The end of the mom chapter.

It’s done, I ended my relationship with my covert-narcissistic mother. It was a long time coming and even though I want to believe that everyone is capable of growth, even narcissists, I don’t have it in me to be the catalyst of change for my mom.

For the past few months, I’ve been wondering what would hurt most: to not have my mom at my wedding, or to have her there knowing she judges some of my friends as being in need of healing or being incorrect, to know she was wrapping them in the same mantle of shame she wrapped me in. My godmother tried to have a talk with her, to see if she was open to realizing that posting publicly on her blog that being trans is a defect is completely unacceptable. I don’t know how that conversation went, but my mother ended up writing me an email in which she said she didn’t want to come to my wedding because she feels judged—the irony. She accused me of wanting her to change —the irony—, she accused me of speaking publicly against her —again, the irony—, and then gaslit me by saying she accepts trans people (and all people) as they are and does not support laws that force change, which is a complete lie, because the last time I was at her house she stated that she supports Trump’s executive order on trans people because “God doesn’t make mistakes.”

Hypocrisy, gaslighting, judgments, and layers upon layers of shame… to be honest, I’m just happy to be rid of such a painful relationship. The truth is, I grieved the space a mother should occupy in one’s life years ago. When I talk about my mother in therapy, she is “the lady whose house I lived in.” I think my mother wanted to have children because she wanted someone to love her unconditionally, but she probably never realized that to receive unconditional love, you also have to give it. One thing is certain: she regretted her choice to have children pretty early in our lives. Additionally, her current husband is a great father and family is at the center of his life, I am quite certain my mother’s attempt at having a relationship with me was only a performance for his benefit.

I think it’s the first time in my life I’ve ended a relationship with someone and I mean it. I don’t want her to apologize, I don’t want to fix things with her, I’m not going to feel like our relationship is a liminal phase. My mom is fine, she has a husband whose pension she can live off, a house on a lake, and all the peace she wants from people telling her she’s wrong—because she prefers to live a lie alone rather than be told she’s wrong. I am finally rid of the woman who told my own son that I don’t need medication for mental illness, that I’m just refusing to do the things I need to do to heal myself out of laziness. I am rid of the woman who used my last suicide attempt to bypass travel regulations during COVID and yet only saw me for a few hours during her two weeks stay in Montreal. I am rid of the woman who would post on Facebook articles entitled “5 ways to get rid of depression” so that everyone knew I was responsible for my depression and that there is no such thing as bipolar disorder. I am finally rid of the woman who made me feel unworthy of the air I breathe, and maybe, it will finally allow me to breathe easier.