Family is often said to be everything, and society pushes the idea that you must remain loyal, regardless of circumstances. This misguided belief can lead to significant distress for many. In my late teens, I made the decision to cut ties with my family, prioritizing my well-being over blind loyalty.
What Does “Cutting Ties” Mean?
It’s more about creating distance. I rarely visit, and I manage only a few phone calls each year. My mother? I haven’t spoken to her in five years, and those years have been incredibly liberating. Previously, I wrote about the concept of not needing to love your family, clarifying that this doesn’t apply to all family members.
Some relatives can be toxic, and I’ve chosen not to engage with them. I won’t be attending my mother’s deathbed or funeral; her presence has been detrimental to my life. She didn’t even attend my wedding, which was a relief, as she has marred numerous significant events in my life—proms, concerts, graduations, and holidays.
The Impact of Toxicity
While many articles discuss the necessity of removing toxic friends, the same principle applies to parents. It takes a considerable amount of hurt to despise your own mother; she needs to consistently belittle you, yell at you, and instill self-doubt. I vividly remember when, at ten, she convinced me that my friends were stealing from us. I ended up patting down my guests at the door, leading only to their hurt feelings and my shame.
During elementary school, I was recognized for playing with a classmate who had Down syndrome. My mother’s reaction was to break a bowl in rage and hurl eggs at me, calling me derogatory names. Years later, after a performance with the high school orchestra, she questioned my abilities, implying I should quit based on her perception rather than my teacher’s.
Her disdain only grew; she once wielded a kitchen knife in a fit of rage, and when we called the police, they dismissed her as harmless. Despite the chaos, I realized that her opinion didn’t define my worth or capabilities. She suffered from schizophrenia, but her unkindness existed long before her mental health deteriorated.
Moving On
Eventually, I ceased visiting her altogether. Now, she resides in a facility and rarely receives visitors. Sometimes I feel sympathy for her, but I have to prioritize my own life, career, and family. Observing how others interact with their mothers, I find myself perplexed and curious, yet I don’t envy those relationships.
Occasionally, I catch a glimpse of my mother in the mirror. While she was physically attractive, her influence instilled a sense of judgment and mistrust in me. Unlike her, I strive to build meaningful relationships. Despite her toxic traits, I’ve turned some of her paranoia into a protective mechanism, ensuring I don’t become too complacent or trusting.
The Myth of Reconciliation
I’ve long moved past the idea of reconciliation. The truth is, her abuse shaped me, and I no longer yearn for a nurturing mother figure. The myth of reconciliation is just that—a myth. My mother’s cognitive decline means she wouldn’t recognize me now, nor do I seek her approval. Adversity shapes us, and we all face challenges, whether in childhood or adulthood.
Conclusion
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Summary
This article discusses the complex dynamics of familial relationships, particularly the necessity of distancing oneself from toxic parents. Reflecting on personal experiences, it emphasizes that love and loyalty to one’s family are not obligatory, especially when faced with harmful behavior. Ultimately, it advocates for prioritizing personal well-being and evolving beyond negative influences.