I Don’t Want to Take Care of My Mother: How to Forgive the Woman Who Neglected You!

By Eve Rosenberg

When you think about your mother:

• Do you blame her for neglecting you as a child?
• Do you hold her responsible for your low self-esteem?
• Do you feel diminished after spending time with her?
• Do you do things out of obligation; to avoid being called the bad daughter/son?
• Are you afraid to admit, even to yourself, that you don't like her?
• Do you feel you deserve an apology you know will never come?
• Do you cringe when people say you look alike?
• Do you wish you had a better or different mother?

If, when you think about your mother, you want to be free of the guilt, shame, and resentment that takes away your peace and joy, this book is for you.

 

When faced with the decision to move close to her elderly, ailing mother, Eve Rosenberg was terrified, conflicted, and angry. She blamed her mother for everything that was wrong in her life believing, "If I only had a different mother, what I could have become. . . "

 

Desperate and determined to create a happy life for herself while dealing with her mother's challenges, Eve carved a path for herself that led to not only forgiving her mother but to bonding with her and falling in love with her shortly before her mother died.

 

Grateful for this experience, Eve attributes the joy and peace she now feels, to her decision to surrender to what she'd resisted for years: facing the strong dislike she had for her mother and choosing to change and forgive.

 

Eve could finally see her mother for who she truly was—a fragile woman with a traumatic past—which made mothering her children impossible. With her heart now open, Eve could release the guilt and shame she carried,  believing she was a bad daughter who wasn't worthy of love and good fortune in life.

 

Inside this book, you'll discover how to:

• Get real with your feelings and own your anger.
• Let go of the resentment you hold toward your mother that blocks your joy.
• Stop using your mother as the excuse for not pursuing your dreams.
• Forgive your mother and yourself.
• Honor your mother by living YOUR best life.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

 

Eve Rosenberg is an Integrative Life Coach who compassionately supports others to love themselves and step into their lives with both feet, so that they attract the joy and love they yearn for. She's the author of Your Happy Life Realized: How to Stop Putting Others First and Yourself Last, NOW!  and Be Selfish, Eat Well, Serve Many: Taking the Path to Your Happiest Life! 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eve Rosenberg
• Release date: Apr 27, 2020
• ISBN: 9781732850651

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

How did I end up here? my mind screamed.

Fear had befriended the anxiety I was feeling for days. I was working diligently to quiet my thoughts, but another would quickly chime in. What if I can’t handle this?

Arriving in Florida after a long journey south, rendered me tired and hopeless. I dreaded the future. It took every ounce of strength I had to summon up mere scraps of positivity—knowing that what I think about, I bring about. The chatter in my mind needed some serious tweaking. It was my first day out to meet my mother.

The clock struck noon and the air was balmy. The weather forecast threatened high heat and thunderstorms by late afternoon. Here I was in the sunshine state, blindly feeling my way through the dark. The semblance of a life that once promised happiness was now a blur in my rearview mirror. It was bittersweet saying goodbye to my life in the Northeast.

As my eyes scanned the bare, beige walls of my new apartment, I remembered how I’d rented it sight unseen. When I visited the property a couple of months ago, most apartments were tenant occupied and unavailable for viewing. All I had to go by was a small floor plan inside a brochure. I wasn’t privy to the lack of natural light past ten in the morning or the walls that screamed out for a paint job. This place wasn’t exactly a perk for the melancholy mood that occupied my mind.

It had been three days since I moved in and I was barely acclimated to my new surroundings. I slept on an air mattress and lived out of a suitcase. My midsection was beginning to show the diet of takeout meals I was forced to eat because the movers—and my pots and pans—weren’t expected for another week.

It felt strange being on my own in a new state. Even though I wasn’t a stranger to Florida, I was on vacation there frequently. It wasn’t a place I ever thought I’d choose to call home. There’s a transient energy with people coming and going. Those who eventually settle here escape the frigid temperatures elsewhere, while the natives resent the intrusion of the snowbirds who arrive in late October, creating traffic snarls on the roadways and crowds in stores and restaurants.

Nuzzling close to my dogs was the only comfort I could count on. They were my saviors, preventing me from falling into a deep well of sheer loneliness. I had no idea how long I’d stay here. What was clear was that I needed to take care of myself, now that I was faced with the burden of taking care of my mother.

I tip my hat to families who graciously support each other through every phase of life and seem to be at peace with it. Parents care for their grandchildren while their children are working, and when they reach their elder years, the obligation rests on the shoulders of the younger generation. Case closed.

My maternal grandmother, Adele, lived with us until her sudden death when I was twelve. She was like a mother to me and my sister. She looked after us even when my parents were home. It gave my mother the luxury of napping during the day and leisure time for my father when he returned home from a long day’s work, usually well after we were tucked in for the night. Even so, the house was quite small, which didn’t allow for privacy. I suspect this arrangement had a negative impact on my parents’ already strained marriage, evident in the lack of affection between them.

When I was in my forties, I imagined my parents or in-laws, once they reached an age where living alone was no longer safe, would live with me and my husband. When I turned fifty, and my parents were settling into their early eighties, my fear steadily grew. My present-day reality echoed that tomorrow wasn’t far off. As my father would often say, "It’s not a matter of if; it’s a matter of when."

As my clients and friends shared their experiences with me, my concerns increased to a volume I could no longer ignore. Those who chose to move in with a parent became disillusioned and very unhappy. They revealed incidents where their parent became combative, abusive, and extremely difficult to care for. They begrudgingly admitted that their own patience had also waned, producing reactive outbursts toward their ailing parent. If this didn’t tip the scales in favor of running the other way, most admitted their marriage had taken a harsh blow because of this arrangement.

Here I was, facing the proverbial midlife crisis people talk about when they’ve lost sight of life’s direction. Standing squarely at a crossroads, experiencing a life-altering change at the age of fifty-five was not my idea of a happy place to be.

Ending my third marriage and realizing that my life had taken a U-turn from the direction I’d predicted when I married for the first time at twenty-five, was more than I could handle. Back then, I believed my children would be grown by the time I reached fifty years old. My husband and I, free from childrearing, could travel and do what we chose. I was thrown for a loop when that marriage came to a screeching halt after only eleven years. When my faith in love got me to the altar two more times, those unions had an even shorter distance to the finish line, and none of these unions produced the children I’d always wanted. For all the time, sweat, and tears I put forth in relationships, I came out with a minus return on investment. Becoming a caretaker to my mother wasn’t something I embraced. Resistance was becoming my constant companion. This was just another monkey wrench thrown into an unpredictable mix of