"I've been breaking my own heart my whole life," she said, "because I keep expecting my narcissistic mother to care about me. How stupid am I?"

"You haven't been breaking your own heart," I replied. "She broke your heart and then taught you to take over (which is the insidious nature of internalized shame).Despite how it feels, it is not a "you" problem and it never was. In fact, from your body's perspective, this was infinitely wise, and definitely not stupid."

~~~

If you're grieving this profound loss, it makes sense and you're not alone.

If you experience shame about any or all of this, it makes sense and you're not alone.

And what about hope?

I know you often speak of/to/about shame, but I'm curious what your thoughts are on hope, and the relationship to hope. A seemingly positive candle to keep lit: hope that a mom will choose love and care for her daughter, eventually ... a seemingly positive wrapping ... also an expression of self-concept: being someone who does not to "lose hope" ... But - balancing this so as not to keep breaking our own heart with it feels endlessly tricky, to me - at least so far. How to discern when hope is an expression of the light of love within, something to cherish about and within myself ... versus a self-harming and detrimental intermittent reinforcement pattern that will always cause or perpetuate hurt. ~ an adult daughter

This is such a good question. I am generally a hopeful person (not all the time and not in all situations). I always have been. My mother, however, thinks hope is naive (i.e., pathetic) so I learned to temper my hope around her (and so many other qualities I love about myself) and ultimately to be ashamed of my hopeful self.

My friend Robb Hillman is known for saying that Pollyanna was a badass. He said, "I don't think Pollyanna was simple and naive to reality. I think she was a badass who bent reality to her will. Optimism isn't lazy, it is consciously choosing the perspective that best serves you."

I am also intimately familiar with the hopelessness and despair (and shame*) that comes with expecting my mother to be someone she isn't now and will likely never be.

(*because I am supposed to be over it and to have forgiven her by now)

Do I hope that my mother will choose to love and care about me? No.

But neither am I hopeless. I am open to my mother changing and to having a different experience of her, but I do not expect it and I will be okay if she doesn't (being "okay" doesn't mean there won't be uncomfortable emotions along the way...it means I trust myself with uncomfortable emotions).

The hope I DO experience is because of me, not her. It's something I cultivate on purpose. I love my mother. Meaning, I can summon the "light of love within" me when I think about about her a certain way. There are things I admire about her. There things I am no longer angry with her for.

What's also true is that I don't feel safe interacting with her and I am not sure I ever did. I used to experience so much shame about that. Now it's a neutral fact.

There's also some protective, righteous anger for the disgust and contempt she projected onto me.

That shit crushed me and and changed my view of myself for 45+ years of my life until I reclaimed myself and learned to fight forward for me, rather than fighting back at her (which is what she wanted...she loves a fight and told me more than once that she liked provoking me).

I cherish both the hope and the righteous anger (and everything in between) that live within me. This is a perspective that serves me right now.

What do you think? What perspective serves you?

Much, much love,

Karen

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