Three days ago my mum died.
Yeah, thats quite a start to a blog isnt it.
I mean I could have warned you, or said something reflective, or a nice quote. But no.
Three days ago my mum died.
And the hardest thing about it, so far, has been trying to share this news, to friends (who know my story) and maybe all of you who have followed it on here, to illicit the kind of response that seems appropriate.
My story. My survival and rebuilding story.
Because, for so long my life wasnt about me, and even most of what I wrote here, wasn’t about me. She dominated… and im almost reluctant to give this news attention, but I almost want to share because it means that the story ive written about here, has completion, or reality. Its not even as if in writing this I feel like i’m processing, or hurting or sharing pain, its more just acknowledging the reality.
On a human level, she died 9 months after being diagnosed with cancer, and it accelerated fairly quickly, and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, yet also there is something in the relief of such an illness not dragging on.
But I didnt feel the need to see her, there was nothing I needed to hear, say or see, and I am at peace with this.
Peace. Thats an interesting word.
If there has been a word that this has all felt in the last few days, it has been safe.. and safe is a bit like peace. The world is safer, for me and many others.
I know other people might have different opinions or have had different experiences of her, I can’t imagine anyone who met her didnt at some point feel any sense of emotional eggshell walking, or the force of abruptness, some of you might choose to ignore these things.
(Ive already had someone share their story yesterday to me of being on the received end of her rudeness, and my last conversation with her (March 2020) involved being shouted at on the phone and being told that covid was being over dramatised…. )
It’s almost like I didnt want to give this news and her any attention, yet somehow, there is some attention I need to give this or should, because it is important, and big.
Should. Thats an interesting word.
Should.
What should I feel.. when my life abuser dies?
Who also played the role of mother.
What should I feel…
Is there a should?
Is there a should about what I feel?
Because..
If you’ve known me personally this year, you will know that ive been very real and present with my emotions, safe on the inside, doing a lot of crying, happy, feeling this year.. safe… and ive felt like life has been from my heart, open.. to feel, receive and give…
And I know what numb and suppression feels like – I had to do this for 40 years. This doesn’t feel like that. Neither does it feel like denial.
I have space to feel, safety to do so… yet…
Its not even as if I haven’t ‘gone there’ to find a good memory, or moment… but when I have… its not been met with a sense of grief, or happy, or anything… its just a memory.
And the memories that have emerged, have all been negative.. and because of therapy and where I am at.. they have also been met with self love, and care… but also.. just a memory.
A thought, a past thought, that feels distant.
Maybe I was already ready for this.
Maybe I had already gained life despite, or maybe realised my own self in such love and power, that she had emotionally and physically disappeared…. and the grief I gave myself safety to feel about 8 weeks ago, was the grief of what might have been .. with loving supportive parents, not those who I had to navigate, hide away from and avoid emotionally.
Maybe when I read this book in November, (and thank you to Meghan, for sharing it with me)
Im glad my mom died by Jeanette McCurdy
– it gave me permission to feel what might be a reality in the nearer future than anyone thought a few years ago. (mum was only 68)
It also helped me see what I have had to do to make my story public about what I suffered. Yes im not the only one who has done this, but not many write about their mothers publicly. It also helped me know that others have stood up to them, yet Jeanette did this when her mother was dead.
(I raised complaints and made safeguarding statements in the last 4 years against her, when she was alive. I made others aware of her, in professional places. Yeah, you didnt know this, and this adds to all of this)
Jeannettes story is full of heartbreak, anger and coping. Mine has been too, and you have read this.
But im not raging, angry or feel like any sort of fight, thats been done. That fight had been 4 years with all those processes, and it nearly killed me last summer, I was empty.
I had to finally let go, and do life for me.
Neither …i’m not glad, happy, or even feel like dancing on her grave stuff… even if that would make for a good blog title or book cover, im not cruel, and that can be sensationalist, and its not that.
But today I dont feel in that place, I haven’t all year.
Its calm. Its peace. Its safe. And even writing this today isnt being met with anything other than these feelings. Feeling held and whole, love full on the inside, peace, calm, safe.
And, I didnt wait until her death to find life, or feel safe, this been apparent all year, but now..it feels complete.
I have let things go and doing so has felt light, for different things this year.
So this… feels like… a release? maybe.
It’s almost like… it’s over.
I had created life for myself in almost every way that didnt involve her, except any processing of the strings of old abuse, and I am utterly proud of what that has been for me, its been massive.
I know what I have had to do. I know what I have done.I know who I am. I know that I am love, I feel full of love and joy, in myself that feels so so deep.
I do wonder if other feelings and thoughts will emerge in the next few days or weeks, and maybe they will, maybe they won’t, and they won’t hurt me, it won’t hurt me to feel them.
This might be one of the may pieces I have written that to you feels really big as you read this… but as I write, it just feels like ‘just a part of my story, part of the reality, part of me feeling my way through all of this.
Im truly safe now. Thats what this feels.
James Ballantyne 