What to do when someone doesn't want to speak to you - Tina Gilbertson, LPC (2023)

I'm trying to hear all this as a mother... and as a daughter. At 47, I'm really in the middle. I now understand that my mother's perceptions, actions, feelings, reactions and comments are... just... well... her perspective is very self-centered. Her world is full of things "she" likes. Sometimes she tells me something about ours that makes me want to scream, "That's a blatant lie!" but instead I listen to her and hear her story of how she WANTED HIM, not what he really was like .

Example: In my real life (my perception), I had just turned 18, a girl entrenched in an abusive relationship that I was desperate to escape. I obeyed my friend because I was afraid of him and what he would do. My mom seemed so mad at me for "spending all my time with him" but she didn't give me a choice. When I was a teenager, it also hurt me that she spent so much time with her boyfriend/fiancé and never did anything to me. It was August and we had an argument. I tried really hard to pick a university in Philadelphia and made several trips there to prepare for my application. I just needed help with the financing... or the paperwork to get it all together. We argued about it and she yelled at me "I'm not setting you up in Philly just so you can fuck your boyfriend!!" so cruel and vehement. I was so depressed and felt so hopeless. Moving to Philadelphia was the only way I could think of to get away from him, and now that wasn't even possible.

However, the reality for my mom was that she really didn't know how to fill out the financial aid forms and really didn't believe she could afford it the way her finances were going with her fiancé/stepdad. Maybe she really believed that I really liked my boyfriend and was enjoying being practically raped by him. I don't know. It wasn't something I discussed with her.

I enrolled full-time at a county college and found a 20-hour job as a bank teller. I thought I would get stronger and more powerful and I could plan another escape. I kept trying to break up with the boyfriend. On September 14th the abusive boyfriend came into our house in the middle of the night, he turned on my bedroom, I woke up with a start and saw him...he turned the light off again so he was on top of me, covering my mouth and telling me that I should shut up that I really needed to talk. He begged and begged me not to break up with him and threatened suicide and manslaughter. I calmed down and said it would be fine if we could go further just to sleep later and come up with a new plan. He wouldn't leave until he "sealed" the deal with sex. I appeased, I didn't spoil.

I kept trying to break the relationship and get involved with school and work. In mid-October I found out I was pregnant. I cried to my mother with such certainty that NOW she would pity me and help me. Her response was, "I'll wash my hands of that! You're on your own." and I was depressed.

I decided, in my naive way, that I was going to show him... that I would succeed in life, despite all his horrible opinions of me. My perception was that she thought I was a whore whose promiscuity put me in that position.

Just today, 30 years later, he told me, "When you and Mike were dating, I tried so hard to get you to go to college in Philadelphia, but you loved him so much you didn't want to." let it. And I knew about the fights! And I even tried to get a restraining order to keep them apart."

This is pure fantasy. But I understand it's a fantasy about what she would have done to spare me the next 20 years of domestic violence, which I didn't tell her about until years after the divorce.

My mother and I are best friends now, and like any true friend, I allow for her mistakes because I love her. In this case, I'm the bigger person and I know better. She can tell these complete untruths about the past and I tried to correct her but she understandably got defensive and argued. After all... she contradicted her "reality". As she shared this new story today, I kept my mouth shut and then closed my eyes and imagined her fantasy. Even if it's not true, it shows how much you WANT it and that you love me so much and wish you had protected me.

Why can't we as daughters allow our mothers to be less than perfect human beings? Why do we hold them to such an unattainable expectation to be patient, kind, loving, always saying and doing the right thing?

Another example: my grandmother was a bad woman. Totally cruel. When we were little, he would tell me and my siblings that we should be "shamed" of behaviors like laughing or tickling...the kind of things that siblings do and our mother allows us to do. So we were confused by her. She has only gotten worse over the years.

At some point she told me this horrible story of her fourth pregnancy. I was excited and delighted about it. She went to the doctor and he said it was a tumor, not a pregnancy. He "removed" it and performed a complete hysterectomy. I found the story very unrealistic and went to see the doctor to be told that he had lost his license due to malpractice.

Her pettiness was unbearable, but I always clung to this image of her…images of her pregnant and my mother lovingly hugging her belly. I still feel pain from her! Physically and emotionally. It's written in my genes.

Wouldn't it be unfair to call her a "slut" for her behavior now that I know her better? Perhaps she was a prostitute, but imagine the cruelty, lies and deceit she endured. How could he expect more from her?

Why can't we as daughters allow our mothers to be less than perfect human beings? Why do we hold them to such an unattainable expectation to be patient, kind, loving, always saying and doing the right thing?

And now my daughter turns 29 today and she hasn't spoken to me in months.

A few months ago, I attended a conference in Newark, which was demographically far from me. I was scared to go there. While driving, I arranged to meet her after work, which was half an hour away and closer to New York City. I got even more scared! I wasn't the nicest person on the phone, too frantic and too self-centered ("all on me") because my instincts went into survival mode. I got a call on the street. Then, at the conference, a male moderator had to be told to stop talking about sexual issues (AT A BUSINESS CONFERENCE!!!). Yes, yes, "ALL ABOUT ME", I hear all hurt daughters say. I drove to my daughter's work, totally unfamiliar territory for me, I even got a ticket from the EZPASS for making a driving error I'm unaware of. I waited at my daughter's work and watched her work, so full of love and admiration for her! Every time she tried to say something about striving for higher achievement, higher pay, and more recognition in her career, he scared the shit out of her. I should have told her, "You're perfect just the way you are," but I thought she needed to know that every time she woke up and looked beautiful in the mirror.

The truth is, I would be so in love with her even if she was a cleaner in a diner. He would be so in love with her even if he was in prison. Being a super strong, highly paid career woman doesn't make me love her any more. And I don't know why she shouldn't know this, but I suspect maybe she doesn't. And I'm not perfect or wonderful and I always know the right thing to say at the right time and I can't even acknowledge the pain my son may have felt or possibly equate that with not caring about him because I've walked away from discussions about his success career.

Over dinner and a bottle of wine together, the conversation turned from running to rape. He told me about two rapes he suffered. One I knew because, as she said, "You saved me when you went into that public restroom and yelled at me to get out, you saved me, he raped me"... and I thought to myself that we were finally going to do this. to a healing point and I could be the one to help her heal. And she told me about the other rape that I didn't know about. And we were silenced in a restaurant and our tears were wiped away and I was so in love with this brave survivor! My hands were spread out on the table and I whispered softly, okay, okay.

But it wasn't like that. She kept saying things like "Don't you remember?" and "Do you remember what you said?" and "Do you remember what you did?" and recreated as much as I could, from my point of view of course. And then he went on to tell me that I owed him an apology and that I had to apologize. And I didn't know why.

I thought maybe she just wanted that listening ear and empathy, so I said I'm sorry these things happened...happened to her...happened to me...happened to so many. It's so terrible and so wonderful that such powerful and incredible women are changing the world right now and I'm so proud that she has the opportunity to be part of the change in this new world.

But that wasn't the excuse he was looking for. I was confused. Especially when he got up and left the restaurant, leaving me to spend the night in an unfamiliar location with no car and in a suit and high heels somewhere near New York.

She later texted me saying, "You told me I deserved to be raped." She wrote, "Beautiful," and then, "You lost a daughter tonight."

Later I researched everything about rape victims and how to advise, help or support them. And I thought a lot about how hard I was on her in her pre-teens for wearing provocative clothing and the message it sends. I sent a lengthy apology for this, explaining that I didn't want it to sound like "girls are to blame for rape culture".

...and that's where it ended. ...and now it's your 29th birthday. I wrote a text to send you using this article as a guide, but I still can't help thinking that we should be kinder to our mothers and not expect such perfection from them. I'm doing the best I can and I'm sure many others are doing the same.

(I haven't edited, corrected, or read my emotional expressions here. I've just spilled them. I apologize in advance for how insensitive or flawed it seems in any way.)

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