Section 1
Many of my examples and stories will come from difficult, traumatizing moments in my life that were caused by sources other than Sandra. These were times that I should have been able to rely on the support of a loving mother, but they were made exponentially worse by a selfish woman who cared more about herself and the perceptions of others than my health and well-being.
I'd always struggled with anxiety and depression. It was always swept under the rug. There was an incredible amount of pressure from Sandra for me to appear happy and fulfilled at all times. Anything that would have negatively altered the public perception of our family was hidden or destroyed, without any actual attempt to address the issue. Why wash your face when you can hide everything behind a thick layer of makeup and pretend your imperfections never existed to begin with?
When I went away to college, however, the pressure to perform while pursuing an educational path that was prestigious and completely incompatible with my interests and strengths became too much. I failed several of my classes and came close to requiring hospitalization for my anxiety attacks. I finally made an attempt to help myself by making a few appointments at the university's free women's mental health clinic. The first appointment I attended, the counselor suggested that I might suffer from Bipolar Disorder. I didn't know anything about this disorder, but I mentioned it to my mother during our daily phone call after the appointment.
Sandra. Freaked. Out. It was ludicrous to suggest that one of her children could have Bipolar Disorder. She mandated that I never treat or even allow for a diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder unless I was *certain* that I had this condition. She warned that with this diagnosis, I would never be allowed to operate heavy machinery, etc., and that I would suffer for the entire rest of my life from restrictions brought on by such a crippling false diagnosis.
(I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder and properly medicated eventually. However, because of my mother's strong negative reaction, I went 8 more years without being properly treated.)
Sandra did arrange for me to have counselling when I arrived home for the summer after my first (failed) year at university. This arrangement was made with a woman we knew from a different congregation of our church, with whom I had never really interacted, but who seemed nice. This woman was open and friendly, and I found myself baring my soul to her. This included discussing difficulties in my relationship with my mother. I left the session feeling lighter and with a positive outlook on my potential recovery.
Unfortunately, mental healthcare laws being what they were (or how they were related to me), the fact that my parents' insurance was paying for my treatment meant that they had full access to information from my sessions if they so desired. And Sandra desired. The counselor told her everything I had said, including the difficulties with my mother. Before I had even returned home, my mother had the full story from the counselor.
Sandra was furious. Did she care about fixing our relationship? No. Did she concern herself with my mental health? Not if it involved tarnishing the family's sterling reputation as the most healthy, happy, and devout family in existence.
Sandra forced me to attend my next session with this counselor and "admit" that I had lied about my relationship with my mother. This was of course in itself a lie, but it was a lie that restored the public's positive perception of my family.
It was this situation that kept me from trusting and seeking any other mental health professionals until 2.5 years later.
"Because her abusiveness is part of a lifelong campaign of control and because she is careful to rationalize her abuse, it is extremely difficult to explain to other people what is so bad about her. She’s also careful about when and how she engages in her abuses. She’s very secretive, a characteristic of almost all abusers (“Don’t wash our dirty laundry in public!”) and will punish you for telling anyone else what she’s done." -Harpy's Child
I'd always struggled with anxiety and depression. It was always swept under the rug. There was an incredible amount of pressure from Sandra for me to appear happy and fulfilled at all times. Anything that would have negatively altered the public perception of our family was hidden or destroyed, without any actual attempt to address the issue. Why wash your face when you can hide everything behind a thick layer of makeup and pretend your imperfections never existed to begin with?
When I went away to college, however, the pressure to perform while pursuing an educational path that was prestigious and completely incompatible with my interests and strengths became too much. I failed several of my classes and came close to requiring hospitalization for my anxiety attacks. I finally made an attempt to help myself by making a few appointments at the university's free women's mental health clinic. The first appointment I attended, the counselor suggested that I might suffer from Bipolar Disorder. I didn't know anything about this disorder, but I mentioned it to my mother during our daily phone call after the appointment.
Sandra. Freaked. Out. It was ludicrous to suggest that one of her children could have Bipolar Disorder. She mandated that I never treat or even allow for a diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder unless I was *certain* that I had this condition. She warned that with this diagnosis, I would never be allowed to operate heavy machinery, etc., and that I would suffer for the entire rest of my life from restrictions brought on by such a crippling false diagnosis.
(I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder and properly medicated eventually. However, because of my mother's strong negative reaction, I went 8 more years without being properly treated.)
Sandra did arrange for me to have counselling when I arrived home for the summer after my first (failed) year at university. This arrangement was made with a woman we knew from a different congregation of our church, with whom I had never really interacted, but who seemed nice. This woman was open and friendly, and I found myself baring my soul to her. This included discussing difficulties in my relationship with my mother. I left the session feeling lighter and with a positive outlook on my potential recovery.
Unfortunately, mental healthcare laws being what they were (or how they were related to me), the fact that my parents' insurance was paying for my treatment meant that they had full access to information from my sessions if they so desired. And Sandra desired. The counselor told her everything I had said, including the difficulties with my mother. Before I had even returned home, my mother had the full story from the counselor.
Sandra was furious. Did she care about fixing our relationship? No. Did she concern herself with my mental health? Not if it involved tarnishing the family's sterling reputation as the most healthy, happy, and devout family in existence.
Sandra forced me to attend my next session with this counselor and "admit" that I had lied about my relationship with my mother. This was of course in itself a lie, but it was a lie that restored the public's positive perception of my family.
It was this situation that kept me from trusting and seeking any other mental health professionals until 2.5 years later.
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