Connie's Coda*
Monthly Column by Constance Gilbert

You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body
and knit me together in my mother's womb.
Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!
Your workmanship is marvelous-and how well I know it.
You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion,
as I was woven together in the dark of the womb.
You saw me before I was born.
Every day of my life was recorded in your book.
Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.
(Psalm 139:13-16 NLT)

In Irregular People Joyce Landorf Heatherley offers “wise and healing words to help you deal with those insensitive family members who have crushed your spirit with their emotional neglect and abuse.”

“Most of us have at least one person in their life who truly makes living a pain in the derrière. What heightens the pain is that person is not a mere acquaintance of ours. No, unfortunately it is more complicated than that, for we are related to them.

That person is insensitive - blind and mute - to your deepest needs, no matter how hard you try to please them ... leaving you feeling rejected.”

Joyce Landorf Heatherley's words are as true today as when she wrote them in 1982.

My irregular person? My mother, the woman who carried me for nine months in her womb and was supposed to nurture me from infancy to adulthood.

Complication number one: World War II was impacting everyone. My Baby Book indicates that via the gifts I received and the ration stamps tucked in the back. Flour, sugar, butter, meat, canned fruit and vegetables, coffee and shoes required ration stamps in order to purchase them. If you had a car, you could only get 3-4 gallons of gas per week, and the tires were needed for the war effort. Even the left over fat and oil from cooking was saved. And fuel oil was also limited to 10 gallons per month. Not an easy time to be pregnant or care for an infant.

Complication number two came when I was only a few months old. My mother was pregnant again and determined that she would not have two babies in diapers. According to an aunt, “that ended (my) childhood.”

My brother was born prematurely, when I was ten months old, and required surgery soon after his birth. No time to cuddle and nurture either of us. Our baby sister arrived two years later.

During my first five years, we moved frequently as my father looked for work. He was an aviation mechanic, but was discharged within a few months due to a heart murmur. At a time when few people drove, being a mechanic wasn't a worthwhile skill. My mother had attended business school, so she worked days as a bookkeeper. Dad worked nights as a short-order cook.

When I was 7 years old, we moved from Wisconsin to Michigan, where Dad had family and he was finally able to find work as a mechanic in a transmission factory.

By then, my irregular person had already convinced me that I was “not good enough.” Many years later, I would discover that my mother had run away from home and was living with a married man, my father, when I was born. (He eventually was divorced, but they never married.)

Add my mother's confusing behaviors and it's a wonder any of my siblings and I made it into adulthood. At home (when no one but family was around), Mom was demanding - she had to be the center of attention at all times. This led to continuous arguments between my parents, and an unnatural jealousy of her own children.

To the outside world, Mom was a pleasant, out-going woman, who everyone liked. She never forgot a face and almost always remembered everyone's name. But, like the bookkeeper she was, she kept a set of mental books. Everything she did for people - including her children - was noted and she expected a large return from her investment. She never, ever did anything without an alternative motive...always something to benefit her. She courted people for years, intending to obtain their money or other assets.

She was so convincing that she became the President of Women's Ministries and later the church board secretary. Not to serve...but to gain status, knowledge and power over others.

Meanwhile, on the home front, her guard came down. She taught me to care for my siblings, clean house, cook, iron, and all the other domestic skills so I could do them instead of her. I rarely had time to be a child. As I grew, school performance was expected to be perfect. But remember, nothing was “good enough.” If I got an A, my paper should have been neater. If I was quiet with good manners, I should speak up and be more conversational in class. It was always a no-win situation for me.

On the rare occasions that I had friends over, she dominated the scene. Her charm always led to my friends wanting to come to my house because I had “such a great, understanding mother.” They weren't there, after their visits, when I was punished for trivial things for the next two weeks. It took years for me to understand she was jealous.

The only things I was allowed to do or participate in were things that made my mother look good.

I need to add an important fact here. She never was as hard on my siblings as she was on me. They have their own stories to tell and she was their “irregular “ person as well. However, as often happens in someone with a personality disorder, her focus was on me. When my siblings misbehaved, it was my fault. When my sister didn't complete her chores, it was my fault. When they were disciplined, so was I.

Joyce Landorf Heatherley's words fit me perfectly. I had a crushed spirit and always felt rejected by my mother's insensitivity to my needs and her emotional neglect and abuse.

Now that you have a peek at my irregular person, you may be able to relate and recognize your irregular person. So how do we understand that person's behaviors? How do we develop coping strategies? How do we handle our own emotions and responses? And, most important, can we forgive and seek reconciliation?

Or, if you're like I was, those questions become, “Why, Lord? Why did you give me these parents?” When we continue, I'll share the life-freeing answer. It took me over 50 years to figure it out, you can know next month.

Until then, I leave you with one thought: God does NOT make mistakes!

Read No Mistakes Made, Part 2

---

About the Author: Connie is currently writing a book on Breaking the Chains of emotional abuse. She is the coauthor of "Christ's Light: In and Beyond Us" (an e-book), and she writes for several Christian publications. Connie would love for you to visit her blog site found at www.consheartstrings.blogspot.com. She can be contacted by e-mail to: cgeewriter@yahoo.com.