My mother doesn’t know why women cry about being raped.

[TruthSeeker]

A store employee mentioned they knew of my trauma history from a newspaper. I am “that girl.” Told me their opinions. Fairly degrading. I left and -la while later it caught up with me and I was crying. My mother called. I stupidly answered the phone.

“I don’t know why you would cry about that. Why would you be crying?”

I was furious. “You really don’t know why someone would cry about rape and kidnapping? Are you serious?!?”

“Why are you now angry at me?!”

“Because I’m super crazy idiot who is mentally ill.”

I hung up and texted her about why women cry about rape and kidnapping.

She responded well I wasn’t there and I don’t know the details of your rape and I don’t know what you would cry about it.

The perp was convicted. She was there when he confessed to all the details.

Several rounds of texts and she kept asking why would I cry about it. I told her go get a therapist to tell you. I even told her I cry because I’m mentally ill. I started listing insults about myself. I don’t know why. I think I just lost it.

She kept going. Kept asking what is wrong with me because she wouldn’t cry. I told her I don’t care what she would do.

I replied to ask why she has no empathy? Why is she cruel? Why has she deemed no woman should ever be given a moment to cry because she must witness the rape first hand before she will understand why a woman cries when reminded of it. I started asking her back if she is a sociopath and that’s why she has no empathy.
Ok soo this was not a functional interaction. I have no plans for further contact at this time.

But I can’t seem to find a way to handle this. Before I usually just ended contact when she gets this nasty like this. It’s not a “help me understand” question. She has said before that she does this to try to help me understand that the problem is me and then I would ever cry about it because it doesn’t change anything and she has to be able to see the trauma happen because she so stupi she has said before that she does this to try to help me understand that the problem is me and then I would ever cry about it because it doesn’t change anything and she has to be able to see the trauma happen before she can validate that a response is acceptable.

What is wrong with her? What am I even supposed to do about this anymore? What the f is wrong with my mother?

She is a trauma survivor. Much more severe than me. Maybe that’s why she is this way. I don’t know. I don’t care. I wish she would leave me alone about this I’m never allowed to ever had a feeling about anything I am just to be completely m she is a trauma survivor. Much more severe than me. Maybe that’s why she is this way. I don’t know. I don’t care. I wish she would leave me alone about this I’m never allowed to ever had a feeling about anything I am just to be completely flat or here comes the oh god I don’t know why that would bother you. She doesn’t know why being raped or being reminded of being raped would ever bother me what is wrong with me how could I be bothered by it.

I can’t take it anymore!

I’m thinking about writing people she knows that are family friends who are therapists that can help her understand why women cry about rape or to at least shut up about it. I know we could also and ties with her but I’m not ready to do that. I want to do something to help her understand. Maybe I could send her photos from the evidence file of what was done to my body? Maybe that would help her out? I can’t take it anymore. I just can’t take it anymore.

I was 16 years old, went to the Smithsonian in DC, got trapped in an elevator with a molester.....he grabbed my skirt, pulled me back into the elevator....I managed to get to the door....but not before he had his hands up in me.....I screamed before the door closed ....clawing my way out. A three hour drive home, after conferring with strange policeman......and when I got home, my teacher told my mother when she brought me home. When I saw her, she was a small woman, much smaller than myself....I immediately went over and put my arms around her.-I towered over her.....and cried.....she didn't know what to do......she just stood there with her arms at her sides....emotionless......she did not hug back and she did not cry for me. I cried off and on that day.... and she told me there was no point to crying.....and to just forget it. My mother is dead now and I feel sorry for her.....she didn't learn to feel.....she couldn't empathize......or even give me a hug, I wasn't the loser-she also lost in the relationship. My mother was ill-equipped to deal with my emotions-cause she couldn't deal with her own. Later in my life, I learned about rape the hard way...., but I never told her.....because I probably deserved it or asked for it....would have been her response. I'm so sorry you went through this...and it is doubly hard when your own mother can't empathize as a woman-or as a parent.

I never wasted my time trying to make her understand....because I believed she couldn't....she couldn't feel emotions herself. I don't know if this helps....but I know that it is so hard. Take care....

 

[Friday]

She is a trauma survivor. Much more severe than me. Maybe that’s why she is this way.

Probably.

I don’t know. I don’t care. I wish she would leave me alone about this

I’m thinking about writing people she knows that are family friends who are therapists that can help her understand why women cry about rape or to at least shut up about it. I know we could also and ties with her but I’m not ready to do that. I want to do something to help her understand. Maybe I could send her photos from the evidence file of what was done to my body? Maybe that would help her out?

You’re going to shred yourself as long as you have both of these desires competing against each other. Not that they can’t both exist in the same space, but they’re going to pull you in very different directions.

Spoiler: Me Stuff

For a long time I really wanted my mom to be my best friend and a trusted advisor. It broke my heart when I realized that was never going to be possible. Being me? I had to have my heart broken a few times to really absorb that message.

Never say never :rolleyes: ... many years later, she DID become one of my best friends. Because I completely dropped the trusted advisor part of the wish. I can love her, and I can be friends with her -which means I love, like, and respect her- but only by accepting that I can’t turn her into who I want her to be. She’s never going to understand about 1/3 of my life (and I can’t make her underderstand, much LESS make her respond the way I want her to respond), and she’s never going to respond a way I can tolerate about another 1/3... because she understands just fine, we are simply diametrically opposed. Which isn’t usually a problem for me, I LIKE different views... it only becomes a problem when the other person reacts like a todddler throwing a tantrum when they’re disagreed with. Nope. f*ck that noise. I don’t play around. So about 2/3s of the topics on the planet (including a helluva lot about me & my life) are verboten... IF I want to remain friends with her. And I do.

Doesn’t mean I don’t still bring her things I shouldn’t, aaaaaaaand a whole long list of other things I know better than to do (like tell her my plans in advance, OMFG, bad idea! Bad idea, Friday! Doooooon’t -Too late. :facepalm: f*ck me) .... but that’s the love & friendship thing. There’s room to f*ck up. It means I’ll make mistakes, just like she will in reverse, and the other person pisses us off or disappoints us... but we both shrug it off & carry on. (Not usually very quietly. Our points of friction tend to be loud screaming matches with arms raised and waving around. Sometimes it’s the cold disapproving silence, or dispassionate enacting of consequences. Just not usually.) We both go barrelling through the other person’s soft limits on an intermittent basis (and get hurt / hurt the other person) but -so far- neither of us has crossed a hard limit. Not in a very long time, I should say.

Family is complicated.
Adult relationships get complicated.
Adult relationships with family get f*cking complicated.