Rationale for No Contact

Finding the answers to questions I’ve had all my life

Photo by Alfred Kenneally on Unsplash

Questions growing up

You see, I’ve had so many questions growing up and I was never satisfied with the answers I was fed. How could I possibly have been responsible for my mother getting in trouble back in high school, before I was born, before she had even met my father? But somehow, in her brain, I was.


Psychologists have a name for it — projection. It’s a type of identity swap. My mother watched me very carefully, like an actress studying for a part, and mimicked me. She took on all my sweet, tender qualities and gave me all of her ugly ones. Weird as it sounds, it’s surprisingly easy to do that to a little child who doesn’t know any better.

My Mother Revealed

As I entered my teen years, I began to notice the joy my mother found in hurting other people. After she had injured a guy I only knew as Mr. Somebody-or-other, and was close to being exposed as the creature she really was, I found myself responsible for what she had done. The hard part is, I never found out what I was being blamed for. She would talk about me to others with the strict instruction, “Don’t tell her!” So these people would look at me strangely, avoid me when they could, and they never told me why. The blank expression on my face made me look and feel even dumber.

When I thought I was safe

So when I got married, moved a thousand miles away and started buying books, I came across some very interesting information. One by one, I was finding answers to all those questions.

Pam’s Punch Bowl

So. When I was about eighteen, relatives got together for some reason lost to memory. The whole boatload of us went out shopping. The boys went one direction, and I climbed into the back seat of Pam’s car with my mother, my paternal grandmother, and two aunts.

Impetus for No Contact

So, I was elated to see this story written up in a book by an expert on the subject. I felt validated. I was seeing things clearly. I was not the crazy one. There really was a reason for events like these to make me uncomfortable, to frighten me. As I progressed through the book, I began to recognize my mother as a very dangerous person, someone I should cross the street to avoid. Someone with whom I should share nothing.

No Contact

From my end, severing contact with my mother was actually easier than I thought it would be. I simply quit calling her. I ignored the phone when I saw her name on caller ID. I just stopped giving her the attention she fed on. As I ignored her, I discovered how much life-force she had been extracting from me. Without her influence, I had more energy than ever before, I was less nervous, more confident.

Good work! You’ve found my personal journal. I tell the truth here, and I find the process incredibly healing. You might too. So go ahead. Take a peek.