The woman stood once more on the edge of the empty graves. Her body shook with anger, sadness, shock, and despair. How can this be happening again? Why weren’t my efforts good enough to keep my family together? She had forgiven the years of psychological abuse. She had opened her home up for the holidays, birthdays, and other special events to make sure they felt loved and accepted. All of it was in vain. Waves of abandonment and rejection crashed on top of her. She couldn’t breathe. Her legs collapsed and she fell to her knees and wept. Every emotion that had been carefully hidden away for years came ripping through her rib cage causing pain.
Her thoughts tumbled one after another as she struggled to process reality. With tears streaming down her face, she quietly spoke, “You are so in love with yourself, your pride, your arrogance, your narcissism. You don’t care who you hurt. We are all your toys, pawns in your psychological games. Boredom surrounds you, so you need to create drama, status, and pain to keep you interested in life. You dressed me up, had tea parties with me and late- night chats. It was fun being your doll when I was younger, but then I committed the unpardonable sin. I grew up and that was unforgiveable. You dangled love and acceptance in front of me like a piece of cheese luring me into your traps. It was always out of reach. When you got bored with the game, I was discarded, thrown into the heap of other broken toys. Years later, you remembered me and pulled me out of the heap. I thought maybe this time it would be different, but it wasn’t. Narcissists don’t forgive. You blamed the toy for leaving you, but how can a toy leave? It is has no functioning body parts, no feelings, no cognitive reasoning. Only the human owner can put those attributes on a toy. No, you stripped me of my humanness and reduced me to an object to be rejected over and over and over. With the lure of love and acceptance once again dangling over me, I tried to play well. I tried to outwit you to earn some smidgeon of respect. It was overwhelming trying to beat you at your stupid game. I grew weary. My body was so full of cracks and tears from you beating on it.
Your hate and jealousy for the doll finally consumed you. You moved the wrong pawn, and I said check mate. I packed up the chess game and put it away. With arrogance, you picked me up and threw me once more upon the discard pile. I smiled. I knew that I had been thrown on the pile that was being removed to a better place. I have been told that there was another life, one that would allow me to feel, think, and heal. You played your last game and you don’t even realize it. Whenever you decide to pull me out of the heap, you’ll find that I’m no longer there.”
The woman carefully dried her tears and a new determination took hold of her. To have freedom a sacrifice has to be made, she realized. She needs to give up the dreams of one day having a mother that cared about her. A mother that would send a text saying she was proud of her. A mother that was interested in her life rather than criticizing it. A mother that she could ask advice and to turn for comfort when she was sad and tired. “Goodbye my imaginary mother. I would have loved you well had you existed,” the woman whispered as she threw a daisy into the grave.
She continued to stare at the empty grave. Who was I mourning? A mother that never existed? The daughter that was only a toy? Am I mourning for what could have been? Or the years wasted in playing the game? She stood up and carefully dusted herself off. She looked toward the sounds of distant laughter. This toy with its limb half torn and heart crushed had a new family. Life will be different and the doll will learn to be human for the first time.