Last week’s article was a thorough how-to on going no contact with toxic parents (here). I asked my group members if there was anything that hit home for them. Then I followed up by asking if they wanted to share their anonymous experiences. Five volunteered, but what truly surprised me was that their stories had less to do with going no contact. The most common theme involved the pain of parental betrayal. Love bombing is a common trick toxic parents play on their children to keep them ensnared in the trauma bond. (Underlined terms are in Trauma Glossary 1.) This process of their using love and abuse interchangeably tends to be the most sure, but heartbreaking path towards the child finally deciding they have had enough.
Of the five who volunteered, two are still in contact with their toxic families. Far from no contact vs. low contact being a “right vs. wrong” debate, it drives home how we all have our own reasons for determining how much or how little we interact with them. We are all in different stages of our healing, after all. And sometimes it’s the unconditional love for those who live with the abuser. Sometimes the burden of their harassment stage is too great for daring no contact. Whatever the reason, every decision deserves respect, and none of the disdain.
The Five Six People You Will Meet:
Note: all interviewees are given power to choose their anonymous names.
Jaena: Daughter of a borderline mother and enabling father. I’m also the interviewer.
Nobody’s Child: Daughter of two severely disordered parents. She is returning briefly from her first interview with me. Her first appearance was in Adopted by Disordered Parents: An Interview with Two Survivors where she shared more of her story (here).
The Chemist: Son of a narcissist father.
Fabiola: Daughter of a borderline mother.
Patty: Daughter of a comorbid borderline-narcissist mother. Her enabling father has schizoid personality disorder.
Monica: Daughter of a borderline mother.
This article comes with a profanity warning…
I struggled with whether or not to (*Bleep*) their cuss words, but then I remembered that one of my group rules is “Do NOT watch your language or your grammar.” The reason behind it is, when processing our trauma, venting is crucial. If we take the time to watch our words or spelling, we are distracting ourselves from what’s important, and that’s letting it all out. And honestly? Sometimes we need strong language to vent out our hurt and to validate ourselves in the process. I am confident that anyone who reads this will understand and find more offense at what happened to those who were hurt by toxic parents than their occasional “vulgar language.” After all, these were people who said, “I love you” while their actions couldn’t be more opposite.
How Toxic Parents Love Bomb Their Kids
Jaena: I moved out at age 18 and signed a two-year lease on my apartment but I stayed in contact so that I could keep tabs on my then 7-year-old brother. He was the main reason no contact was unthinkable. Anyway, I was living alone and holding down two jobs just to pay rent. My mother started getting sweeter and sweeter to me. She told me that I was tearing down my health and she wished I’d move back in with her, so I didn’t have to work so hard.
How strong is the trauma bond? Powerful! You see, when I moved out, I was convinced I hated her, but her love bombing made me realize that I still loved her. After all the hell she had put me through, I was willing to forget everything that happened in my childhood. I thought I was finally going to have a nice relationship with my mother.
So, age 19, I broke my lease and moved back in. The moment everything was packed away and I turned in my keys to my landlord, my mother flipped the switch. Her mask didn’t so much “slip” off as she just ripped it off. It was lightning fast. She began finding any minute thing in the world to complain about me, blow out of proportion, make demands, and end her tirade with the same line: “You got a problem with that, you can move out!” That became her daily mantra and she waited until I was trapped in her home to start implementing it. I endured her threatening me with a roof over my head for six months until I moved out for good. That’s how I learned there was no hope at ever having a relationship with that woman.
Fabiola & Nobody’s Child compare notes on love bombing
Fabiola: Oh yeah, wanting to come to live with me to help me just to scream at me later that she “left it all for me and I’m this ungrateful bitch”. And just as you: “Come back home, you’re struggling so much, poor you,” just to be the same monster you are describing. “You live under my roof! You’re a free loader!”
Nobody’s Child: Hmmm, in my case, my adopted mom wanted me out of the house when I was 13 or 14. She threatened to set me up in my own apartment. I called her bluff. Instead of begging to stay, I said sounds good! I’d love it. So… That didn’t happen. When I turned 18, suddenly they both wanted me to stay (only as someone to oversee their home, it wasn’t because they cared about me). Fast forward to getting married and then divorced… I went into a women’s shelter. I didn’t contact them. By this time, I recognized that they had issues.
Once I was out of the shelter, I received a card from mom in the mail about how they’d promise to be nice to me & treat me better. Ha! I bought into their lies once again. They were as nasty as ever & even testified against me.
Jaena: So, wow, your first marriage had you in a women’s shelter. Enough said! And your mother hooked you in while you were in such a low and vulnerable part of your life, only to betray you by testifying against you. What is it about the disordered parents? They want us vulnerable and open to them all so that they can have the satisfaction of hurting us all over again.
Nobody’s Child: Needless to say, I don’t miss either of them.
Fabiola: They are truly despicable people.
The Chemist weighs in
The Chemist: It amuses me a little that my father threatened to reject me all my life. Then got really miffed when I did it. It took me three rounds to finally shut the door and lock it and throw away the key. It took three rounds because I cared about his feelings. “I only said that because I was worried about my money” and “I don’t remember that because that was a stressful time for the family” maintained my delusions.
My father’s penultimate words to me after I stopped coddling his feelings: “You no longer touch me”. Last words: “Thanks for the money, my door is always open.”
Let me also just add… I pay him interest on an old investment – no charity here. I just keep my word even though I reject him.
Jaena: How do you pay him? Is it in person or electronically? Are they monthly payments?
The Chemist: Wire transfer abroad, biannually.
Jaena: Perfect!
*Note, in last week’s article, four bullet points were introduced concerning circumstances worth considering prior to going no contact. Financially free from obligations to the abuser was one of them. The Chemist just demonstrated one example of working around this issue while still maintaining no contact.
Monica shares her mother’s love bombing-abuse cycle
Monica: Since I started to pull away from her she became the sweetest woman, so nice to me and “understanding” of my situation as a single working mom. Mind you, she knew about my situation when I was in her house back in 2020 and my daughter was a newborn, but she didn’t care. She made my life hell when I lived with her, criticizing, competing with me, humiliating me, and laughing at me. She would make disgusted faces when I asked for help to hold my baby while I freaking tried to poop!! My mother was impatient and constantly hurrying me up because she was too “busy.”
Yes, I ended up with constipation several times. Why? Because she’s always so busy cleaning her house, as she always has been. All the yelling at me with my baby in my arms when I asked her to please not fucking do it, even hit me because she was upset, yes, with my baby in her arms. Imagine how it was when I was a child.
Nowadays, she wants me to pretend none of it happened. Just because she wants it, and I have to do it because “She is my mother and gave me life”. I don’t have zero contact because I still talk to my father, but I so wish. Ugh. I got pissed again. How do I handle it? Hmmm. I try to stay away from her and ignore her and I don’t let her see my daughter. Mind you, she uses my father to come and just see her, even if I say no. They just get whatever they want, don’t they?
Daughter of an Enabling Father Smells a Familiar Dynamic…
Jaena: May I ask what your father was doing while she hit you and berated you?
Monica: Nothing. He usually just goes and says he doesn’t understand why we can’t have a good relationship. Many times he made me feel responsible or guilty or crazy, like it was me disrespecting her because I should shut up and take on the abuse because she is my *mother.”
Jaena: Mine did the same thing and used the same lines on me. He always blamed me every time she beat me. He even used to say, “The reason you two don’t get along is because you’re too much alike.” As if I could ever be a child abuser! My father refused to see how much I looked after my baby brother, or how her beatings were not how a mother is supposed to treat her child.
Monica: Exactly. I’m sorry you went through that too. He is so used to abuse, it’s his norm… It is so hard. Not having absolutely anyone to stand up for you and be a safe space for you as a child. That’s why now I have absolutely no desire to be anywhere near them, no matter how hard they try to get me back in to see my daughter.
Jaena: When I went no contact, I knew my father had to be included because they were a “package deal.” Like you, I had a lot of love for my father and I preferred to see him as my co-victim. It “helped me” make excuses for his covert betrayal of me, his own daughter. It took several years of my adult life to see him clearly…a little too clearly.
Suggested resources on the child’s trauma bond with the Enabler Parent
Jaena: I shared this with Monica and I am sharing with you, dear reader. This is especially for those who are holding on to a toxic relationship with your disordered parent, purely out of the love you have for the enabler parent. First, I’ve been there and I understand the attachment we develop for “the nice parent” and how untangling that particular web is a painful process in itself. What I can offer is a “starter kit” that can hopefully ease you into the process of gaining clarity and validation for yourself. Because one of the unfortunate side effects of healing is sometimes seeing those we love a little too clearly.
First, there is a reason Enabler Parent is in Trauma Glossary 1. I ruthlessly attacked that one when I defined it and I stand by every word.
Second, I want to suggest a great book to you: My Mother the Psychopath: Growing Up in the Shadow of a Monster by Olivia Rayne. It’s a true story of a girl raised by the abusive mother and enabler father dynamic. Her story has a happy ending because she broke free of them at just 22 years of age. It might provide you with some much-needed clarity and validation which will hopefully inspire you in your own life.
Third, I also wrote an article on my year of rage flashbacks, my true story of what I struggled through the day I finally saw my enabling father for what he was the whole time. That article is here. It will be mentioned again towards the end of this article in regards to the importance of blocking once we choose to go no contact.
Patty speaks up on sibling love-delusions
Patty: The blindness you had, when it came to your father, it’s very similar to my blindness with my brother, who is two years younger than me. I would swear my brother had been trained by my mother to secure my trust, time and again, just so he could betray it later. He always did that with no remorse. The foolish stubborn hope I held out for him took me until adulthood to finally stop buying into his B.S. in the first place: To see him as the lying flying monkey he was.
Jaena: Your brother was certainly the mini-me: the golden child gone terribly wrong. Thanks to you and others in our group who have also had the mini-me sibling, we can understand telltale signs that can clue us in on the sort of “thanks” we can expect from such siblings. For example, my brother was the golden child, but he never threw me under the bus because he wasn’t the mini-me. However, yours would gleefully laugh over your beatings for not doing exactly what he wanted. Then, right before you went to college, he feared replacing you as the family punching bag.
Patty: Yes. He expected me to sympathize and comfort him; he may have even hoped I would stretch out my hand to offer him a safe haven, should he ever need it, in the following years to come. This came shortly on the heels of several betrayals from him. My whole life he had joined in on the “you’re crazy” chorus, when it came to my parents, yet here he expected I’d just drop everything for him the second he felt pushed to admit that perhaps they are in fact less than perfect parents.
Baby’s First Boundary?
Patty: Well, I just shrugged and told him: “I’m sorry you’re so scared”. So there: he got his words of comfort and sympathy, but if he was hoping I’d do more: offer him someplace to go if he should run away, um, NOPE! He couldn’t do squat for me, never sided with me. So, I gave him a little pat on the shoulder and a wave goodbye. He had to drop his smugness and shape up his attitude towards his peers so he could crash on their couches rather than spend those two years as the only child in my parents’ house of horrors.
Jaena: Interesting! I have a similar experience at age 18, just before I moved into my first apartment. Parents got into one of their many arguments. My father said (talking his usual talk of leaving while never following through) “I don’t have to live like this. I’ll live with my daughter.”
Let me tell you, as much love as I had for my father, all I could think in that moment was “Oh no you won’t! You move out, you’re getting your own damn place.” I didn’t say any of that at the time but that firm boundary went up in my head, for sure. And I remember thinking: “All these years he could have gotten us away from this horrible woman but chose not to. And now he has the audacity to think, for one second that he’s going to follow me out the door just because I’m finally old enough to break free from this?”
Think about it. It was happening to you too, at the same age. We both found a morsel of validation strong enough to set our first boundary.
A Note on Patty and Monica
Since the group interview, I have played a little “Friendship Cupid” between Patty and Monica. Patty is in low contact (she visits them once a year) with her family of origin. But there’s something else amazing she has done. Her parents have no idea where, exactly Patty lives! Monica is interested in going low contact as well, and she’s interested in learning how Patty managed to prevent her family from figuring out where she lives. I admit, so was I! What Patty shared was like reading a manual on how domestic violence victims make themselves disappear from their abusive stalkers.
How They Harass Us Even In Our Trauma Bond Years
Fabiola: My mother and I live far away from each other, in different states. That is not an obstacle for her to abuse me as you’d know it’s the case for these borderlines. They have special skills.
She had harassed me in every possible way: sending letters to my husband speaking ill about me, calling my friends, sending boxes to my house, calling my cleaning lady to talk about me – harassing her actually as she told me, my mother would call her at three in the morning to ask if she had seen condoms that I had used with my “lover”, because of course I’m such a monster that I was cheating on my husband, and my mother would say this to other people, no problem for her!
I dealt with this harassment from 26 when I left her house to 38.
Toxic Parents Be Like: “I am punishing you because you don’t love me enough!”
Jaena: My mother went “scandal hunting” on me, too. The worst harassment was from age 19 to 20. I had moved out the second time and of course, she tried to love bomb me right away. You know the saying, “Fool me once…” Well, I wasn’t falling for it again and it made her angry.
Anyway, I had a roommate, so I didn’t have to work two jobs to pay rent. It was the first time in my adult life that I had free time. So, I would go out with my friends on the weekends and at least once a month, I would make a two hour road trip just to see my paternal grandmother. My grandmother was the great love of my life and it became most obvious during this period. I was taking road trips to see my grandmother more often than I was visiting my mother, who only lived four or five miles down the street from me.
Living that close to my mother was a terrible decision on my part. It gave her easy access to spy on me, judge me, show up at my door looking for evidence of having boys over, or if my car wasn’t there in the morning, did that mean I had been out all night partying and “sleeping around?” Her stalking and verbal abuse escalated in a matter of months. She went from questioning my morals to blatantly calling both me and my roommate (quote) “The epitome of trash!”
Straw, Meet Camel, Because That Back is Broken: Going No Contact
Fabiola: But the final straw to go no contact for me was:
She had just been at my house for vacation, she had left angry, sooner than planned and with a big blow out (of course! Can she leave any other way?)
But then she called me, we spoke a little for a couple of weeks, I was truly trapped. I felt that this was my life for good.
But then she made a big mistake, she sent me a voice message thru WhatsApp.
The message heard:
“This is for my grandson, play it for him….”
“Honey, sweetie, I love you so much (her voice was the most mellow and tender ever), I love you so much my handsome perfect boy, I miss you, I wish I could see you every day (her voice started to crack), I wish I could see you more, but your mommy and I don’t get along well and I don’t know why (openly crying at this point), I am sorry I am not the perfect mother she wants but I love youuuuuuuu”.
I stopped listening at that point. I was seeing the future. She showed me the future.
And by the way, isn’t it crystal clear that she didn’t want ME anymore, but wanted HIM? A new life to suck from.
After listening to her, I was seeing my future. I saw my son in the middle of this war that she had had against me since the day I was born.
I saw him in the future coming to me with teary eyes “Why don’t you love granny, mommy? She’s so sweet and nice. Why are you bad to her?”.
That bitch was beginning to put my own son against me. And hear this: he was 18 months old!
My First Attempt at No Contact
Jaena: My mother had given me her old furniture and bought herself new furniture, so that’s what my roommate and I were using in our apartment. I was also making monthly car payments to my parents. Once she determined that both my roommate and I were “the epitome of trash,” she demanded a recall of everything she had ever given me. She “repossessed” my car and then she told me that she had the legal right to go into my apartment to take back the furniture that “rightfully belonged to her.” The latter part was a lie, of course, but they did own the title to my car and my hands were a bit tied where their “repossession” was concerned.
Suffice to say, my road trips to see my grandmother were halted and I had to bum rides to work. My mother was stripping me of as much control of my life as she could and she was still calling me daily, cussing me out or leaving nasty voice messages. So, I changed my number to an unlisted one. I know it wasn’t much, but she was putting me through so much hell, that not even my concern for my brother could keep me in contact with that woman.
Toxic Parents Keep Us Vulnerable So They Have Power to Wield Maximum Hurt
Jaena: Unfortunately, things went from bad to worse. My roommate had been showing her true colors more and more. She was BPD too, just my luck, huh? Well, she screwed me over financially. I was in a major hole that I was NOT going to recover from anytime soon. That’s why I was forced to reestablish a connection, just three weeks after changing my number to an unlisted one.
My mother enjoyed every second of shaming me and verbally abusing me. She justified all of the hell she had put me through because according to her, “she was right the whole time.” And I had to stand there and listen without rebuttal to a woman who was getting off on the fact that I was trapped into being around her. The only good news was, I was lucky to move in with a true friend and I could afford the monthly rent there. So, at least I didn’t have to move back in with her. But I was without a car for a few years because my credit was too ruined to buy a new one.
We Now Return to Fabiola The Fierce
Fabiola: My momster is not the brightest in the block. First, in what world was l going to play this message to my baby without listening to it before? And if she wanted me to listen to it for me to feel bad about myself, oh boy, didn’t that backfire on her.
I saw my son suffering the same emotional pain that I did, the same manipulations, just as I was unable to enjoy life because there was this evil entity manipulating me, crushing me, filling me with her problems, with her issues. I saw my son crying in an impossible crossroad unable to believe his own eyes and ears, in disbelief of her mother being as bad as grandma said. And I also saw myself trying to convince him that she was the wrong one. My beautiful boy in this path for life.
I said Hell No.
There’s no way in hell I’m gonna let this evil woman, a monster of a person crush my precious son’s soul just as she did with mine.
(And maybe even winning over me! And stealing him from me! It’s not unheard that borderline grandmothers take their children’s kids lying and manipulating).
No fucking way.
No, I said no. I screamed NO!
In that moment, with no response to her message, I blocked her from everything and everywhere.
God help the toxic parent who comes between Mama Bear and her cub!
Fabiola: See, nobody, not one of the whole herd of flying monkeys ever defended me, no one ever shielded me, no one ever in my whole life protected me.
But I sure as hell CAN PROTECT MY SON.
That bitch had met her final moment in my life.
And I haven’t gone back, and will not go back, not for all the guilt in the world.
To me, to release me from that guilt, the price is my son’s heart.
The price to be in good terms with her is to surrender my son’s soul, give her my son to feed from.
To this monster of a person? To this entity? To this void of a human?
No way, no fucking way, no mother fucking way. I even made a will that he’ll go to a friend of mine if I die. Specifying that not my mother in any way.
About the guilt I feel from time to time, I chose it over allowing her near my son.
According to society I may be the worst daughter ever, but according to me I’m one hell of a great mother. And that’s enough. That’s priority now.
I’m pretty content and proud of myself. I rock.
And that bitch showed her game too soon. He was still a baby, he hadn’t attached to her. He won’t even remember her.
Not the brightest as I said.
A Note on Fabiola the Fierce
First, I hope she doesn’t mind the nickname I’ve given her. Second, her story is a beautiful metamorphosis of finding her strength while enduring hell itself. If you think her powerful story is something, just you wait for our future one-on-one interview. Be on the look-out for Fabiola and the Eight Flying Monkeys a few weeks from now. As the title suggests, she dealt with eight flying monkeys after going no contact with her mother. This was when I met her and I became an instant admirer. It wasn’t so much that she was being harassed by so many at once, as the way she handled it and simultaneously affirmed us all. I had never before seen anyone use more well-worded arguments in the face of so many victim shamers. I just love her, and trust me, you will love her too!
The Chemist Sends Me a Private Message
The Chemist: I would like to ask for your advice. I wrote this…
I’ve taken some time to think about this. So, understand that I’m quite serious. You’ve always been a vicious bastard, even if you weren’t that way at all times. You are an emotionally retarded narcissist and will never understand it because you’re an emotionally retarded narcissist. It’s sad, and I would express my pity, but you don’t deserve that. There’s one thing I’ve only said to you once – it was before 1993 – and I’ve always wanted to say it to you again. So here I go. Fuck you. You don’t love me. And don’t worry about your money. And don’t leave that door open, because I’ve already told the whole world what you are, and everyone I know agrees with me. Remember (deleted name) last words to you? Let me remind you. Tilltala aldrig mig mer. Everybody knows.
That Swedish phrase means never speak to me again, and (deleted name) is one of his former students. Should I hit send in your opinion?
Jaena: If you’re no contact then sending it will reset the clock. It will also trigger him into responding and then before you know it, dialogue will ensue between you.
The Chemist: I knew there was a reason I asked you. Thank you. It’s like sobriety. A no-contact type of sobriety.
Jaena: If you want, you can add that letter (names deleted) in the no contact talks for Monday’s article. And comparing no contact to alcoholics anonymous is golden! My sister-in-law asked if no contact is like the witness protection program. I didn’t know how to describe it but your description nailed it!
The Chemist: Yeah, just make very sure that name is out of there. Thank you for appreciating my words.
Blocking is Crucial When Going No Contact
The more distance we establish between ourselves and our abusers, the more space we have to gain clarity. As I mentioned before, one major side effect when processing our trauma is seeing those we love with unpleasantly fresh eyes. It reopens the wound of parental betrayal and it packs a lot of hurt! Naturally, we want closure. So, it creates the urge to confront our abusers. This is a huge folly, because our abusers will only invalidate us further. The only means of gaining closure is through either the traditional confrontation letter, empty chair, or getting creative. My solution to my rage at my father was creating my confrontation rap. I took the confrontation letter and infused it with creativity. I never sent it to my father, nor do I plan on ever doing so.
This is the part where I point out my year of rage flashbacks article one more time (here). In the opening, my amygdala was completely hijacked the day I saw my father for who he was the whole time. I had grabbed my phone with the intent of cussing him out because I had lost my senses. Had I not blocked my parents years prior, there isn’t a doubt in my mind that I would have made that phone call and promptly “reset” my own “no contact clock.” To this very day, I have love and gratitude for me in 2009, for blocking my parents from my phone. I had no way of knowing what I would be saving myself from a full decade later.