On the last episode of Biggest Loser, contestant Shaye was pushed to an emotional break. Her trainer, the ever gritty Jillian, prodded into the reasons why a young woman had gotten to be 474 pounds. Through sweat and tears, Shaye's heart wrenching story was revealed. Her mother killed herself with heroine. She shut her in a closet when she had men over, pushed her aside, and a little girl was forever changed by the poor choices of the one who was suppose to take care of her, keep her safe, love her more than anything.
Shaye thought she had made it, she hadn't become addicted to drugs, a battle won, only to realize, she instead was killing herself with food. At her breaking point she cried out, " I couldn't make her love me."
Sometimes mommies are broken.
I was never shoved in a closet, but I remember more men at our house than I care to. Some were nice, some were awful. I remember cops and ambulances. I remember wishing I was dead when I was 9.
I couldn't make my mom love me.
Not more than she loved herself.
I spent so many years being angry or sad. I've spent years medicating myself with food.
A disease stole my mom, she's broken because of it. she is still alive yet not really living. imprisoned by jealousy, envy, and mistrust.
I once read a statement written about narcissism- it said, having a narcissist for a mother is like playing house with a 6 year old. they will dress you and feed you, kind of like a doll, but when something else comes along they will drop you on the floor and go to what pleases them more.
I struggled when I became a Christian, with the honoring of my mother, what did that look like?
There is no way to have a civil conversation, I must weight every word, guard every emotion. I must protect myself.
I dont write this to dishonor her, but because this struggle is not unique to me. We have people in our lives we owe honor to, yet their behavior makes it nearly impossible. When I speak to my mom, it won't go well, I know that so I lower my expectations. She is not capable of giving me what I need from a mother. If I still require her to, I set her and myself up for failure. I can't talk about personal things with her, so God graciously gave me a great step mother , a wonderful daughter, aunts and friends. I let go of the anger because it poisoned me. I let go of expectations because they hurt me. I am responsible for my actions and reactions, she isn't.
I guess God gives all of us obstacles, often they are people and usually those closest to us.
so we learn from them
how not to hurt others
how not to react.
By the grace of God go I