my mother — queen of ice, queen of mists

My mother is a complex character in my life. All abusers are. It’s their job to make no sense and to seem superficially refined.

I’ve always known there was something wrong with my father. He had temper tantrums, was smashing things, using physical and emotional violence. All his actions were pretty much overt. My mother on the other hand seemed like a helpless victim with a heart of gold. She is the queen of ice and queen of mists.

Writing and deleting this made me realize that her forte was neglect, dismissal, and withholding. She was able to convince herself and others that she was a hard-working, loving person.

Let’s try

• when we went for a hike in the forest she’d always try to lose me, by intentionally walking faster (when I was little)
• she didn’t like me being around her and she would think up things for her or for me to do so she could be away for me at home
• she was annoyed that I wanted to go with her to the church (I was afraid of my father)
• she would send me to church with my father, she knew we would likely end up in town’s cocktail bar instead
• she would ridicule/shame me in front of my family or strangers for my performance in fieldwork (which no one has taught me)
• she would use me as a living shield when she had a physical fight with my father
• she would scream my name so I rescue her from my father (6 years old)
• she would guilt me into apologizing to my father for standing up to him
• she would be distant and dismissive when I confided to her that I struggled with suicidal thoughts and was seeking her help
• she would ridicule me for getting groceries wrong even though she wouldn’t show me what certain items look like
• she would ask me to buy beer for my father (since I was 12–14)
• she asked me to call my grandmother for help when she was beaten by my father (after the incident so she had no reason to involve me in this) (7 years old)
• she would use me to do homework for her friend’s children so she had a better relationship with them
• she would express loud theatrical dissatisfaction when I didn’t mop the floors and basically clean the mess my father did while drunk
• she’d embarrass me in front of friends with things like “why didn’t you make any tea, what kind of friend are you. Don’t worry [friend’s name] I’ll bring you something tasty”
• she’d be sweet to my friends and badmouth them when they weren’t there
• she was perfectly ok with me being away (extended family holidays)
• she’d constantly make remarks about my looks, mostly how thin I’m. She compared me to “an Auschwitz kid” when I was growing up
• she’d pressure me to do things for our local priest like mowing the graveyard
• she’d be affectionate in a moment I was doing things on my own to enforce them
• she’d leave me unsupervised for hours and effectively days, months, and years to wander nearby forest (again since ~4–5 years old)
• I don’t remember a time she played with me
• I don’t remember being hugged by her
• She’d “warn” my brother’s girlfriend that my brother is a bad match for her. Generally, she’d play devil’s advocate a lot
• she burned my book about sexology when I was a teenager
• she’d imply that she’d go away and I’d taken away to an orphanage (again a little kid)
• sometimes I would watch shows with her about adopted children and she’d say things like “those poor children, look how tough they have. You should appreciate what you have!”
• she’d undermine most of my efforts and successes (having success with a website years ago or wanting to set up a small fashion brand)
• she forbid me to call the police when my father was extremally out of control (cursing, yelling for hours, smashing things)
• she’d deny everything bad she’s accused of, sometimes she’d redirect responsibility on me asking “what should I have done?”

And there’s this outside of great mother and wife. External family or neighbors intervened when my father was out of control. Noone however dared to say a word to my mother. She was and she still is this sacred untouched archetype of mother and wife who sacrificed so much.

Being in my 30s I know now she did almost nothing. She has her stories, her charm. But in reality, she is long gone. I thought my father's aggression had something to do with it. Maybe it had. But I also believe she was long gone before I was born. She despises everything motherhood is (at least in my narrow men’s understanding) but reaps all the rewards of it.

My wish is to get free of her. My wish is for my hope of her to die. Because she was never a mother to me.