Okay. I have never written any of this out before. And I have just started telling T about some of the things she has done. I am so embarassed by her. I think that if I tell him about her, he will think it's a reflection on me. And then he will think I'm nuts, too.

I really need to do this.

My situation is a strange one. And you will see why-- first off I have to say that my mother never hit me. Neither has my father. I have never been physically or sexually abused in any way. My mother has never spoken to me in a degrading way. She loves me, always has, and has always expressed how proud she is of me. I wasn't what you would call spoiled, but my dad has always made a good salary, so I was never left wanting for material things. Because of these things (especially the fact that I never been so much as smacked lightly) I never thought I had the right to attribute me being screwed up to issues surrounding my mom. But the intense fear of abandonment, the attachment issues, the black and white thinking-- where did they come from? Not my mother, I would say-- because she never hit me.

It wasn't until I began to work with T that he started to validate my feelings. I told him that I had no right to be this way-- that other kids had it so much worse. He began to help me see that I had every right to be hurt, angry, resentful, and confused because of the way she is. And that's exactly what it is with my mother-- it's not really about the things she did. It's about the way that she is. And the things she didn't do. T is helping me to see that my issues that I mentioned in the above paragraph are valid-- that it makes complete sense that I would turn out the way I am as a result of the way that she was. No one has ever done that for me before. (Except my sister, who is 14 years older than me, and my best friend in the entire world. Because we go through the same thing. But no one on the outside has ever done what T has done for me-- but I still hate him today, haha).

My mother always had severe anxiety problems. Only I never knew they were anxiety problems until I was 15 and she decided to get help for panic attacks that were so bad, she literally couldn't leave the front step of the house. Actually, it didn't matter whether she left it or not-- she would have the attacks at home, too. (Three years later I was *lucky* enough to end up in the same exact situation as her). Anyway, before the age of 15, I never knew they were anxiety problems. It was just the way I grew up... That was her. She was extremely overprotective. However, it was like I grew up under tons of rules and regulations. My household was actually a pretty relaxed one, I just wasn't allowed to do a lot of things in which I would be out of her sight, in a potentially "dangerous" situation. In fact, I was never even punished in my entire childhood. I know now a big part of the reason I have anxiety is because while I was being raised, I was being taught to be afraid of everything-- everything is dangerous. I was not allowed to do anything. If all my friends were doing something, I was not allowed. So I would always have to make up a lie, as not to embarrass myself. The mothers on the block would carpool. Maybe one mom would drive us to school or to the mall or something, and another mom would pick us up. Everyone wondered why my mom never participated. I never understood. But I had to lie to them.

My mom never really played with me. I mostly played with my dad. But he didn't get home until after 8PM from work. My mom would take a lot of naps, leaving me to play alone. And she never, ever cooked. I would normally eat Spaghetti-O's or something like that, by myself in front of the TV at night. When she did play with me, it was often to feed her own childlike addiction. My mother has a very addictive personality. Not addicted to drugs though (only cigarettes). She would get addicted to video games or she would want to get something that I got (I got a lava lamp when I was young, so she got one, too). It was popular at the time to get sticker books and collect all kinds of cool stickers to put in the books. She would do it with me, only she got her own sticker books and got way too into it.

My mom never did the things I would have wanted her to. Things I would have considered normal. Go shopping together, bake, go out for lunch.

My sister recently told me that my mom would let me go like a week without taking a bath when I was little. My sister would say to her, "Mom, Robyn hasn't had a bath in like a week-- don't you think you should bathe her?" My mom would act as if it really wasn't time for a bath yet, so my sister would bathe me.

My mom never took me to the dentist when I was a child, not one time. The first time I ever went to the dentist was when I was 12 because my tooth hurt like hell. I ended up having to get a root canal.

My sister taught me how to take a shower by myself. My mom never did.

When all the girls were shaving their legs, my mom told me it wasn't time for me to do it. My legs were disgusting and hairy, so my sister taught me how to do it.

I never celebrated Thanksgiving until I was about 16. This first time did not take place at my parent's house.

When I was about 16, things changed so that they would be much worse. And they would remain that way forever.

I had a job. I was a waitress. I put money away so that I could buy myself a computer. I bought a computer and put it in my bedroom, which was on the main level of the house. My mom ended up learning how to use the computer. She also ended up with one of the worst Internet addictions ever. Not Internet shopping, just being on the net. She would be in my room on the computer for hours at a time. My friends would come over and she would be there. I would be laying in bed at night trying to fall asleep and she would be there. I would be begging her to get off so I could do a paper for school. I will never forget the time that I told her that no matter what she did, she better not dare smoke in my room while on the computer. She swore she would never do this. One day she didn't expect me home, and there she was in my bedroom on the computer, cigarette smoke everywhere. I went absolutely crazy. A few weeks later, it happened again. Eventually, I moved my bedroom upstairs. She said that if I left the computer downstairs, she would pay the remaining balance on it. I said fine because at that point, I had no money anyway. Eventually I found out what she was doing on the computer-- meeting men. On 3 separate occasions, I found that she had set up (in person)meetings with men. Each time this happened, I would lose my mind. I was dealing with severe panic d/o and depression at the time. After I would confront her, she would be so apologetic and say she would never do such a thing again because she knew how negatively it impacted my mental health. But she would do it again. Because of her net addiction, everything fell apart. Bills no longer got paid. The house never got cleaned again. Dinner never got prepared again (not even from a can). The wash barely got done. My parents never got along again. She never cared about anything else again. I went from growing up under her overprotectiveness to having no rules. Because she didn't care. The computer had taken over. I would come home whenever I wanted. I would sleep over guys' houses. After 10th grade, she never saw a report card again, and she never noticed. I could have friends over to the house and they could stay over until whenever...

The part that hurts most about her addiction is when my mental health really started failing. I was cutting myself every single night in my room upstairs. She knew. But she just stayed on the computer. She could have come to get me. She could have said, "Here... let's doing something together... to keep you safe." But she just stayed on the computer, talking to her men.

My mom and dad live in NY. I moved to Philly. When I go back to NY to visit and she how she has let herself go, it is one of the hardest things I will ever have to see. Her hair is frazzled and messy. The only times she has ever gotten it done is when I told her that it was unacceptable, made the appointment for her, took her, and sat while she got it done. Her clothes are atrocious. They have stains everywhere. I do not remember the last time she has taken a shower. She never had great hygiene habits, even when I was a child. She has always bitten her nails to the point in which they barely exist. The house is disgusting. My dad has tried to keep it clean, but he works long hours. It's not cluttered or anything like that-- but it's dirty. She doesn't clean or dust or anything. Sometimes I will go a month or two without talking to her and she will blame it on me. (There is no reason for this other than that she is consumed by whatever has taken hold of her, and family is no longer a priority). But I am the one who always calls. My sister has gone 4 or 5 months without talking to her. I miss my dad so much, but it's so hard because when I go NY, I don't even want to be in the house. And sometimes my in-laws will invite my parents to Christmas dinner or whatever, and I purposely don't invite them... I just lie to my in-laws and tell them they can't go-- I do this because I am so embarassed by her.

I attribute my obsession with clothing, makeup, accesories, etc. with trying to deviate as far as possible from her. If it is a Sunday, and I know that all I'm going to be doing for that day is school work or cleaning up in the house, I will wake up, shower, put on makeup, fix my hair, and then do my chores.

There is a lot more to the story, most of having to do times when I needed her and she has not been there for me.

The thing that scares me more than anything in the world is when I can pick up on little things that I do (or don't do) that are like her-- I have done everything in my power not to be like her. I have also spent many years denying the ways in which I am like her.

One of my theories as to why I am this way is that I held both attachment and abandoment feelings at the exact same time. I was very attached to my mother-- not by choice. It's just that I wasn't allowed to go many places and she never went anywhere... so it was always just me and her at home. And I was learning that everything was scary and dangerous. I remember times in school, getting a stomachache, always visiting the school nurse-- much like I do with my husband and with T-- if my mother wasn't in my view, she was "gone" I will never forget my very first day of school ever-- prekindergarten-- I walked into the classroom for the first time ever-- walked over to the sink-- and threw-up. I was filled with anxiety. I remember being very young, staring out the window waiting for my dad or sister to come home... if they were 5 minutes late, I'd be panicking. Same as now. I never differentiated from my mom in a healthy way. But at the same time as the attachment, there was the abandoment. =She never taught me the skills to be independent. Not even basic life skills. My theory is that in order to defend against the confusion of feeling attached and abandoned by the same person, I decided that I could never hold more than one feeling towards someone at the same time. So there was my black and white thinking and my splitting-- I became much safer that way. When it's good, it's really good. But when it's bad, it's bad-- and it all falls apart. But it's never, ever in the middle.