Resurrecting an old thread, but oh well. This is my first post on this forum. I'm in an effort to understand myself and my husband better, so here I am!
Get ready for a massive tl;dr! lol
Anyways, as to the topic in question: the person I was forced to cut out of my life is my own mother (like the poster above me, but for different reasons). She abandoned me when I was five and my sister was four, leaving my father hurt and bewildered after she cheated on him because he was 'too busy working to spend time with him'. She shortly thereafter got knocked up by the guy she cheated on him with and had my half-sister, who she also abandoned...this time at the ripe old age of nine whole months. Fortunately at this point, the woman had her tubes tied, so she wouldn't be able to ruin the lives of any more children afterward.
Years passed, and of course myself, being a child, always wanted to have a relationship with my mother. We were told very little about what happened, but I still remember very vividly the day she left us. My father did the best he could, but it's obvious to me as an adult now, that he didn't really know what he was doing. He was physically abusive and emotionally cold, but for me as the INFJ child, the latter was the worst. I needed loving on and cuddles and hugging, and I didn't really get that from him. At sometime in my fifteenth year of life, I got tired of my father and his exhaustive rules and told him I was moving out and going to live with my mother. He told me "Fine, if you think your life's going to be soooo much better, then go!" So I went. Within months, my mother's drug abuse and alcoholism became readily apparent. I came home from a surprise 16th birthday party super excited because it was my first REAL birthday in my memory...and found my mother, her good for nothing husband, and a bunch of their friends doing lines of coke in the living room. Shortly after that, my mother's mother (my memere) came and took me away to live with her.
More years passed. By 17 I got stuck in an abusive relationship. It took me seven long years to finally get the courage to get out. I was five months pregnant at the time and had nowhere to go. I moved in with my mother, hoping that she'd changed. It seemed so at first, but I remember distinctly when my son was only a couple months old when my step-father's drug dealer came pounding on our door screaming for his f*ing money. I gave him the last of the money *I* had, just to make him go away. After a while I ended up getting back together with an old HS boyfriend, and before long we were married and miserable. I was desperate for security and he offered me that. But he was completely disinterested in anything else but having a housekeeper and free sex whenever HE thought he wanted it. This didn't work out, obviously. I was incredibly used by him, and sadly he is simply too stupid to understand how much wrong he did to me (up to and even including marital rape). Throughout all of this, I kept on trying to have a relationship with my mother. Eventually, I couldn't hack the marriage and asked for a divorce. It was gut-wrenching for me because I don't like to hurt people, and I knew I was going to hurt my ex.
A few weeks after I asked for the divorce, I moved with my mother and step-father halfway across the country to a state I've never even seen before, never mind lived in. I needed a fresh start and an entirely new place. Whatever fit in the car is what went: clothes, some dishes and things, my five year old, and the cat. I loved the change immediately. The area agreed with me far more than "home" ever had. But of course, the same pattern with my mother and step-father continued. Emotional abuse. Drunkenness. Drug abuse. Fighting. Carrying on. Endless drama. Through all that, I through whatever twist of fate found the love of my life (an entirely different story, and a lot happier one!). At first, my mother seemed like she was happy for my own happiness, but that changed. FAST. Before long, instead of seeming pleased, she began to lash out against my happiness, saying I didn't really know this guy, and how did I know he was really the one? What if he was a lunatic, or a serial killer, or whatever stupid excuse she thought up? I realized quickly that she was JEALOUS. Jealous of my happiness and angry that her own marriage was a joke. Jealous that her own husband was a piece of shit, a drug user, an alcoholic, a cheater.
One day, my boyfriend (now my husband) was at my house, showing me a video on youtube of a poetry reading. My POS step-father, drunk, came out and started screaming at the top of his lungs about "what is this shit? Are you in a f*ing cult?" and all kinds of other utterly absurd nonsense. Now, I could think of a lot of retorts, like "What, J? I know you never made it past THIRD GRADE, but I'm sure they did poetry at one point or another!" ...but I was too upset at the time. I got my son and we walked away. I ended up living with my boyfriend in his car for a little while, with my son, because it was a better choice than dealing with...just all of this. I was tired of it and endlessly sick to my stomach with anxiety. After a couple weeks, the situation changed and we were able to move in. I still saw my mother on the rare occasion, but within the month, once she realized her food stamps card wouldn't work, both her and my step-father bailed and went home. It was the most relief I've felt in a loooong time!
Unfortunately, I also had my mother on facebook, so even from home she had no problems trying to make my life hell. One day I sat down and just let it all out in a private message to her...all this stuff I wrote here, and more. And I told her I wasn't interested in talking to her anymore until she showed some remorse. And in a fit of rage, this bitch called the Sherriff's office on me, pulling a baldfaced lie out of her ass and telling them she was "worried about her daughter and grandson because she hadn't heard from them in MONTHS! QQ" So when the deputy showed up at the door, I was in for a surprise, but righted the impression immediately and told her that I'd fought with my mother over FB just that morning, that my mother was a liar, and I also apologized that her time had been wasted coming out to see us. The deputy, of course, said we wouldn't be bothered any more and made sure to say that she'd note my mother made a false report, and left.
I was FURIOUS. How dare she? I don't know what she expected to happen, but she sure as hell didn't get it. And she didn't get the other result she wanted, either, because after ALL this, I have not talked to her since but for the barest comment or "like" of something over FB.
Cutting her out of my life was the best thing I could do for both myself and my child, and I don't regret it for a moment.
