Nil Communication

Posted by fxckfeelings on November 1, 2012

When a severe disappointment breaks you down, the pain is nothing compared to the damage done to the way you see yourself and your world. If despair sweeps away your most important values and relationships, it may leave loved ones with no way to help or save you from yourself, making repairs impossible. If, on the other hand, you retain some perspective and a sense of humor, you can fight the negative thoughts that flood your brain, regain respect for your own resources, accept the help that others offer, and rebuild yourself into someone better than before.
–Dr. Lastname

I have really fond memories of my mother until I was eleven, at which point she became a drunk. Before then, she was really happy and loving and had lots of friends, but my father later explained to me that she lost a job she was very attached to, felt it was unfair, and became very bitter. My father loved her and did everything to help her, but she didn’t seem to care, even though the worse she did, the more she hated herself. He finally gave up, left, and took us kids with him because she couldn’t care for us. Recently (about 15 years later) I heard she tried to kill herself with alcohol and almost succeeded. I’ve been angry at her, because we were once close and I tried to help her, but now I’m afraid she’ll die and I still can’t understand how someone as nice and loving as she used to be could drink herself to death with so many people around her who love her. My goal is to find some peace between us before or after her death.

Alcoholism, like severe mental illness, sometimes lets people develop nice, warm personalities and rich lives before it declares itself. Out of nowhere, it changes the way their brains process information and feeling, and turns them into self-absorbed ghosts of who they used to be.

The mother you remember may well deserve your respect, but she vanished after disappointment triggered her addiction, making her incapable of loving others or saving herself.

Maybe her imagination, idealism, and sensitivity made her more vulnerable to the dark side of disappointment, or her sense of responsibility was too black and white, making her blame herself for every apparent failure. Sometimes your best qualities are also the ones that make you more vulnerable to self-hate, setting the stage for self-destructive behavior.

The awakened bitter part of her personality puts anger and disappointment ahead of love, self-respect, and responsibility to others. What’s horrific is watching a disease possess your mother like an angry demon, knowing that you can’t reach or save her.

In any case, it’s good that you can see the good in her while knowing that good people tried to save her and failed, so don’t make her mistake and take this failure personally. There are some demonic possessions no one can exorcise, some diseases that can’t be managed once they get out of control.

Assuming hers is an advanced, involuntary illness and not a failure, don’t forget the person you loved. By remembering her, you give meaning to her life and take focus off of her death; the illness someone dies from is the least important thing about them. What counts is who they are when they have choices, before illness changes their brain and alters their capacity to choose. Respect your memories and reject blame.

Compose a speech to the mother she was. Don’t assume she made bad choices and thus lost you, her marriage, and a good life; instead, assume that the pain of disappointment was too strong, and she wasn’t built with the strength to handle it. If you have the chance, tell her you disagree with her sense of failure and defeat. You can imagine how she feels, but you know her successes and the things she might yet accomplish, and would enjoy if she could fight alcohol and her dark thoughts.

At the same time, accept that if she can’t, she can’t. You’ll tell your kids about the person she was before the job loss triggered the self-hate and alcohol that have claimed her. You can’t give her back her health, and she can’t give you back the mother you loved, but if you accept what’s happened to her, you can give yourself the peace you deserve.

STATEMENT:
“I can’t stop feeling angry and disappointed with my mother, particularly since she spoiled every attempt I made to save her and wound up thinking about no one other than herself. I will not forget her better side, however, or assume that she can free herself from bitterness. I will prepare for her death by remembering what was best in her life, including the fact that she found a good man to love and was a good mother before she became too sick to feel anything other than her own misery.”

I know, since I lost my job as an illustrator, that we didn’t have the money to keep the big house where we raised our kids, but I still resented my husband for insisting that we had to downsize our living standards by selling it. I couldn’t find a job that paid nearly as much as my previous one, but, just when I started feeling happy doing a lousy-paying job that I enjoyed much more, he told me I’d have to find something that paid better or we’d have to move again. I always feel angry at him for making me feel like a failure, but I know he was right about the first house and he’s probably right now. Not everyone who’s poor and unemployed has an overbearing husband they hate, however, and my goal is to feel less bullied and less angry.

When your career tanks, it’s easy to fall into the same rut that traps underperforming kids and their parents. Your husband has become the dad, wanting to help and support you while fearing for the family’s security. He sees lots of things he would do to find work which you don’t do, making him frustrated by your apparent stubbornness and childish refusal to take good advice.

Assuming you aren’t built the same as he is and really can’t make use of his advice, you wind up stuck in the child role, unhappy with yourself, and resenting criticism that sounds parental while feeling guilty, angry, and very, very disposed to do the opposite of whatever he says. While it may make you feel young again, it’s probably not good for your sex life.

What you need to do is pretend your husband is dead/dad kicked you out and you’re on your own, forced to make a living, find a nice place to live, and make hard choices you can live with. The only enemy to face down is you, the girl who doesn’t want to change jobs and wishes she had a trust fund. Assuming that you have the skills and ability to do a job search, do it; it won’t make you happy, but you’ll know you’re doing what’s necessary to survive and that’s something to be proud of.

Once you’re in the right mindset, review your partner’s needs, which, from what you say, are probably not different from your own. Then, if necessary, make compromises that you think are fair, but don’t focus too much on his happiness or you’ll sink back into your child-failure rut.

Now you’re ready to present your plans as you would at a shareholder’s meeting, confidently and in detail, specifying the needs it meets and the corners it cuts while staying positive about its advantages and your good work, regardless of whether it has yet paid off. Be open to suggestions but not too reactive to your husband’s feelings (see above).

If you believe in your plan, you’ll relieve much of your husband’s anxiety about the future and, hopefully, he will trust you to do things in your own way and be less overbearing in his advice. He will treat you with respect, you’ll age from childhood to adulthood, and, eventually, with luck, at some point you’ll have a job that pays enough and a husband instead of a third parent.

STATEMENT:
“I hate searching for another job that I fear will make me less happy than what I’m doing now, but, regardless of what my husband says, I know how much money I need to make and what compromises will be necessary. I will present my plans with optimism, authority, and no apology. I will treat my husband as a respected partner who has carried more than his share of the load, but who can’t know more than I do about what will work for me.”