“Emotional Object Constancy, like Emotional Permanence, allows a person to understand that just because they are in an argument with someone they're in a relationship with, it doesn't mean the relationship is over or that the other person doesn't care about them.” (Better Help)

I’m looking at old photos of my mom and feeling like a shitty daughter. This always happens. I see pictures with people I once loved and feel sad and ashamed. It’s like I forget how it felt to love someone when there’s ever an argument or disagreement, and with my mom, there were many. This is splitting. Splitting is such a staple to intimacy in all my close relationships that I flinch at the thought of getting close to anyone. How confusing it must be to be close to me.

My mom and I were close. I still remember looking out the window every five minutes at the faint sound of cars, hoping it was her, like some needy puppy. I remember calling her work phone every hour. If I couldn't reach her, I became triggered, imagining she got into a car accident or was actively ignoring me. When she got home I’d fight with her almost like an angry spouse who had just caught their partner cheating. She was my original FP (favorite person) and I loved her the most, but this meant I also split on her the most -hated her the most.

I slept in her bed until I was 12 and couldn’t fall asleep without her unless I masturbated until I was too tired to stay up. I didn’t fantasize about anything sexual; I did it to fall asleep. My addiction to masturbating lead me down a weird path of feeling numb during sex in my 20’s, despite having a sex addiction, but more on my complex sex trauma in another post. I just wonder if she ever knew what I was doing. Why wouldn’t she stop me? Correct me? Give me other ways to cope?

At 13, my mom and I grew apart due to constant miscommunication. Though she doted on me, our relationship lacked trust. She would mislead me in so many ways just to get me to abide by her rules. There was never direct parenting. Aggressive passivity is what I’d call it, which in some ways feels worse than outright aggression because it’s just so mindfucky and confusing. I resented her for that.

Things started to get better when I got a job, moved out, and made decisions independently, like addressing my illnesses (that she didn’t believe in) with a therapist and moving in with my new FP, my boyfriend. I had one or two outbursts when I’d visit (she insinuated I looked ‘crazy’ and couldn’t get a job), but now out on my own and no longer at the risk of being tricked by her lies, things were less tumultuous. I even started to miss her.

In the past few years, our relationship turned into something new. Not exactly the kind of mother daughter relationship where I could tell her about my BPD (she isn’t very emotionally available), but the kind that relies on light banter and gift-giving to show love. A few seminal moments are her talking me through the night while I was grieving the loss of my dog and then through the day whenever I was swamped with work anxiety. We never dive too deep, but she is always there. 

I was up late having intrusive thoughts about my mom suddenly dying of an aneurysm and thought, “Oh I miss her…”. Why my thoughts of death are my strongest indication for love and care, I’ll never know, but that’s me -that’s my sliver of emotional permanence and I will take what I can get. 

Maybe I’ll frame the photos.