“Family should be our safe haven. Many times, this is where our heartache is the most. ~ Iyanla Vanzant
One Tuesday, my brother called me at work to tell me that my mother had suddenly passed away. Intense emotions of shock and relief coursed through me, like someone was ringing a gong next to me. The war is over.
Like most people with abusive parents, I used to wonder how I would feel when my mother died. I’m not surprised or saddened by this relief.
I didn’t think about what would happen next.
funeral
One of my brothers and I flew to Houston to meet my middle brother. Like death in the South, neighbors gave us food – bless them. My mother’s extended family gathered around us as we took charge of making funeral plans.
I should get an Oscar for keeping my cool and not getting mad at them. I learned how to be a human being from the best: my mother was one person in public and another at home. My mother’s extended family thought she was amazing. I watched expressionlessly as my relatives told funny stories and talked about her excellent character.
The hardest part is when extended family compares me to my mother. From what I can tell, she’s mean, grumpy, and childish, and it feels like she’s being compared to a school bully. I just tried not to roll my eyes loudly.
After the hustle and bustle of the memorial service was over, everyone went home, and my brothers and I held our own memorial service in the living room. We laugh at some of her biggest hits. “Remember when she yelled at the cashier who wouldn’t take her coupon?” “Remember when she said my house was too small and she didn’t even look at it?”
aftermath
When I got home, people who cared about me kept saying to me, “I’m so sorry for your loss.” I just looked at the ground and mumbled, “Well, thank you.” Now, when I hear the news that someone has died When I say, “Oh, wow,” I give that person space to express their truth.
My father died six years ago. I know from personal and professional experience that after death, the numbness of reality wears off after about two months. I brace myself to dig into those tough emotions.
The anger and sadness about my mother was like a bomb – felt by everyone in the area. I have experienced feelings of worthlessness before and know the abuse is not my fault (thanks, therapy!). I gained thirty pounds from grief. Now I’m also angry about the way grief issues have invaded my body.
Family matters continue (of course)
Of course, I still keep in touch with my extended family. When they want to tell me the legendary story of my mother, I try to tell the story clearly. We will only reach a stalemate.
On my mother’s birthday, family members posted memories of her on Facebook. Then I posted a picture of the two of us when I was seven years old. We were at my dance recital, and my mother was smiling at the camera with her arms outstretched, and I was holding her close. A friend messaged me privately: “She didn’t touch you at all.” I replied: “That’s right.”
One aunt finally admitted: “Yes, your mom was very hard on you.” I’m shocked that people knew about the abuse and did nothing. When I was a child, my family left me to save themselves, which caused me months of emotional frustration.
To this day, these people and I avoid the topic of my mother.
then, cure
I worked with my therapist to work through my grief in journals through art and movement. As I looked through my emotional wreckage, I began to appreciate the many women who became my mother throughout my life.
I changed my nutrition. I learned to nurture myself in ways I never could as a child. I became my own mother.
As the smoke of grief cleared, I unraveled unconscious behaviors from my childhood. I started listening to my true self and making better choices. For example, I discovered that my essence is gentleness. I couldn’t hear myself because I was locked in a battle with my mother.
Through more journaling, more therapy, and more time (seven years at this point), I was finally able to release this situation. People use the word “forgiveness.” More precisely, I could see the full extent of my childhood meltdown. I found true peace.
use tools
In my practice, I have seen others feel relief when an abusive parent dies. Like me, they often don’t think about past emotions or situations.
Some things to consider:
1. You may be compared to your abusive parent, for better or worse. People outside the immediate family rarely speak ill of the deceased.
2. Even though you feel relieved, there is still sadness, even if it is “I should have had it…” Suppressing your feelings will cause them to come out from the side. Grief is a difficult and time-consuming process, but it’s worth it for your recovery.
3. Even though your abusive parents have passed away, they still live on in your mind. Every mean thing they said, every crazy thing they did—it’s all still there. Do trauma work to reclaim your life.
4. You are more important than the people you survive. Listen to your true self. Who are you under the abuse of an abusive parent?
5. Family members often push the abused person to forgive prematurely. It’s like putting a Band-Aid on a wound. Forgiveness can set you free, but only if you are ready.
from a distance
I’m not grieving my mother’s death, nor do I miss her. She suffered from mental illness and I’m glad she doesn’t suffer from it anymore. I’m also glad she won’t hurt me or my siblings anymore.
From a distance, I can see my mother’s incredible flaws (which I haven’t forgotten), but also her strengths. She is very artistic. She loved animals and the elderly and tried to help them. She was a feminist before it was fashionable.
As expected, her death brought about a ceasefire, but also something more. It gave me the opportunity to escape the shackles of this long war so that I could walk away and into my true self.
About Tara Alexander
Dr. Tara Alexander, ACC, is a licensed mental health therapist and certified life coach. As a speaker and trainer, she helps groups become confident and resolve conflicts. You can get free practical tools through her blog and ConquerConflict.com video blog.
