emotionally absent mother

For what it's worth, I had to figure it out too. I'm sorry for all of you.

Granite, wow, I've only just read this thread and the examples you gave (learning to dress yourself as a young child) really made me feel for you. I work with young children and just today I was supporting several children to dress themselves. I had so much patience as I sat beside them and gave them all the time they needed to persevere at the task for themselves. When I saw that the task was beginning to frustrate them I was able to ask "Would you like some help?" and was able to respect their answer, whether it was yes or no. One little boy put his shoes on the wrong feet. I asked him if they felt comfortable and he said yes, so it was fine for them to stay that way - he'll get it eventually!
When I supported those children today I was able to preserve their self respect and dignity, and by allowing them to persevere as much as they were able, I also supported their sense of independence and competence. These children come from pretty supportive homes and attend a preschool that is perfectly suited to optimise their development, so they have every chance of developing a strong sense of self worth and competence.
I just came back from a two week course about child development from birth to age 6, and the biggest thing I got out of it is the knowledge that between these two ages children are developing their sense of self. They absorb everything from their environment, and they accept it as truth. If the words and actions of the adults around them send the message that they are competent, loved and respected beings then that will form the basis of their self identity. If the words and actions of the adults around them send the message that they are useless, pathetic, 'wrong', and only worthy of abuse, then that will become a part of the child's self identity that he will carry through life instead.

Today I could have chosen to yell at the boy who put his shoes on the wrong feet and scream at him that he is useless and dumb. If I had, he would have believed me. If I did that to him every day, or even every now and then, he would take that on as part of his identity: he would grow up believing that he is useles and dumb and thinking that everyone else thinks of him that way, too. But that wouldn't make it ''right'.

Luckily I didn't (and wouldn't ever!). I honored his beautiful, developing self instead. He is learning and growing exactly as he should, practising the tricky skills of dressing himself over and over again - and sometimes getting it right, and sometimes not.

There really wasn't any difference between the child-you and the children that I supported to dress themselves today. In terms of 'good and bad' there's a very level playing field - kids are just kids, and none of them are born knowing how to get dressed! There sure is a difference between me and your mom though, and how we chose to treat the children in our care.

Ugh, sorry for being so long and drawn out. I really, really hope you can share the book with your T. As someone else said she NEEDS to know about the abuse so she can help you more effectively.

Showing T the book is not stupid. It is not dumb.
It is important, and meaningful and very, very relevant to what is going on for you.

wow this post is amazing.those kids are so lucky to have you in there lives.
i am going to have to read this over and over to try and absorb what you are saying.i have been in institutions and stuff most of my early life and no one has ever explained this stuff like this book does or you or the people here.it sure brings about a lot of feelings.even reading your post brings up feelings

Okay, I'm still puzzling over this thing about someone teaching you to get dressed. I guess I taught my kids to get dressed without ever really thinking about the fact that I taught myself to try to keep my mother from doing 'stuff' to me while she was dressing me, and what all teaching myself entailed.

For those of you who had quasi decent mothers or mother figures - is it normal for someone to teach you how to get dressed? I don't know why I am finding this so upsetting. I cannot even articulate WHY I am upset.

I had a quasi-decent mother, but I am reading this & feeling amazed any of you can remember details from your childhood. Mine is encapsulated in fog. Seriously. It's like I burst into existence at age 12 or so. So annoying. Even if I think I pull up a memory, it will suddenly seem like I something I have fabricated.

I take that back - I do remember REALLY struggling to learn to tie my shoes. I had to have been 4 because I remember it being in a certain house. I was REALLY hard on myself that I couldn't figure it out. I don't remember anyone teaching me though. But I've never been one to ask for help. Guess that was true when I was 4 too.

Ten bucks says the shoe tying thing feels like a lie by the time I submit this reply.

Pardon the massive hijack but yes, I do now feel like a big dramatic liar.

Ok, fine. I will give in to the crazy. I was apparently born knowing how to tie my shoes. I never had to learn how to tie them. This was all a big scam to make people feel sorry for me. Sorry to bother everyone with my insanity.

ARGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i remember things all to clearly.the bad things mostly .like how i felt . reading about figuring out shoes i don't remember who taught me how to tie them but i remember the mother ripping them off my feet and throwing them at me hitting me with them and splitting my lip.but also the panic i felt because she kept saying WRONG!!!!!and i didn't know how to get it right and if i got it wrong i would get hit and called names and sent to try again.how i hated to go back in the kitchen with them on my feet.

i don't believe that P

This happened to me too, but I didn't get a split lip.

One time, I was backing a horse trailer for a friend, and she asked me how I got so good at backing big rigs. I was concentrating on what I was doing so without thinking, I just told the truth: my dad beat the snot out of me every time I made a mistake. She looked at me like .

Granite YOU ROCK. SERIOUSLY.

#1: You are reading a book that on some level you know is true for you, even if it triggers you horribly and brings up awful memories. If you weren't ready to face some of this, you wouldn't read it.

#2: I've read it and found parts hard to read--but my mom was merely neglegent emotionally, unlike your mom who was flat out abusive and evil. This book was made for the former, but i think ALL abusive parents are obviously emotionally absent.

#3: Yes, talking with your T about this will be amazing. I know it scares you and you are afraid that she will think its unimportant or stupid or whatever...but try and remember ALL the times you think this will happen, and it NEVER does. Because T knows that you have gone through awful stuff, and only verbalizing it will make you heal. She is on YOUR side, and your side only.

#4: You can do it. You just keep leaping forward in therapy

#5: Pbutton, I swear we are the same person sometimes! I do not have many memories at all until i'm like 11 or so. I just told my T a few weeks ago that it seems all my memories I am "11 or 12," which possibly can't be true

i think my earliest memory i have is of me playing with some bed sheets. i had to be only about 3 .the mother had hung sheets out on the line to dry.she had pin one side on one line and the other on the other line creating kind of like a U tunnel .i was climbing up in them and crawling around from one end to another.i have no idea how i didnt pull them off the line i guess i was really small.it was fun.but what strikes me now is the fact that i was 3 outside playing without the mother around at all.i was alone .with no fence or anything just open yard and a road .would never have let my son out there alone

Velcro, that is really interesting. My mom was also merely emotionally neglegent. Maybe there's a certain level of awfulness and fear that is easily blocked and fogged away. Some horrors (Granite/MKAC) are too much to forget.

Or maybe we're both just pod people who hatched at age 11.

The mind is amazing... perhaps they aren't fabricated...?

I remember too much, mostly the bad. My earliest memory was me crawling out of my crib in the dark over garbage bags filled with dirty clothes and trash, it was daytime and I was looking for the mother or anyone, age 1.5-2. Then the next one was standing on the washer between my parents as they were yelling at each other, I was wearing my birthday dress and crying, age 3. I asked my Dad once and he confirmed that both memories are true. , It freaked him out because now he wonders what else I remember. Don't know how I remember them though. As for shoes, I remember trying to teach myself before school every day. I was an afternoon Kindergartner and would get myself up and dressed and off to the bus stop before anyone even awoke. I remember being very proud of myself when I finally did it... but then being sad because there was no one to tell so that they would be proud of me.

Teaching children dressing skills and hygiene skills, etc. is what decent mothers and fathers do. Otherwise, my sons would have tried to put their pants on after their shoes, the shoes would have been on the wrong feet and never would have been tied, shirts would have been on inside out and backwards, and absolutely nothing would have matched. And being boys, they wouldn't have cared about any of the above like girls generally would and would still be walking around that way. I suspect this thought has brought up a sense of loss for you, for a mother that would have cared correctly for you just as you have done for your own children.

I think of the name of the book and my stomach turns. I am impressed that you can read it ... even at little bits at a time ...

My mother should never have been given permission to be a parent, with the MI SHE brought into parenthood.

I spent years (almost my whole life) banging my head against the wall and trying and reaching for someone that clearly was unreachable. A concrete, judmental, invalidating, higher than thou, condescending, nasty, emotionally unavailable, vacant wall.

I regret that I wasted my life feeling I was so hideous...when it was just a projection from her twisted mind placed on me.

*sigh*

At least I realize it now and can salvage something of a life for myself ... . AND she can never hurt me again.

(I DO tend to run from women like that in my everyday life, though...the personalities still represent monsters to me). I know, something to work on and work toward.

granite, children cannot learn when they are scared. I think that this is what happened to you. (Besides the fact that your mom didn't teach you). You were so scared trying to figure things out. I can't imagine how you must have felt.

I have been avoiding this thread for quite some time because the title "The Emotionally Absent Mother" describes Mom perfectly. Apparently I'm having an issue with avoidance because I read this thread and writing this reply because I am avoiding work.

My mother was depressed and anxious until about three months ago when she sought help at age 65.

What was important to Mom was appearances. I knocked out one of my front teeth when I was 2. So what did she do? Took me to the dentist where I was fitted with a false tooth. That is my first memory...being at the dentist office terrified because they took x-rays and impressions of my mouth. I remember a hygienist taking me into the dark room to watch her develop the film to keep me calm. I had to pitch the mother of all hissyfits to not have to wear the damn false tooth.

I also understand the shoe-tying thing. I was 6 before I could do it. I could read the f**king newspaper at age 5, but couldn't tie my shoes. It aggravated my parents because the little genius princess couldn't do something.

I always thought I was responsible for my mom's moods. When I succeeded, when I was cute, when I acted the genius, Mom was happier. When I failed, when I wasn't so cute, when I acted dumb, she was down. What else was I supposed to think? There seemed to be a correlation there.

I thank God I wasn't beaten, but seeming to be in control of a parent's mood is a huge responsibility for a little girl...especially when it wasn't actually my job to do so.

I guess I need to break down and buy the book, huh?

I have a brother who is 11mos younger then me. In Southie they call that Irish Twins. I had to take care of him totally. I can remember changing his diapers and accidentally poking him with the safety pin and him screaming. I got beat for that. I had to only be 3 or 4. Cloth diapers, I vividly remember rinsing soiled diapers in the potty. I had to feed him, rock him, dress him. I could barely dress myself. In Christmas pics J and I are in filthy t's, diapers/underwear and bare feet. (think Boston winter)

I thought so! My mother keeps bringing up the story of how I washed the dish towels in the toilet, and I said, I was imitating you dumping the diapers - all the italian moms did that. She got all embarrassed and totally denied it and was all, where did you get such an idea?! Why would I make that up? How else do you deal with a poopy cloth diaper? Thanks, wiki - a 60-yr old mystery has been solved.

i think you call the service to come and get them

obviously I don't know nuthin' 'bout birthin' babies!

this thread is causing memories. I hope it's ok if I write something else.

I had really long thick red hair that was always nasty and knotted. She never showered us, and I just didn't know I was supposed to bathe. Anyhow, the nuns would sometimes wash my hair in the teachers lounge and comb it out. i remember them telling me I smelled bad. Occasionally the words "white trash" were used.

oh wiki i am sorry that must have been so humiliating.

I got my hair cut because my brother broke a brush while trying to brush it out in the morning before school. I remember them saying they "couldn't afford to keep buying brushes". I had beautiful long curly hair, and I turned into an ugly little plain girl. my mother kept asking me if I was sure I wanted to cut my hair, and I kept saying yes, but it was because of what they said. my mother worked in a restaurant so she was gone right after dinner until bar closing time, and she did not get up in the morning with us. When I started my period (age 10 1/2), she switched to the day shift. but then she spent all evening in the bathroom reading the newspaper in 7th grade, one hot sticky day, the nun was like, who has the rusty panties? you kids are growing up, you need better hygiene! i'm gonna sniff each one of you, one by one and figure out who has a problem! she stopped by me and gave me such a LOOK, but didn't say anything, publicly or privately. I'm sure she never expected the smelly one to be the smartest girl in the class. but up til that day, I changed my underpants once a week and didn't use tp except on my butt, to "save" my mother from having to do too much laundry. she never noticed. it was just her gigantic nylon underpants and my one filthy cotton pair, that she ironed every week, and she never noticed. I was just invisible. and she always brags what a great sense of smell she has! emotionally and virtually physically absent.

All these stories are so heartbreaking and you are all so brave to share them. I tried but quickly deleted it. The embarrassment from then still causes me embarrassment now. My mind says that none of us should be afraid or embarrassed by what happened back then, as we were children. Our caregivers should carry this embarrassment and guilt because all of these heart wrenching stories are truly reflections of them and their short comings. Not us, we were just the children they failed. My heart goes out to you all. So brave!

After thought... Maybe that's the key? Maybe if we share and tell these stories, we can shake off these feelings and then give the embarrassment and shame back to those whom it truly belongs too?