Very well written article, Sabrina! My dad is my preferred parent as well. I would have liked him more if he didn't defend my mom so much. Argh yeah I really detest guilt-tripping. I also stopped hoping she would change her attitude and behaviour. So I just avoid conflict and avoid her as much as possible. Every time I dared to speak up against her, she would get upset or cry, and my dad would tell me to calm down and not blow things out of proportion. Ugh! His dismissal of my feelings was terrible. Though he's just anxious about intense feelings in general, so it wasn't about me in particular.
But yeah it's so fraught to navigate such emotional territory with your parents. My mother also made me feel like I was a selfish and cold-hearted person for the longest time. To this day, I still cannot call myself a good person, because of just how much messed up brainwashing my mom gave me. Anyway not saying my mom is exactly the same as yours. But I can empathize with that guilt tripping and general terrible treatment. My mom claims she loves me but even if she does, it's a very warped and narcissistic kind of love!
Ah Sieran, so much of what you wrote resonated. It's so tough and painful when there is this conditional, controlling aspect to that primary love we're exposed to. It colours how we see every other relationship we have, including the one with ourselves.
I've spent so much time working through self-hate and minimising myself, becoming a people-pleaser and perfectionist so I wouldn't stress mum out when I was younger. I see this pattern often in others. When our needs aren't met, we don't make the healthiest conclusions for how to act.
So sorry you don't feel supported by your dad when your mum kicks off. Many people can't deal with that kind of conflict and they believe keeping the peace is fixing things, but it doesn't. Earlier in my life, dad did more of that, but we became closer over the years as he saw the impact on me. I hope your dad can offer you that too, but you're so resilient after everything you've been through. Thanks for reading and sharing.
Oh, how deeply painful this experience sounds, Sabrina. You make us feel it in our bones. And I'm sure you've worked through a lot of it to be able to write this. And sharing it will help others see that we're not alone. Which is very comforting but not enough to soothe us fully.
And thanks for saying how important it is to find a way through. As you say, art-journaling worked for you. Writing, journaling, and art helped me too, but I was lucky to not have anywhere near the grief you describe as my mother's passing was relatively easy.
Thank you for your courage in writing such a beautiful piece. And sending you warm hugs. We are here for you.
Wow I so appreciate your thoughts and words Jeanette. Expressing our joyous and hardest moments has been more enlightening than I realised. It brings us closer as we're all contemplating what happens in our lives and how to make some kind of peace with it.
I've spent decades holding much of myself in, aside from the erratic emotional parts that yearn to be noticed.
Having a more structured approach, like art, writing, music etc takes the heat down, and helps us make sense of it. Here for your journey too.
Journalling,letting her big, bad, ugly parts of you out is more soothing than any dummy a baby ever had.
Speaking g of soothing, the very act of putting something that tastes good in your mouth, also soothes. It goes way back to us being g babies at the breast. My faves when grieving at 5 out of 10 were raspberries, blueberries,mangoes.
When grief was fresher, I let a lot of chocolate be .y pacifier.
Sabrina, thank you for ripping back the curtain to allow us a glimpse of your grief. It's such a personal space, yet somehow familiar.
Sitting in the muck of grief is paralyzing. As you mentioned it's important if you want to ever truly heal. The challenge is that it's not one 'muck event'. You don't ever 'get over' trauma. You work through and find a new way to move forward.
The 'letting go' and 'forgiveness' parts can seem elusive. How do you forgive someone who caused you so much heartache? It's very difficult to understand that sometimes - people - even our parents - simply are ill equipped to parent.
I am holding you in my heart. Your article is raw, moving and so brave. It's for you. You have every right to be healthy and happy regardless of what's happened or happening. Biggest hugs ❤️
Thanks as always Janet for your kindness, compassion and openness to life's muck! It's such a confusing space to be in when your parent is a source of sadness but you have sadness for them too. It cancels each other out, so things remain unsatisfyingly unresolved. Our grief and trauma become part of our life tapestry - like a hole that is patched up. It looks 'fixed' but we know what's beneath. Hugs back to you too!
Sabrina, thank you for this piece. You’ve allowed us into the rawest of emotions and taken us straight there with every word. Losing a parent brings so many conflicting feelings. May you find peace in your writing. 💜
Thanks for your kind words Michelle. Means a lot to share and feel understood when we hold these conflicts so close to who we are. Writing and publishing has been such a therapy for me and such a wonderful community here for us.
Sabrina, Thank you for sharing your story with us. Your perspective and advice will no doubt be helpful to those of us who have lost love ones. After my father’s permutation came to an end I began to feel closer to him in ways that words can’t explain. A persons development in life and perspective at the time of losing a loved one has a major effect on the way they process the event. It’s important to teach our younger selves that life is cyclical. It’s important to teach them that we can search inside ourselves and begin a new kind of closeness and relationship with all the emotions and memories we retain of the person who has passed.
Thanks so much for sharing your experience - interesting how you felt closer after your father left.
Grief and bereavement has the power to fundamentally shift who we are. It rocks us to our core, our identity and where we exist in the world moving forward.
Knowing life is cyclical gives some comfort doesn't it?
Introspection and remembering those we've lost keeps them alive. That is a true legacy. That we are remembered long after we leave.
Your gut level honesty is astonishing. My heart goes out to you. And…I love the dining room table metaphor. Can identify with it entirely! Your piece takes me back to the loss of own father nearly 40 years ago. Thank you for this.
Oh, I felt this one in my soul. I had no idea that losing one parent to Alzheimer's would also mean losing both - and how much it would hurt when the one left would turn into a different person, too. I had a very complex relationship with my mum and have resigned myself to never getting clarity on that and going on a "self mothering" journey, but losing my dad while he's also still here has hit hard on a totally different and unexpected level, too. I've never felt so alone and misunderstood in the world.
Although our experiences are so different and I can't even begin to imagine how you feel, I feel so much solace in your words, too. Thank you for writing this piece and going to the hard places many people can't even dare access, let alone put words to. I know it isn't easy but I for one am incredibly grateful. Sending so much love your way!
Your journey is a hard road. Sometimes, when you really need the man your dad used to be, talk about your earliest memories with him. Hopefully, there will be a small spark to keep you going. If not, it makes us happy to dwell in past for a few minutes each day, just go for the good times.
Thank you so much for these kind words, Therese. It sure has been a hard road - that’s a good way of putting it. I know it’s a tough journey for all of us in our own individual ways and I trust that he’s doing his absolute best and coping the best he can for now and will come back around. I’m definitely grateful for all the good times we have had, though! It really helps keep that spark alive to think about them. Really appreciate that perspective!
Thanks Cassie for sharing these difficult parts and the complexity of our parental relationships. It adds another layer when your dad is still here but not quite here - so sorry you've felt alone and misunderstood and I hope you find comfort to reconcile this.
I'm glad sharing my difficulties allows us to build a bridge between these complex experiences - it's curious isn't it that talking about our alone-ness with others creates connection. It's one of the best things I've discovered by writing and sharing online - we have more in common than we realise, even if the situations aren't exactly the same.
Sending you hugs and much, much love through such a complex experience with your folks x
I read this very slowly Sabrina. It felt like the right thing to do.
Firstly I would like to say I am so happy you had so many wonderful years with your Pa. Having him in your corner is something you can treasure forever. Enjoy those fabulous memories.
So appreciate your comment and respect in reading my story. I have great memories with him that are so encouraging and fun. And the love I have for nature and animals. I have some with mum too but they don't feel the same - still a cloud linked to those. More to explore there for sure.
Wow, Sabrina. This is beautiful. I'm speechless at the depths you take us through allowing us to see a little of your journey. My heart breaks with you in your pain and my joy is also with you as you work through this giving you an attitude of hope which you readily share with us in your takeaways. Thank you!
Thank you always for your support and empathy Michael. You really brighten up my day. Helps to have a community we can share our hardest experiences with.
Sabrina an absolutely well written and beautiful article. I hesitated to touch on any of this during our podcast but your pain is clear and visceral. It's not easy losing someone you love. That sense of loss feels so tragic. I haven't experienced this though one day I know I have to. Beautifully expressed, intricately shared. Thank you for sharing your deepest thoughts. It's an honor to read them.
Ahh Aishwarya, I so appreciate your kind words. It’s really the hardest experience, whatever the type of relationship. It throws up a lot of different conflicting feelings and thoughts.
Sabrina, first, I am so sorry for your loss. Grief is challenging and affects us all very differently. You have tackled this terrible experience in the most honest and beautifully written article. Thank you for sharing.
Wow, so beautifully written and so heartfelt. Thank you for sharing this. (Also, I didn't know your family is Bangladeshi. You've got a fellow Bangladeshi in me 👋🏽).
Thanks for reading Noor. Cool, another Bangladeshi! Not many of us floating around. Enjoy your publication and hearing about the transformation from law to fiction 🙌
This is beautiful! I found you through your writing summit comment and I'm glad I did. I've been struggling this month with the anniversary of my mother's death. August is always hard. My family thought it would be for sure my Dad that passed first, but it was my Mom. We were not prepared for that, and even though it happened 19 years ago, the wounds of being left with the "wrong parent." are still there. My Dad passed away 11 years after my Mom and he was a handful up until then, lol.
Hi Shelby, so glad you found me and thank you for your story. I always thought mum would go first too as she has had so many health issues. Dad went really fast which added to the shock of it all. Sorry to hear you've lost both now. You make a great point about feeling the anniversary- I'm planning an article for that topic. Dad passed in November so I find year end really hard still.
I notice I throw myself into work more so we need to keep an eye on those drivers.
Thank you! I spent some time reading through some of your articles earlier this morning. I found them both helpful and inspirational. I especially appreciate you sharing your stories on difficult topics. I'll keep your publication in mind for my resource list in future articles. One thing I will point out about peri is that it may magnify difficulties from the past. You have a lot of tools now that will be helpful and will serve you well through the transition.
You're the incredible coach but I've hatched a plan.
Why?
Because I've gone through half a tissue box crying for you, your mum your dad, your ahole brothers, me,
and my ma and pa too.
I wanna hug you and pat your great hair and tell you it's okay.
I would like you to handwrite all the wonderful memories of you and your Dad, when your Mum was or wasn't there.
An even 50 would be good.
Address this long letter to your Mum and begin with the big 50.
Then explain how Drs knew you were the stron one, the one they could talk about your Dad's condition with.
Say how you tried to protect your family from that awful, bad, horrendously real diagnosis. Tell her how much that tore you in too.
Tell her you love her.
Tell her you hope her pain and grief for what was is easing now.
End by saying you will call her soon, a promise.
Post it with some small trinket or tasty sweet your mum would like, a scarf,
a piece of cheapish jewellery, a candle-whatever.
Post, snail mail, si it surprises her. Put an arty greeting card in too, to say you've been thinking of her.
With parents with 5 gazillion ailments in their 90s, I would set up my call home with snacks, sweets, nuts, a large glass of wine, and a fresh magazine.
I would listen to their whining and complaints with half an ear while browsing. I would always start with hello mum, how are you? I'd interject with positive sounds, and after 20 minutes tell my own news or what was happening with the grandchildren.
We tend to take on too many of our parents complaints, but they need to eject them.
So grab a distraction
Browse away
End with words of love and an old signoff from childhood goodnight.
Then, maybe, maybe,
The real soul healing can start.
And, if your Mum interjects with a rebuke you have another call, or a client coming, or a crisis in the kitchen. Cut the convo short, but still end with love. We never know if they will be our last words to the woman who loved you first of all, so make them good words. Mean the words.
Thanks Therese for your insightful comments and these suggestions. These suggestions are so good - I'm already considering how and where to collect the memories of dad and where I want to keep them. To honour his memory and our connection together.
I think a letter to mum is likely the best approach - she's tried to reach out again but it still feels hard after many of the things she's said to me recently.
Hurt people hurt people, I guess.
I get a sense she treats me like I don't feel a thing because I go into disconnected stoic mode in my interactions with her. She pushes me more than anyone else and now she's pushed too far.
She's not used to it and is flailing. I do have compassion for her but my personal pain is clouding my ability to forgive fully just yet.
Relationships are tricky. But this has initiated an idea for a new post - the trouble or difficulties with forgiveness perhaps.
A distraction during the whining is a common theme - my friends do the same!
I do worry about these being our final words and interactions. I somehow need to reconcile the pain of my inner child and being the bigger person now.
I probably oversimplified everything. My best friend is from a very traditional Italian family, only daughter with 6 brothers, Her Mum has always devalued her. When the Dr told her she had a daughter she cried, only wanting more boys. But my darling friend takes her to appointments and brings her things, goes shopping and runs in rings for her. I told her that next time she criticizes her she was to pull the car over and just sit in it silently at the side of the road. She did this, refusing to look at her Mum. After four minutes she said a sort of apology of "I didn't mean that, what I said." My dear friend drove on, dropped her off at the nursing home, said goodbye and left. It seemed to get the message across.
I think with your Mum she has never got to decide her own life. All major decisions were out of her hands. Marrying someone after 2 meetings, then having to submit to all their whims and sexual needs without actually knowing them at all would feel like rape. Being uprooted and sent off to live in another country as a poor relation to do what she could so young. All that must have been horribly hard on her. She must have wished for something, anything better. She tells you awful things because you are the strong and independent one in the family. Your stoicism is admirable; it's something she never had a chance to be. All that pain she feels must have come from feeling like a pawn in someone else's chess game all her life. She was a victim and can't escape that victim mentality now, it is just too ingrained.
Sorry if I'm preaching to you. I have no right. But I think you could come together with some old reminiscing of old times with your dad, family times where big meals were shared and sat around laughing, edit all those special bits. they become something to bond over. Even looking at old photo albums together.
Her saying sorry to you is impossible, but reconciliation of some kind will make her pain less, because it is fueled by angst.
And if she starts dredging up uncomfortable thoughts and ideas that you don't want, think of a quick excuse to cut the conversation off quickly.
I'm glad I'm not the only one who tunes out when my parents were doing their weekly whining.
My Dad was a phone hog, a big talker like me. I told him we had 5 bushfires on and around our farm on the 10th of December 2020, and he was so busy not listening but thinking only of what he was going to say next that he didn't even realize we were threatened by a blaze that lasted 6 weeks after a 3 year drought. A blaze that could have burned our second home down, if only the ground had anything left to burn on it. I mentioned the fire and he started yapping about the fires around where he lived, no threat at all in a house between a creek and Australia's largest lake at all. I didn't ring back for a week, and he was surprised and told me I'd never told him.
These things happen, but really. If you don't make some kind of peace, it's a bit of a rat nibbling away at you; a rat you can never quite flick off.
Another friend had a horrid mother, she moved 5 hours away from her so she wouldn't ring her ten times a day and come and stay in the house for hours just to talk to her each day, largely unwanted. Yet, my dear Carme was completely devastated when she passed away in March.
Make some kind of peace. The old olive branch works even when you don't quite feel like it. But, I guarantee, she will want to reminisce about old times, good old times with you and your family, especially talking about your dad. It is a way in. Not full hugs and tears and forgiveness maybe, but a really good starting point.
I wrote a little poem about a fight I had with husband a week ago. I'll post that in notes and hope it helps you a tiny bit. love, Therese x
It’s these moments where our childlike admiration of our parents are shattered, and the more and more we see them as mere humans who are also just trying to do the best they can and cope with their particular “flavor” of life challenges and pain.
As we become adults ourselves, establishing our own identities and choices in life, we in contrast see how our parents are also flawed in their own ways and childlike in their own mannerisms.
They’re not strong and infallible.
They don’t have all the answers.
They’re not always right.
They can’t be there for us in the way we need.
It’s in these moments where we become “more” than our parents—learning our own strengths and developing the skills we need to cope and thrive. It absolutely sucks but it’s a one of the last rites of passage in adulthood—the role reversal where we have become the “adult figures” as they are the “children” we need to take care of.
Who you’ve become is evident in your writing, and shines brightly as you vulnerably shared your story, Sabrina. Your father has left behind wonderful gifts for you. Your mom has also given you gifts in a different way—undesirable ones but valuable life lessons, nonetheless.
I celebrate you, and thank you for sharing your story and lessons, along with being who you are.
Thank you Kat for such an insightful and observant comment. You're right about this rite of passage, moving us from child to adult. It's a complex process and often takes years to fully complete.
It helps to see mum as a rounded person, as much as I can based on our history. She is not fully one thing or the other, as are we all, but it's useful to accept the reality of things as they are.
It doesn't mean it won't change again, but keeps us curious and compassionate.
Thanks for supporting me on this journey of sharing who we are!
Very well written article, Sabrina! My dad is my preferred parent as well. I would have liked him more if he didn't defend my mom so much. Argh yeah I really detest guilt-tripping. I also stopped hoping she would change her attitude and behaviour. So I just avoid conflict and avoid her as much as possible. Every time I dared to speak up against her, she would get upset or cry, and my dad would tell me to calm down and not blow things out of proportion. Ugh! His dismissal of my feelings was terrible. Though he's just anxious about intense feelings in general, so it wasn't about me in particular.
But yeah it's so fraught to navigate such emotional territory with your parents. My mother also made me feel like I was a selfish and cold-hearted person for the longest time. To this day, I still cannot call myself a good person, because of just how much messed up brainwashing my mom gave me. Anyway not saying my mom is exactly the same as yours. But I can empathize with that guilt tripping and general terrible treatment. My mom claims she loves me but even if she does, it's a very warped and narcissistic kind of love!
Ah Sieran, so much of what you wrote resonated. It's so tough and painful when there is this conditional, controlling aspect to that primary love we're exposed to. It colours how we see every other relationship we have, including the one with ourselves.
I've spent so much time working through self-hate and minimising myself, becoming a people-pleaser and perfectionist so I wouldn't stress mum out when I was younger. I see this pattern often in others. When our needs aren't met, we don't make the healthiest conclusions for how to act.
So sorry you don't feel supported by your dad when your mum kicks off. Many people can't deal with that kind of conflict and they believe keeping the peace is fixing things, but it doesn't. Earlier in my life, dad did more of that, but we became closer over the years as he saw the impact on me. I hope your dad can offer you that too, but you're so resilient after everything you've been through. Thanks for reading and sharing.
Oh, how deeply painful this experience sounds, Sabrina. You make us feel it in our bones. And I'm sure you've worked through a lot of it to be able to write this. And sharing it will help others see that we're not alone. Which is very comforting but not enough to soothe us fully.
And thanks for saying how important it is to find a way through. As you say, art-journaling worked for you. Writing, journaling, and art helped me too, but I was lucky to not have anywhere near the grief you describe as my mother's passing was relatively easy.
Thank you for your courage in writing such a beautiful piece. And sending you warm hugs. We are here for you.
Wow I so appreciate your thoughts and words Jeanette. Expressing our joyous and hardest moments has been more enlightening than I realised. It brings us closer as we're all contemplating what happens in our lives and how to make some kind of peace with it.
I've spent decades holding much of myself in, aside from the erratic emotional parts that yearn to be noticed.
Having a more structured approach, like art, writing, music etc takes the heat down, and helps us make sense of it. Here for your journey too.
Journalling,letting her big, bad, ugly parts of you out is more soothing than any dummy a baby ever had.
Speaking g of soothing, the very act of putting something that tastes good in your mouth, also soothes. It goes way back to us being g babies at the breast. My faves when grieving at 5 out of 10 were raspberries, blueberries,mangoes.
When grief was fresher, I let a lot of chocolate be .y pacifier.
Sabrina, thank you for ripping back the curtain to allow us a glimpse of your grief. It's such a personal space, yet somehow familiar.
Sitting in the muck of grief is paralyzing. As you mentioned it's important if you want to ever truly heal. The challenge is that it's not one 'muck event'. You don't ever 'get over' trauma. You work through and find a new way to move forward.
The 'letting go' and 'forgiveness' parts can seem elusive. How do you forgive someone who caused you so much heartache? It's very difficult to understand that sometimes - people - even our parents - simply are ill equipped to parent.
I am holding you in my heart. Your article is raw, moving and so brave. It's for you. You have every right to be healthy and happy regardless of what's happened or happening. Biggest hugs ❤️
Thanks as always Janet for your kindness, compassion and openness to life's muck! It's such a confusing space to be in when your parent is a source of sadness but you have sadness for them too. It cancels each other out, so things remain unsatisfyingly unresolved. Our grief and trauma become part of our life tapestry - like a hole that is patched up. It looks 'fixed' but we know what's beneath. Hugs back to you too!
So very true Sabrina. I love how the phrase 'life tapestry'. Captures the complexity of the human condition.
Big hugs and much love ❤️
It's so true. I loved your use of mosaic recently too. We are a collection of our diverse experiences - from inside and out. x
Truth XX
There's a giant pile of stinky muck in everyone's life.
We just have to zip our boots up and step over that shit.
skip, hop and jump over the stinky muck! Sometimes we trudge through it too but it'll wash off
Sabrina, thank you for this piece. You’ve allowed us into the rawest of emotions and taken us straight there with every word. Losing a parent brings so many conflicting feelings. May you find peace in your writing. 💜
Thanks for your kind words Michelle. Means a lot to share and feel understood when we hold these conflicts so close to who we are. Writing and publishing has been such a therapy for me and such a wonderful community here for us.
Sabrina, Thank you for sharing your story with us. Your perspective and advice will no doubt be helpful to those of us who have lost love ones. After my father’s permutation came to an end I began to feel closer to him in ways that words can’t explain. A persons development in life and perspective at the time of losing a loved one has a major effect on the way they process the event. It’s important to teach our younger selves that life is cyclical. It’s important to teach them that we can search inside ourselves and begin a new kind of closeness and relationship with all the emotions and memories we retain of the person who has passed.
Thanks so much for sharing your experience - interesting how you felt closer after your father left.
Grief and bereavement has the power to fundamentally shift who we are. It rocks us to our core, our identity and where we exist in the world moving forward.
Knowing life is cyclical gives some comfort doesn't it?
Introspection and remembering those we've lost keeps them alive. That is a true legacy. That we are remembered long after we leave.
Your gut level honesty is astonishing. My heart goes out to you. And…I love the dining room table metaphor. Can identify with it entirely! Your piece takes me back to the loss of own father nearly 40 years ago. Thank you for this.
Thanks for reading Curt! The dining table metaphor is so accessible isn't it? Sending you many hugs and warm wishes to the memory of your father.
Oh, I felt this one in my soul. I had no idea that losing one parent to Alzheimer's would also mean losing both - and how much it would hurt when the one left would turn into a different person, too. I had a very complex relationship with my mum and have resigned myself to never getting clarity on that and going on a "self mothering" journey, but losing my dad while he's also still here has hit hard on a totally different and unexpected level, too. I've never felt so alone and misunderstood in the world.
Although our experiences are so different and I can't even begin to imagine how you feel, I feel so much solace in your words, too. Thank you for writing this piece and going to the hard places many people can't even dare access, let alone put words to. I know it isn't easy but I for one am incredibly grateful. Sending so much love your way!
Your journey is a hard road. Sometimes, when you really need the man your dad used to be, talk about your earliest memories with him. Hopefully, there will be a small spark to keep you going. If not, it makes us happy to dwell in past for a few minutes each day, just go for the good times.
Thank you so much for these kind words, Therese. It sure has been a hard road - that’s a good way of putting it. I know it’s a tough journey for all of us in our own individual ways and I trust that he’s doing his absolute best and coping the best he can for now and will come back around. I’m definitely grateful for all the good times we have had, though! It really helps keep that spark alive to think about them. Really appreciate that perspective!
Thanks Cassie for sharing these difficult parts and the complexity of our parental relationships. It adds another layer when your dad is still here but not quite here - so sorry you've felt alone and misunderstood and I hope you find comfort to reconcile this.
I'm glad sharing my difficulties allows us to build a bridge between these complex experiences - it's curious isn't it that talking about our alone-ness with others creates connection. It's one of the best things I've discovered by writing and sharing online - we have more in common than we realise, even if the situations aren't exactly the same.
Sending you hugs and much, much love through such a complex experience with your folks x
I read this very slowly Sabrina. It felt like the right thing to do.
Firstly I would like to say I am so happy you had so many wonderful years with your Pa. Having him in your corner is something you can treasure forever. Enjoy those fabulous memories.
I am sorry for your loss.
So appreciate your comment and respect in reading my story. I have great memories with him that are so encouraging and fun. And the love I have for nature and animals. I have some with mum too but they don't feel the same - still a cloud linked to those. More to explore there for sure.
Wow, Sabrina. This is beautiful. I'm speechless at the depths you take us through allowing us to see a little of your journey. My heart breaks with you in your pain and my joy is also with you as you work through this giving you an attitude of hope which you readily share with us in your takeaways. Thank you!
Thank you always for your support and empathy Michael. You really brighten up my day. Helps to have a community we can share our hardest experiences with.
Sabrina an absolutely well written and beautiful article. I hesitated to touch on any of this during our podcast but your pain is clear and visceral. It's not easy losing someone you love. That sense of loss feels so tragic. I haven't experienced this though one day I know I have to. Beautifully expressed, intricately shared. Thank you for sharing your deepest thoughts. It's an honor to read them.
Ahh Aishwarya, I so appreciate your kind words. It’s really the hardest experience, whatever the type of relationship. It throws up a lot of different conflicting feelings and thoughts.
I always learn something new when I reflect.
Thanks for your support!
Sabrina, first, I am so sorry for your loss. Grief is challenging and affects us all very differently. You have tackled this terrible experience in the most honest and beautifully written article. Thank you for sharing.
Thanks for reading and your kind note Jana. It was tough to write but so needed.
I know others struggle with this conflict too 💜
Wow, so beautifully written and so heartfelt. Thank you for sharing this. (Also, I didn't know your family is Bangladeshi. You've got a fellow Bangladeshi in me 👋🏽).
Thanks for reading Noor. Cool, another Bangladeshi! Not many of us floating around. Enjoy your publication and hearing about the transformation from law to fiction 🙌
This is beautiful! I found you through your writing summit comment and I'm glad I did. I've been struggling this month with the anniversary of my mother's death. August is always hard. My family thought it would be for sure my Dad that passed first, but it was my Mom. We were not prepared for that, and even though it happened 19 years ago, the wounds of being left with the "wrong parent." are still there. My Dad passed away 11 years after my Mom and he was a handful up until then, lol.
Hi Shelby, so glad you found me and thank you for your story. I always thought mum would go first too as she has had so many health issues. Dad went really fast which added to the shock of it all. Sorry to hear you've lost both now. You make a great point about feeling the anniversary- I'm planning an article for that topic. Dad passed in November so I find year end really hard still.
I notice I throw myself into work more so we need to keep an eye on those drivers.
I look forward to what you have to say about this and future topics. I subscribed so I won’t miss anything.
Wheee thank you! I've subscribed to you too - I'm definitely in that peri phase. Keen to learn more!
Thank you! I spent some time reading through some of your articles earlier this morning. I found them both helpful and inspirational. I especially appreciate you sharing your stories on difficult topics. I'll keep your publication in mind for my resource list in future articles. One thing I will point out about peri is that it may magnify difficulties from the past. You have a lot of tools now that will be helpful and will serve you well through the transition.
Thanks for highlighting that Shelby.
Often we don't know why the past comes back to haunt us. Useful to know this might be a factor.
Thanks for reading my other work!
You're the incredible coach but I've hatched a plan.
Why?
Because I've gone through half a tissue box crying for you, your mum your dad, your ahole brothers, me,
and my ma and pa too.
I wanna hug you and pat your great hair and tell you it's okay.
I would like you to handwrite all the wonderful memories of you and your Dad, when your Mum was or wasn't there.
An even 50 would be good.
Address this long letter to your Mum and begin with the big 50.
Then explain how Drs knew you were the stron one, the one they could talk about your Dad's condition with.
Say how you tried to protect your family from that awful, bad, horrendously real diagnosis. Tell her how much that tore you in too.
Tell her you love her.
Tell her you hope her pain and grief for what was is easing now.
End by saying you will call her soon, a promise.
Post it with some small trinket or tasty sweet your mum would like, a scarf,
a piece of cheapish jewellery, a candle-whatever.
Post, snail mail, si it surprises her. Put an arty greeting card in too, to say you've been thinking of her.
With parents with 5 gazillion ailments in their 90s, I would set up my call home with snacks, sweets, nuts, a large glass of wine, and a fresh magazine.
I would listen to their whining and complaints with half an ear while browsing. I would always start with hello mum, how are you? I'd interject with positive sounds, and after 20 minutes tell my own news or what was happening with the grandchildren.
We tend to take on too many of our parents complaints, but they need to eject them.
So grab a distraction
Browse away
End with words of love and an old signoff from childhood goodnight.
Then, maybe, maybe,
The real soul healing can start.
And, if your Mum interjects with a rebuke you have another call, or a client coming, or a crisis in the kitchen. Cut the convo short, but still end with love. We never know if they will be our last words to the woman who loved you first of all, so make them good words. Mean the words.
It will be okay.
Thanks Therese for your insightful comments and these suggestions. These suggestions are so good - I'm already considering how and where to collect the memories of dad and where I want to keep them. To honour his memory and our connection together.
I think a letter to mum is likely the best approach - she's tried to reach out again but it still feels hard after many of the things she's said to me recently.
Hurt people hurt people, I guess.
I get a sense she treats me like I don't feel a thing because I go into disconnected stoic mode in my interactions with her. She pushes me more than anyone else and now she's pushed too far.
She's not used to it and is flailing. I do have compassion for her but my personal pain is clouding my ability to forgive fully just yet.
Relationships are tricky. But this has initiated an idea for a new post - the trouble or difficulties with forgiveness perhaps.
A distraction during the whining is a common theme - my friends do the same!
I do worry about these being our final words and interactions. I somehow need to reconcile the pain of my inner child and being the bigger person now.
Much to ponder. x
I probably oversimplified everything. My best friend is from a very traditional Italian family, only daughter with 6 brothers, Her Mum has always devalued her. When the Dr told her she had a daughter she cried, only wanting more boys. But my darling friend takes her to appointments and brings her things, goes shopping and runs in rings for her. I told her that next time she criticizes her she was to pull the car over and just sit in it silently at the side of the road. She did this, refusing to look at her Mum. After four minutes she said a sort of apology of "I didn't mean that, what I said." My dear friend drove on, dropped her off at the nursing home, said goodbye and left. It seemed to get the message across.
I think with your Mum she has never got to decide her own life. All major decisions were out of her hands. Marrying someone after 2 meetings, then having to submit to all their whims and sexual needs without actually knowing them at all would feel like rape. Being uprooted and sent off to live in another country as a poor relation to do what she could so young. All that must have been horribly hard on her. She must have wished for something, anything better. She tells you awful things because you are the strong and independent one in the family. Your stoicism is admirable; it's something she never had a chance to be. All that pain she feels must have come from feeling like a pawn in someone else's chess game all her life. She was a victim and can't escape that victim mentality now, it is just too ingrained.
Sorry if I'm preaching to you. I have no right. But I think you could come together with some old reminiscing of old times with your dad, family times where big meals were shared and sat around laughing, edit all those special bits. they become something to bond over. Even looking at old photo albums together.
Her saying sorry to you is impossible, but reconciliation of some kind will make her pain less, because it is fueled by angst.
And if she starts dredging up uncomfortable thoughts and ideas that you don't want, think of a quick excuse to cut the conversation off quickly.
I'm glad I'm not the only one who tunes out when my parents were doing their weekly whining.
My Dad was a phone hog, a big talker like me. I told him we had 5 bushfires on and around our farm on the 10th of December 2020, and he was so busy not listening but thinking only of what he was going to say next that he didn't even realize we were threatened by a blaze that lasted 6 weeks after a 3 year drought. A blaze that could have burned our second home down, if only the ground had anything left to burn on it. I mentioned the fire and he started yapping about the fires around where he lived, no threat at all in a house between a creek and Australia's largest lake at all. I didn't ring back for a week, and he was surprised and told me I'd never told him.
These things happen, but really. If you don't make some kind of peace, it's a bit of a rat nibbling away at you; a rat you can never quite flick off.
Another friend had a horrid mother, she moved 5 hours away from her so she wouldn't ring her ten times a day and come and stay in the house for hours just to talk to her each day, largely unwanted. Yet, my dear Carme was completely devastated when she passed away in March.
Make some kind of peace. The old olive branch works even when you don't quite feel like it. But, I guarantee, she will want to reminisce about old times, good old times with you and your family, especially talking about your dad. It is a way in. Not full hugs and tears and forgiveness maybe, but a really good starting point.
I wrote a little poem about a fight I had with husband a week ago. I'll post that in notes and hope it helps you a tiny bit. love, Therese x
It’s these moments where our childlike admiration of our parents are shattered, and the more and more we see them as mere humans who are also just trying to do the best they can and cope with their particular “flavor” of life challenges and pain.
As we become adults ourselves, establishing our own identities and choices in life, we in contrast see how our parents are also flawed in their own ways and childlike in their own mannerisms.
They’re not strong and infallible.
They don’t have all the answers.
They’re not always right.
They can’t be there for us in the way we need.
It’s in these moments where we become “more” than our parents—learning our own strengths and developing the skills we need to cope and thrive. It absolutely sucks but it’s a one of the last rites of passage in adulthood—the role reversal where we have become the “adult figures” as they are the “children” we need to take care of.
Who you’ve become is evident in your writing, and shines brightly as you vulnerably shared your story, Sabrina. Your father has left behind wonderful gifts for you. Your mom has also given you gifts in a different way—undesirable ones but valuable life lessons, nonetheless.
I celebrate you, and thank you for sharing your story and lessons, along with being who you are.
Thank you Kat for such an insightful and observant comment. You're right about this rite of passage, moving us from child to adult. It's a complex process and often takes years to fully complete.
It helps to see mum as a rounded person, as much as I can based on our history. She is not fully one thing or the other, as are we all, but it's useful to accept the reality of things as they are.
It doesn't mean it won't change again, but keeps us curious and compassionate.
Thanks for supporting me on this journey of sharing who we are!
Simply brilliant Sabrina. Deep, bold and touching!!!
Thanks for reading Tariq. I'm glad it came across like that! Not easy but necessary!