my house isn’t large. So her anxiety fueled mine but I was able to keep mine in check to help soothe hers. However, she wasn’t wrong. I needed to be able to seat everyone. And I want my family to be comfortable while they are here.

My anxiety kept building so I would work at my list for a day or two and then I would shut down. Once I realized I wasn’t doing anything about the list, the anxiety would be worse than ever. Until I had a panic attack. I have told you before that I have spent my life dissociated, so panic attacks are rare for me. This was probably my second panic attack in my life. 

It started as I was texting with a friend, telling her all the things I needed to do. Plus, my back was hurting and she was suggesting I take it easy for the weekend. But, I kept thinking of other things that needed to be done and of how little time I had left to do them. I could feel myself spinning up. In fact, I told her I was spinning up - getting more anxious as we talked. I hadn’t been sleeping well several nights before so I had made sure to be in bed early but there I was, laying in bed with my heart racing at 84 beats per minute (thank you, smartwatch). Not feeling tired at all. I just wanted to get up and start cleaning. Or cry. 

I cried. Honestly. And I did not get to sleep early. 

I didn't label what I experienced as a panic attack until after it was over. I also recognized that I was so anxious about getting this list done before my family came because of how it used to be when my mom would visit. 

I thought of all the times she came to visit - and while she may not have come to visit at Christmas - my mom did come to visit me, although it occurred more often when I was younger. In that moment, I was ANGRY at her for treating me in such a way that 12 years after she has passed, I still have a visceral reaction to someone coming to my house.

Well, let’s start this story when I was a kid. I learned how to clean when I was very young. I was doing laundry by the time I was 7 or 8. For the longest time, I believed my sister and I had done most of the cleaning until recently when a memory popped up of her putting an Abba or Neil Diamond record on to play while we all cleaned. But, even with that, I still feel like my sister and I did more than our fair share of the cleaning. 

Anyway, Saturdays were “family cleaning days” but I only remember my sister and I cleaning, my mom seemed to disappear, until she came to check on us. She would spot check what I was doing. Never a comment about what a good job I was doing - not that I can remember anyway. Always a comment about how I’m not moving things properly (like when I was dusting) or how I missed spots and needed to go back. 

Then, later as an adult, when she was coming to visit me in my own home, I would stay up late the night before she came, cleaning up a storm, making the house presentable for her arrival. However, it never met her standards. At some point while she was visiting, she would go through and clean everything again. Her idea of cleaning was shoving things away in cabinets so that I couldn’t find anything after she was finished. 

I have never liked to clean and most of these memories I am sharing with you were essentially suppressed for a long time. I was in my 40s and 50s believing I was incompetent when it came to cleaning. But then I recalled all of these memories.  

In reality, I have spent most of my life feeling entirely incompetent and not good enough. Not just about cleaning. Not only did my mom not say nice things about my cleaning, she never said nice things about me. At least not to me. And that is what matters. 

Because I felt I was not good enough, I went my whole life thinking I was the problem. 

Then I entered my second year of Somatic Experiencing training. One of my very good friends in my cohort lost her dear mother. I was more devastated about her losing her mother than I had been about losing my own mother. And I knew it. They had a close relationship. She knew her mother loved and was proud of her. 

I did not know the same thing. Not truly in my heart. 

Shortly after that, I realized how deeply my mom had hurt me and I was angry. So angry I would cuss her out on my drive to work - when it would be there at the front of my mind the most. I got a lot of anger out those days. I figured I was done with it. 

Until my family decided to come visit me. And all of these feelings about how terrible I am at keeping a house came flooding back into my mind. Yes, the anger was there. But now something new was there. Something much deeper and more painful - grief.

What is Posttraumatic Grief? 

When we read about grief and grieving, we naturally think of the loss of a life. After a fairly exhaustive search, it seems that all grief, no matter the cause, has some similar components—loss, distress, and, or suffering, along with how the loss is perceived and/or experienced. Every book on trauma discusses the importance of grieving as part of the healing process. However, very little research has been done on the topic of grief associated with loss due to abuse or neglect. This type of grief has been called Posttraumatic Grief (Flynn, 2017).  

During recovery, abuse survivors often look back at the “possibilities” of what could have been. How their lives could have been different had their parent just been better or healed. According to Van der Hart et al. (2006), when people discover their losses derived due to abuse and neglect, the experience and realizations can be overwhelming. Emotions can range from sadness to rage and revenge. This part of the trauma gauntlet can consume considerable mental and emotional energy.

So, yes, I am grieving. I have done a lot of healing work with my mom over the past year, but the one thing I have not done is to allow myself to be sad. 

Sad that I did not have a mom who was more concerned about me than she was about how she presented to the world. 

Sad that my mom did not know how to handle her own emotions so she could know how to handle a daughter who was sensitive emotionally. 

Sad that my mom did not have the guts to do her own work to heal, even as she talked about how hard she had it as a kid. 

Sad that she did not work as hard to give me the mom I deserve the way I am working so hard to give my daughter the mom she deserves. 

That last one is the thing I am the saddest about. My  mom always wanted a close relationship but SHE is the one who kept it from being so while blaming me for it. 

How I am handling the grief

Normally, I like to share my experiences with you and then talk about the healing process. But how can I do that if I am in the middle of it? The only thing I can do is to be authentic. That’s the only way I know how. As I was journaling about all of this trying to figure out how to handle my feelings, “write a post about it” is what came to mind, so I suspect the world needs to read this right now. So, here is how I am handling my grief as I am writing this. 

First, I am catching the negative thoughts that come up and reframing them. I am not incompetent. So much of my problems with cleaning are due to my ADHD and lack of reinforcement when I was a child. So, I remind myself of that and try to reward myself for my work. Plus I also remind myself that my dad and sister do not care. My sister keeps the house the same way I do, so she doesn’t have much room to make judgments. 

Second, I am giving myself a lot of space for the grief. If I feel tired or worn out quickly, I remind myself that I have a lot going on emotionally and I am easy on myself. It is ok if things feel tough right now. 

Next, I try not to require too much of myself, but I do want the house to look the way I want it to look, so I have pushed myself, telling myself that I will feel better after a few minutes of cleaning. But, I’m also letting some things go. The tree branch out front will stay there, but I did figure out how to mow around it so at least the grass looks fine. And my front door and window shutters will stay mismatched for now, at least until it gets warmer. 

Fourth, I have used all of the self-soothing techniques that I know work for me. I’m writing this with my Christmas tree lights on because that brings me joy and my dogs on each side of me because they bring me comfort. I have chosen to not do activities that feel like they would drain my energy and chosen to do activities that will help me feel calmer and more at peace, like my meditations. If you need some help with this, please see my post on grounding or finding joy. 

Finally, as I was writing this, I thought, “take back your power, Renee.” And I think that’s what this blog is about. I recently had a teacher in one of my meditations tell me, “She missed out because she did not get to know the real you.” In her attempt to control her own world - and by extension, me - she missed out. And, as a result, I missed out too on having the mom I deserved. But that is not my fault. My whole life it has always felt like it was my fault. But I realize now it is not. And that brings a huge amount of relief. 

I became the person I am despite her. And because of her. But if I continue to buy into her view of me - that I am incompetent or not good enough - then I will miss out on knowing me too. 

So, yes, I grieve the mother I did not have. But I will not grieve missing out on knowing me. This is where I take back my power!

References

Flynn, S. (2017, October 26). Posttraumatic grief: Healing from childhood neglect (with Sarah Flynn) — Beauty after bruises. Beauty After Bruises.

Van der Hart, O., Nijenhuis, E. R., & Steele, K. (2006). Haunted self: Structural dissociation and treatment of chronic traumatization. W. W. Norton & Company.