Surviving Mother

By Diane Huddleston

Growing up with a mother who has mental issues is hard for anyone but most especially for a child. The ups and the downs of bipolar disorder leave many people feeling inadequate or unworthy. The abuse suffered can be physical or mental or, in this case, both.

This book follows the path of a woman who reveals the secrets an abused child must keep, the struggle that comes with finding herself, the battle of finding self-worth, and the difficulty of accepting kindness from others. The mental and physical abuse suffered leaves everlasting effects on the lives of not just this young woman but her siblings, her children, and even her grandchildren.

After escaping the physical abuse, the emotional scars are still present and will remain for the majority of her life. It took many years and the deaths of her sister and mother to finally learn to let go of the anguish of living with her abusive mother. The scars are still ever present, but the journey to healing, contentment, and acceptance has allowed her to grow past the trauma and to find joy in her life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 22, 2023
• ISBN: 9798889601104

Book preview

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Surviving Mother

Diane Huddleston

Copyright © 2023 Diane Huddleston

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2023

ISBN 979-8-88960-098-5 (pbk)

ISBN 979-8-88960-110-4 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

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For my sister. I love and miss you every day. Thank you.

This is the story of my life so far as I remember it. The years can sometimes dull the memories and forgive the hurt, but I’ve tried to be as honest as I possibly can be. If you feel details have been left out, it is because I honestly don’t remember the specific details. I believe God in His wisdom allows us to repress memories that we cannot handle.

I want to make you understand that this story is mainly for my own healing. I needed to tell my story to finally get rid of this pain and anger that has been inside me for so many years. I also want to honor my sister, who always looked out for us. It’s time to let the memories and the pain go.

There have been many people who God has placed in my path to help me heal from the events of my childhood. Please know that I am working through the healing process. Thank you for letting me tell my story.

I want to dedicate this book to my children, Jessica and Steve. While I didn’t beat my children, I know that my mother’s influence was still in me, and maybe I could have been a nicer mother to them. They know I love them and wish things could have been better.

Diane Huddleston

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My sister has died, and I’m at a loss for what to do or how to feel. She has been my best friend for sixty-four years. We shared a bedroom when we still lived with our parents. We left our parents’ house within a week of each other. We raised our children together. We shared everything.

She has been sick for several years with a crippling disease, so maybe I should feel glad her suffering is over, but I don’t. I selfishly still want her to be in my life, but not the way she was at the end. I don’t even want to think about that. I want my best friend back, whom I could call at a moment’s notice and say what had upset me or what had happened to make me feel joyful. I haven’t been able to do these things for a while now.

I think I was in denial. I heard the doctors say she would only live three to five more years, and it’s now been four. I knew what was coming, but I didn’t want to think about it. This is the greatest loss I have ever felt, more than going through a divorce, which I thought would be the worst thing to ever happen to me.

All I can do is try to tell the story. No one knows it the way I do. I can tell you, but you will never know what it’s truly like. I don’t even know all the details of my sister’s story. We have suffered together, and each of us has suffered separately. I can tell you we grew up in an abusive household, but unless you’ve lived it, you will never really understand that horror.

Unfortunately, as the oldest, my sister suffered the most, and it has now cost her life. She died from progressive supranuclear palsy. This is a disease that affects the brain cells that control body movement and thinking. No one really knows what causes it, but it is more commonly found in athletes like boxers and football players. It is suspected that repetitive brain concussions can be a leading factor. I know in my heart that my mother did this to her. It was not uncommon for my sister to have a giant goose egg on her forehead or the back of her head after an encounter with mother. We were never taken to the doctor, so nothing was diagnosed. I think she had many concussions. It’s just so unfair.

Growing up, I think my sister felt a responsibility to her younger siblings. While the rest of us would cower when Mother was in one of her moods, she would not. She would stand up to Mother and tell her she was being unfair. So many times I wanted her to just shut up and hide with the rest of us. That was the only safe thing to do. Maybe it was our fault. Maybe if we stood up as a unit, we could have gotten her to stop. Instead, the rest of us hid from Mother in fear and wished our sister would join us.

My mother was never diagnosed with bipolar disorder, but I, as an adult, suspected this was the problem. Mother could go into such rages at a moment’s notice. As a child, we never knew which mother we were going to get when she came home. If she had a good day, we would have a good day, and she could be fun to be around. If she had a bad day or was tired, life was not good for us.

As adults no longer living in her home, we still never knew which mother we would be subjected to. Every family gathering it seemed that she would pick one of us and torment him or her. She knew us well enough to say such awful things that she knew would hurt us deeply. Later we took turns having the family gatherings to our homes, thinking the stress of getting ready for the event was what was setting off the anger. Nope. She was still mean and still targeted one of us. In the later years, it was usually me because I had finally stood up to her, but I’ll get to that later.

So while this is my story, it is also my sister’s story. As I said, I cannot give you every detail of her encounters with Mother. I can tell you what I saw. While she truly did suffer more than the rest of us, you will have to transfer my story onto hers and turn it up a notch.

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Sitting in the pew at Mother’s memorial service, I tried really hard to remember something good