the mother of all abuse

To be or not to be, that is the question before me. How do I get past the sexual abuse by my mother, who was the one who took me to the priest, who furthered the cycle and began my madness in full? What kind of madness is it which refuses to be a pawn of the dark forces within the narcissistic carnal mind?

If I stay mad, then they will win and that must not be. My mere survival is a testament, though, because I was set up to self-destruct. When my mother gave smiling assent to the idea that it would be better for children whose biological parents had mental illness to be aborted because it was so hard on the adopted families to have mentally ill children, it sealed her fate. This was full circle.

I was defective and it would have been better had I not been born–not to my birth mother, not to become her child. So, what to do with that type of mindset?

Do I go crazy over it or do I just take it? I soldier on in the battle to have a life outside of this toxic family unit. Even now, it just seems that my madness is to be expected as a genetic abnormality and will never be cured.

The only cure I have found is with the Divine Physician, who can and does heal souls. It is my soul which is in need of healing most of all, it seems. My mother did not believe I had a soul or a Higher Power and it enraged her that I did not take her as my Higher Power. She called herself “the Great Motivator” of my life and now I disavow myself of that kind of negative inspiration, because it will cause my expiration.

My date with destiny is here and now. I come to the page with my wounds because it seems I am not alone. A study of female prison populations showed that the most intractable women with the highest recidivism rates and worst violence were those who had been sexually abused by their mothers, according to a friend who knew the researcher. All I know is that sexual abuse by one’s mother sets one up to never trust anyone ever.

The nurturer-in-chief becomes the vampire of the soul and the sole reason for anger against God. How could He put me in such a home with such a woman? How would I ever have the chance at a normal life? Indeed. How could I?

I cannot and I am not even supposed to try, it seems. I have to have a supernatural life or none at all because the stakes are that high. The stake that stabbed through my heart to try to kill me off one way or the other, remains. I have to give it to the one who does love me, the one who is my Saviour and Lord. I am here for a reason and my deceased mother cannot take that away. I can honor my mother and father in my own way, for they accomplished much in their lives and they did raise me. My mother said that the thing she was most proud of as a mother was that she raised two literate children.

So, this is for you Mom. I can write about this wound, this stigma and we can both be healed of it because the cycle stops here. I will not continue the abuse. I refuse to be an abuser and that is that. It begins with stopping the abuse of my soul, who is my inner child and for whom I pray God will heal. The awful legacy my mother tried to give to me will terminate here, forever, by the grace of God and the blessed Mary, who remains as the invisible friend I had as a child.

I now have the weapon to combat this evil, this energy veil of narcissism which enshrouds my soul. It is the holy rosary, which binds me to God Himself. Thank You, O God! Amen.

 

 

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