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The Mind of an Abused Woman
Not the blog I wanted to write today
Last night, I got home from work and walked into my kitchen, right into a grilling from my daughter. She is 18 years old and, at the moment, very much trying to figure out where she stands with people in her life. She had therapy yesterday. And I love her therapist. But, apparently, the appointment got her mind working in a way that allowed and encouraged her to question me.
She is the “mom” of the family. If there is hardship, she goes into full-time Mama Bear mode. She has a little sister who she is worried about. It’s not that the little one is making bad choices. It’s that I, her mother, have a pattern of attracting abusive men.
My 18 year old wants to leave home and explore the world. She is doing the research to go teach English abroad (something I did as well) and do what all healthy 18 year-olds want to do. And I am thrilled for her.
But, my behavior and words over the past year have not matched up, in her perspective. And, in her perspective, she is not wrong.
The whole conversation made me pretty mad. I didn’t get mad at her, of course. It made me mad at myself for misrepresenting to her what the real problems were. When I was in the middle of it, I just didn’t have the words to communicate things well.
