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Childhood Ptsd Stressors: Why Does My Mother Eclipse My Abuser?

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Quick summary for context:

I was sexually abused in early childhood for at least two years, somewhere in the neighborhood of 4-6 years old, by my older brother and around a dozen of his friends. My brother continued to be a psychological issue for me throughout my growing up because we were enduringly close, and I have come to believe he is a narcissist or at least very nearly meets the criteria for NPD, which is to say he was a very unstable bond who often oscillated between giving me All The Attention and being punitive in his relationship with me (and everybody else around him). My current T believes that I never had a secure attachment with my parents and therefore attached myself to my brother, who of course did many things that made him an unsafe relationship.

After I disclosed my trauma, when I was fourteen--well, it was all very dramatic in how it happened. My mother was certain that I'd been abused, but when it turned out to be her dear, beloved, somewhat slow and very needy son, she wasn't exactly having it. Add to this, I am still coming to terms with the fact that my mother was very emotionally and certainly verbally abusive throughout my childhood, made worse by the fact that she home schooled me.

When I was sixteen, and my brother was in his twenties, I hit some sort of critical mass and had to go no contact with my brother, who was still living with me. I eventually gave my parents an ultimatum, that I was leaving if he wasn't, and they finally kicked him out (until I left home the following year for school). Since then, I have seen my brother only a few times, but I have essentially continued to be no contact with him.

I have been in therapy with my current T for a year and a half, and we don't stop talking about my mother. My T made the observation early on, in the first few sessions, that my voice and my eyes go dead when I talk about my brother, but when I talk about my mother, I can barely suppress a swell of emotion.

Although I did go through several years where my thoughts fixated on my brother, how he betrayed my trust, how he never said he was sorry, how he blamed me and allowed others to blame me for "ruining" our family because I could no longer cope with living with him and seeing him, I have mostly stopped brooding over it. Since I've been independent of my family's affairs, as an adult, it's been really easy to just hate him, whereas my emotions surrounding him used to be seriously mixed. The more torn I felt about him, the more I felt tortured by my emotions. Hatred is a very clean, easy feeling, and he has done nothing but continue giving me good reasons to simply hate him and hope he dies soon.

My mother, on the other hand, is constantly plaguing my thoughts. I want to call them trauma-based thoughts, or PTSD thoughts, because I'm sure you all can relate to how thoughts about trauma are intrusive and so much more powerful than normal thoughts. They're just a different flavor. But my mother didn't really traumatize me. I suppose the emotional/verbal abuse is a thing, but, I don't know, I think of my trauma as being my childhood rape, later rapes, later sexual assaults, the stalking I've experienced. Even when I'm fixating on my mother, I'm not really brought back to those times as a kid when I tried to hide under the table during her marathon shouting sessions. I don't think about the hours of crying as she berated me, first for something silly, then escalating to weird emotional landscapes, personal attacks, etc.

It's possible that the reason I don't think about the "abuse" from her is because, to me, she's an ongoing person, and my brother is a fixture in the past. I don't know. I do know that she continues to burn me emotionally, though she's getting better, which sometimes makes it more difficult.

But I really don't understand or like that my therapy sessions always, always come back to her. I feel like I should be pushing myself to talk about the CSA, but instead, I talk about my mother, and my T is always digging at it, because she sees the storm of emotion it stirs up in me, and that's what she's after--anything but the numbness.

But why? Why is my mother, who I don't consider an abuser, so much the focal point for what I'd call my PTSD thoughts (and nightmares and emotional flashbacks)?

Can anyone else relate to this focus on what they would consider a non-primary trauma or a non-crit A trauma? Do you have any insight for how my therapy and my head has gotten to this point?

I've never processed my CSA trauma. Or any of it. Aside from here, on the forum. I've never said that shit out loud. I could sort of understand, had I already moved past those in therapy. Or maybe my T is working from the edge of my traumatic experiences inward, to the darker center?
 
Okay I keep typing a response and deleting. I'm getting tired and can't seem to formulate some clear thoughts... but I want to respond to at least say I can most definitely relate to almost everything you've written. I've taken my focus/my t's focus on my mother to be because, as you said, she's an ongoing person (or relationship) and my brother (and other abusers) is a fixture of the past. While my CSA and sexual assaults are clearly definable, the abuse at the hands of my mother was or is not, so our relationship is more complicated. I think that may be what my t is trying to get me to see and to dig deeper as it is all intertwined with everything else, much to my surprise. Maybe I can explain that later.

Edited to add: It bothers me that my t takes sessions in this direction as well, but I'd have to say... as of late... I've been able to establish some boundaries and clear feelings regarding my mother that I've never been able to do before. Maybe my t is on to something after all. ;)
 
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Wow, I can relate to what you are saying about the feelings toward your mother. My mother was not the perpetrating parent, but I tend to feel more anger toward her for everything that happened to me as a child, while I tend to feel nothing but numbness for my father and I try not to think of him at all if I can help it. My T says it is like a sense of betrayal I may feel that she was not there to protect like a mother should be, and I agree. Perhaps this is why the mother emotion is so strong? What you are saying about her being an ongoing person in your life makes a lot of sense too.
 
I can relate to this too. Both my parents were physically abusive to me and to each other but it's my mum I feel all sort of things about. I seem to have reconciled myself to my dads part in things and in my experience he's the more reflective of the two and definitely more supportive of me as an adult.

I think I've always missed having a caring mum, who was there for me, listened and cared for me. Even now she has no time for me unless I'm meeting a need for her and I find her cruelty to me the most hurtful thing to try and get past. In therapy, all roads seem to lead back to my mum and unpicking that is some of the most excruciatingly painful work.
 
I relate to a lot of what you discuss here. I have battled to understand my reactions. I'm still not sure what is going on for me but sometimes I feel like the trauma elsewhere and the betrayal got mixed up with her. When I read about betrayal trauma it feels like a fit even though I can't remember anything that would qualify as Trauma with my mother.

The type of work you are doing with your t was very helpful for me in developing my identity and general functioning as a human being. That allowed me to manage the trauma and trauma symptoms better.

Is there something internal that still needs that mother and is trying to battle that out? I think a lot of emotions and stuff can come from a lack of acceptance. Still battling with reality. Still trying to come to terns with the lack of love and nurturing and attachment. This stuff runs so deep. It does for me anyway. Its the building blocks of becoming a human being so its no wonder.

At one point I realised that I was still much more avoidant of going into the trauma. That it was different. I guess they are both life changing and destroying but in different ways, Maybe you could bring this up with your t?
 
Moms are supposed to be the only ones guaranteed to protect us.

Biology tells us this. Society tells us this.

And when they don't, it rocks us to the core, weakens our foundations.

We really only get one mom. When that goes bad------you can't really replace it.
 
I think @EveHarrington makes a good point, I know for me part of the challenge has been accepting that my mum couldn't protect herself much less anyone else and literally couldn't be there for me.

There are other, complex issues for me and my mum but she fundamentally didn't parent me in any meaningful way, while telling me how awful, terrible, evil I was. My dad had significant mental health issues, my mum was just a selfish nightmare.
 
But why? Why is my mother, who I don't consider an abuser, so much the focal point for what I'd call my PTSD thoughts (and nightmares and emotional flashbacks)?

She didnt protect you, she didnt believe you when you told her, she belittled you which on top of it all doesnt help.

My mother seems to be the middle of it all too, even in younger years before she caused the trauma and those are few of the reasons why my therapist has answered as to why.

The swell of emotions might be anger maybe? Or maybe just a much higher intensity of emotions.
 
Moms are supposed to be the only ones guaranteed to protect us.
I can tell this is still an issue because that comment made me want to throw the computer across the room. Which I didn't do. I'm calling BS on the "we need a mother" stuff though. I did just fine with nothing but an egg donor. Although, I am here......

The matter of who's an abuser and what's "criterion A" trauma is kind of interesting and maybe it's less cut & dried than we like to think it is. I never thought of my mother as "an abuser" either. Still don't, really. Never associated her with PTSD at all. I figured that was from CSA, But, my T also kept bringing the conversation around to my mother. At the time, she was very much alive. I was doing my best to avoid her, but had to talk to her now and then by phone, and got occasional wacko emails from her. My dad was also still alive, when I started therapy. Him I liked and wanted to visit now & then. Which meant dealing with my mother, because they were kind of a package deal.

My T was a lot of help in dealing with my mother. She'd send some crazy email, I'd ask him what she wanted, he'd help guide me through communication. On one memorable occasion, basically to bail me out, he finally said "Just say this....." and I did, and she quit. Eventually, there was a holiday when she expressed that she "wished" I could come for a visit. As it happened, I had plans to be somewhat near there anyway, so I could stop in but only had time to spend the night, so I had a great excuse not to stay long. So I replied, "I can, actually" and gave her the proposal. I can't say that she seemed happy, but she said ok. The day I was supposed to leave to make the road trip that would take me near their house, she said she thought it wasn't a good idea if I came right then, but I should think about it and let her know what I decided. (At this point, a bunch of what I'd learned in therapy kicked in and I changed up "the game". I was supposed to try to guess what she wanted me to do. But the ultimate rule of that game was, no matter what I guessed, it would, by definition, be wrong.) Instead of playing by the rules, I said, "THat's ok, I don't need time to think about it, if you think it's a bad time, I won't stop in. I'll call you tomorrow. from the road." and I hung up. As luck would have it, we had a terrible connection the next night. The following night, she called and asked where I was. I said I was home. (I was. It was the night I'd originally planned to be at her house.) She asked "What are you doing there?" I believe I said "Talking to you on the phone." but I went on to explain, since she hadn't thought it was a good time to visit, I'd just gone home after I'd picked up the car I'd gone to get. I was informed that I'd "taken what she'd said 'wrong' etc etc". That's pretty much how our interactions went, from the time I was old enough to figure out how to stay out of her way. But this was the first time that I very clearly saw that SHE was a very special kind of nuts. I mean, I LIGHT came on and choirs sang! Couldn't wait to tell my T. (Who, obviously, already had that figured out. LOL) At our next session, I asked if, by some unlikely chance, "Mom" sought out the services of someone in his line of work, was it at all possible that she might get an actual diagnosis? He laughed said, "Yeah, probably more than one." Then, I asked if he thought, maybe, the whole PTSD thing actually started with her...... He said that it more than likely did.

Here's the thing. I don't know that my mother hit me any more than the average mother of that era hit her kids. I know she screamed at me and called me names. I know she didn't like me at ALL. (I said something once, to my T, about my parents hating me. He said, "I don't think so. I've HAD clients whose parents hated them and you don't quite fit the profile." And, my dad really didn't hate me.) It wouldn't surprise me, the first year of my life, during the day, when it was just her & me, if she didn't do some scary stuff. But probably not stuff that fits most ideas of "Criterion A" I'm the oldest. An old guy who was our next door neighbor taught me to walk. Friends, who I think of as "normal" mothers tell me there's no way in hell they'd let the neighbor be the one to teach their kid to walk. Especially not the first kid. Maybe the 10th, but not the first. Where I'm going with this, I guess, is that what it takes to convincingly put you in fear for your life is probably different at 30 days old than it is at 30 years. And the ability to affect the wiring in the brain probably changes too. How much do you really know about your very early childhood?

Go with the mom stuff until you see where it ends up. You might be surprised. I was. But it's been pretty helpful.
 
So, I'd been typing a long response, and then I was abruptly signed out, and I lost my draft.

Given that, I'm already emotionally wound up right now, and I'm annoyed by the lost writing, so I'll have to come back to this tomorrow.

I just wanted to quickly say that I really appreciate all of the responses here, and I'm glad not to feel alone in this confusing space.
 
Okay, I'm finally back.

@SeanCharles thread here really sort of helped me realize why my mother is so integral to my trauma. I mean, I know well that studies have shown the context and reception of one's trauma has a critical impact on whether or not a person develops PTSD from that trauma, and my mother is both context and reception.

Until I started writing on that thread, I really didn't see how seriously my mother handicapped me when it came to having a chance of recovering from my trauma. Frankly, I feel pretty angry about it, because as I wrote there, I started seeing that I was not the one (as my family claimed, over and over again, for years) who had "torn apart" or "ruined" or "broken up" the family, she did. She created this very horrible situation. It's hard to see, looking at what I've written there and the reams I've left unwritten, how I even had a f*cking chance. And then she gave me the responsibility for what she'd done. Always giving me her responsibilities. That's my mom.

Some of the things I'd written earlier:

@Naoru It seems bad to say, but I'm glad to have another sibling incest survivor here. They are a minority here, it seems, and I feel like this is an underrepresented group in the sexual assault/abuse discourse.

@Trinket The idea of a mother as a protective figure is indeed a pervasive and strong one, but really, I think I get more riled up over the stereotype of brothers who are supposed to protect their little sisters, so the my-mother-didn't-protect-me sentiment feels weaker to me, although I suppose I am upset that my mother was ready to pull out the big guns when she was interrogating me over who abused me (she could tell, when I was 12, that I was showing signs of sexual abuse), but when it was her own son, suddenly everything needed to be smoothed over quickly and buried deep.

More to come.
 
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