EMOTIONAL ABUSE AND ADHD: MY JOURNEY THROUGH THE PAIN

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Emerging from a toxic relationship with my mother has been one of the most painful experiences of my life. My mother was diagnosed with Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD), and I have Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (RSD). Despite these challenges, I usually managed to keep my composure. However, there was one incident that stands out vividly, revealing the depth of my emotional turmoil and the stark reality of having a mother who truly didn’t love me.

My mother had asked me to take her to the bank one afternoon. Reluctantly, I agreed, knowing how difficult these interactions could be. On the way, she started to panic about her dwindling bank balance. Her anxiety quickly morphed into anger, and she began blaming me for all her problems. She berated me about my job, my abilities, and my intelligence. Each word felt like a knife, cutting deeper into my already fragile self-esteem. Then, suddenly, she started hitting me while I was driving. Her rage was terrifying and brutal, more than I can describe.

My RSD kicked in the moment she laid a hand on me. A fiery anger surged through me, more intense than anything I had ever felt. I pressed the gas pedal as hard as I could, driven by a reckless need to retaliate, to make her feel the pain she had inflicted on me for so long. But somehow, I didn’t crash. Perhaps a small part of me, buried deep beneath the rage, clung to self-preservation. I managed to pull over, my hands shaking on the steering wheel. The impact of that moment was seared into my memory, and I swore I would never drive her anywhere again. I never did.

Reflecting on that day, I realize how deeply her words and actions affected me. My mother had always been around, but she was never really there for me. My father took me to doctor appointments, checked me out of school, and dealt with my grades and boyfriends. My mother was never directly involved; our interactions were limited to superficial topics. It wasn’t until my father died of lung cancer that I became the target of her venomous behavior.

After his death, I took her into my home out of obligation as her only child. This decision cost me years of emotional abuse, eroding my self-esteem. She constantly criticized and demeaned me, despite the fact that I was doing everything for her—shopping, picking up her meds, taking her to doctor appointments, and serving her meals in her room every single day.

My mother and I were complete opposites in every sense:

• I am too sensitive; she has no emotions.
• I don't talk behind anyone's back; she talks behind everyone's back.
• I am a deep person; she only has a superficial side.
• I'm open-minded; she thinks everyone who doesn't think like her should end up in hell.
• She is fake; I don't pretend.
• I don't get consumed with greed; greed drives her to do unthinkable things.
• I can feel empathy for people; she can only feel empathy for herself.
• Everything is my fault; nothing has ever been her fault, ever.
• I feel guilt over things that aren't even my fault; she doesn't understand what guilt feels like.

The painful truth is simple: she just didn't care. Her presence forced me to become self-aware, pulling my head out of the clouds and confronting the harsh reality of my life. People often preach about the importance of self-awareness, but in my case, it was far from thrilling. It was painful, especially when my sense of self was already fragile. Daydreaming and zoning out had been my refuge, my way of escaping into a world of endless possibilities. She stole that from me, dragging me back into a reality I didn’t want to face.

In my search for understanding, I sought stories about Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (RSD). I needed to know if anyone else had experienced emotional abuse so devastating that it destroyed their ability to bounce back. Admitting that my mother hated me to the point of trying to bring me down while I was caring for her is incredibly difficult. It's hard to wrap my head around her behavior. She acted out of a quest for power and control, using the love and admiration of others as tools for domination and manipulation, believing it was her right and that she was justified. She showed no guilt, no apologies, and no remorse for her actions.

She would cross any line to achieve her desires. Lacking a moral compass, she didn't have the usual sense of "right and wrong." She exhibited no remorse, regret, or guilt after causing harm. Instead, she seemed satisfied with the pain she inflicted, treating it all as a game in which I was an unwilling participant. She had a distorted sense of reality and thrived on my negative emotions and energy. The drama, fear, pain, and chaos of disaster appeared to excite and energize her.

This is exactly what happened to me. My mother attacked me so many times that she extinguished the one thing I cherished the most: hope. She exposed me to a darkness I wish I had never seen. I am trying to make the last eight years of emotional abuse mean something, because right now, it feels like it was all for nothing but pure hatred. I struggle to accept that there isn't a bigger purpose.

Sometimes, my mind dives so deeply into despair that I wonder why the universe couldn’t just take my mother away. As harsh as it sounds, her sole purpose in life seemed to be making me miserable. She had no other reason to exist.

I constantly question why this happened. I would have been happier if I had never known the extent of her incapacity to care for anyone other than herself. I would have been content believing she was an okay grandmother when, in reality, she was terrible. I’m not someone who needs to know the harsh truth; in fact, I would rather not. I resent her the most for forcing me to endure her cruelty. She exploited my compassion, knowing I wouldn’t kick her out onto the streets. I still wish I had, but deep down, I know I couldn’t have. I took care of her, yet she relentlessly found ways to hurt me. She once admitted she treated me like a punching bag but didn’t elaborate. She lacked depth and couldn’t understand others' perspectives. If someone disagreed with her, they were simply "dumb."

She knew her family would believe whatever she said. Why wouldn’t they? She had no real relationships with anyone except my father. She saw her extended family for only a couple of hours every few years. They didn’t know her true nature. She was my mother, and if she said I was bad, they took it as fact. She was aware of my hypersensitivity to criticism. She would have had to be blind not to notice it growing up. She knew how deeply I would internalize her harsh words, yet she never hesitated.

Emerging from this relationship, I realize the extent of the damage done. My mother's behavior wasn't just a byproduct of her mental illness—it was a calculated effort to control and dominate me. The scars left behind are deep, but I am working towards healing. Understanding the dynamics of NPD and RSD has given me insight into why she behaved the way she did and how profoundly it affected me. I am determined to make sense of these years of emotional abuse, to find a purpose in the pain, and to rebuild the hope she tried so hard to extinguish.

The Incident: A Turning Point

Living with a mother diagnosed with Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD) is a profound challenge, further complicated by the emotional hypersensitivity of Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (RSD) often associated with ADHD. One incident remains etched in my memory, highlighting the depth of my emotional turmoil and the stark reality of my mother’s toxic behavior.

One afternoon, my mother asked me to take her to the bank. Reluctantly, I agreed, anticipating the difficulties that usually accompanied our interactions. As we drove, her anxiety about her dwindling bank balance quickly turned into anger. She began berating me about my job, my abilities, and my intelligence. Each word felt like a knife, cutting deeper into my already fragile self-esteem. Suddenly, in a terrifying escalation, she started hitting me while I was driving. My RSD kicked in immediately, fueling a fiery anger that surged through me. I pressed the gas pedal recklessly, driven by an intense need to retaliate. Miraculously, I didn’t crash, managing to pull over with shaking hands. That moment became a defining point, and I swore never to drive her anywhere again.

Reflecting on the Pain

Reflecting on that day, I realize how deeply her words and actions affected me. My mother had always been physically present, but emotionally, she was absent. My father had been the one to take me to doctor appointments, handle my school issues, and deal with my personal life. My mother’s involvement was limited to superficial interactions. After my father’s death, I took her into my home out of obligation as her only child. This decision subjected me to years of emotional abuse, eroding my self-esteem further.

She constantly criticized and demeaned me, despite my efforts to care for her. Her presence forced me to confront my vulnerabilities, a painful process given my existing struggles with ADHD and RSD. Daydreaming and zoning out had been my refuge, but she stole that from me, dragging me back into a harsh reality I didn’t want to face.

The Breaking Point

The truth about my mother’s nature was too much for me to comprehend initially. How could a mother be so disrespectful to the daughter taking care of her? My mind refused to accept it. I felt like I was living in a nightmare, waking up each day only to find myself still trapped. During the pandemic, she falsely reported me for abuse, telling her brother I was holding her hostage and not feeding her. Eventually, he took her away and filed a claim against me with the Department of Children’s Services.

I thought I was done with her, but she returned, demanding to stay. She refused to fill out the Medicaid application for long-term care, leaving me no choice but to cut her off emotionally. I limited our interactions to a few minutes, standing outside her doorway to avoid her wrath. She hated that I no longer listened to her demands, but I refused to let her hurt me any further.

The Depth of Resentment

My resentment towards my mother grew:

• I resented her for forcing me to endure her cruelty.
• I resented her for telling family members lies about me.
• I resented her for not loving me and not allowing me to defend myself.
• I resented her for having nothing to do with her grandchildren.
• I resented her for always making me feel inadequate.
• I resented her for lacking empathy and playing the victim.

Emerging from a toxic relationship with my mother has been a deeply painful and transformative experience. It wasn't by her own free will that she left; I reached a breaking point where her temperament became unbearably volatile. Living with her was like being near a ticking bomb—I never knew when she would explode, but I always knew it was inevitable. I believed that taking her in would provide her with a sense of family and love. However, I couldn't have been more wrong. Every single day, I regretted that decision. How did I miss the signs? The truth is, I had blinders on and was comfortable having them there.

My mother had never been responsible for anything in her life. My father never pushed her to work, drive, pay bills, make appointments, or do the grocery shopping. After he passed away, I felt sorry for her and assumed she wouldn't make it on her own. I had no idea she would give up on herself and blame me for it. I never imagined my mother would end up hating me. I thought I was doing the right thing by taking her in, considering she had no life outside of my dad. She never showed interest in making friends or getting a job. She never attacked me as a child, teenager, or young adult; I now understand that my dad was always mediating between us. I realize now that I wouldn't have survived my mother as a child without his intervention. She caused significant damage to me as an adult.

Our differences are stark:

• I am sensitive; she has no emotions.
• I avoid gossip; she talks behind everyone's back.
• I am a deep person; she is superficial.
• I am open-minded; she believes anyone who doesn't think like her deserves to go to hell.
• I am genuine; she is fake.
• I am not consumed by greed; greed drives her to do unthinkable things.
• I can feel empathy for others; she only feels empathy for herself.
• I feel guilt over things that aren't my fault; she doesn't understand guilt.

The painful truth is simple: she just didn't care.

In my search for understanding, I sought stories about Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (RSD). I needed to know if anyone else had experienced emotional abuse so devastating that it destroyed their ability to bounce back. Admitting that my mother hated me to the point of trying to bring me down while I was caring for her is incredibly difficult. It's hard to wrap my head around her behavior. She acted out of a quest for power and control, using the love and admiration of others as tools for domination and manipulation, believing it was her right and that she was justified. She showed no guilt, no apologies, and no remorse for her actions.

• She would cross any line to achieve her desires. Lacking a moral compass, she didn't have the usual sense of "right and wrong." She exhibited no remorse, regret, or guilt after causing harm. Instead, she seemed satisfied with the pain she inflicted, treating it all as a game in which I was an unwilling participant.
• She had a distorted sense of reality.
• She thrived on my negative emotions and energy. The drama, fear, pain, and chaos of disaster appeared to excite and energize her.

This is exactly what happened to me. My mother attacked me so many times that she extinguished the one thing I cherished the most: hope. She exposed me to a darkness I wish I had never seen. I am trying to make the last eight years of emotional abuse mean something, because right now, it feels like it was all for nothing but pure hatred. I struggle to accept that there isn't a bigger purpose.

Sometimes, my mind dives so deeply into despair that I wonder why the universe couldn’t just take my mother away. As harsh as it sounds, her sole purpose in life seemed to be making me miserable. She had no other reason to exist.

She sat in her room for eight years, she only left to use the restroom. This is how she avoided my children. I was worried about her losing grip on reality, until I realized she was living her life the exact same way she always had. She was a grown adult and I treated her like one. It wasn't my place to tell her how to live her life. Unfortunately, she made the decision over and over again to hurt me, for no apparent reason other than it brought her some satisfaction. That is the reality. 

My father would have never made himself a burden. He would have respected how I felt and wouldn't have caused me emotional pain. My mother didn't do anything productive when my father was alive, she didn't do anything productive after he died. Her only form of entertainment was making me feel horrible.

I constantly question why this happened. I would have been happier if I had never known the extent of her incapacity to care for anyone other than herself. I would have been content believing she was an okay grandmother when, in reality, she was terrible. I’m not someone who needs to know the harsh truth; in fact, I would rather not. I resent her the most for forcing me to endure her cruelty. She exploited my compassion, knowing I wouldn’t kick her out onto the streets. I still wish I had, but deep down, I know I couldn’t have. I took care of her, yet she relentlessly found ways to hurt me. She once admitted she treated me like a punching bag but didn’t elaborate. She lacked depth and couldn’t understand others' perspectives. If someone disagreed with her, they were simply "dumb."

She knew her family would believe whatever she said. Why wouldn’t they? She had no real relationships with anyone except my father. She saw her extended family for only a couple of hours every few years. They didn’t know her true nature. She was my mother, and if she said I was bad, they took it as fact. She was aware of my hypersensitivity to criticism. She would have had to be blind not to notice it growing up. She knew how deeply I would internalize her harsh words, yet she never hesitated.

 Don't think this decision came lightly, I had a very difficult time standing up to my mother. I often felt guilty for allowing her to treat me so poorly. The reality was she had no intention of hearing me. I couldn't have don't anything but kick her out in the streets. At times I believed that is exactly what she wanted, and I would have been the bad guy. It was the concept she was telling people, and it felt like I would just be proving her lies to be right. I generally don't think things out but she was ruthless. If I kicked her out, I am the bad guy she told everyone I was. I am making her right about me. Understand she had ruined so much for me, I couldn't give her another opportunity to do it again.

I couldn't understand her, it was impossible to reason with her, she made everything 6X more difficult, she created problems everywhere she went, no lie was big enough, she never felt remorseful, she never had a tear about our relationship ending. 

I let it go on far too long, and I had to do something to get my message across.

Managing Life with a Narcissistic Mother

To protect myself, I had to change the way I interacted with her:

1. Limiting Information: I stopped giving her any information she could use against me.
2. Setting Boundaries: I stood at her doorway instead of entering her room, maintaining control over our interactions.
3. Time Limits: I limited our conversations to three minutes to avoid her inevitable insults.
4. Prioritizing Myself: I made myself and my family a priority.
5. Ignoring Non-Emergencies: I stopped running to her every time she called my name for non-emergencies.
6. Recognizing Manipulation: I saw through her acts, like pretending to need a diaper, and refused to engage.
7. Cutting Ties After Physical Attack: After she physically attacked me in the car, I never gave her the opportunity again.
8. Matching Empathy Levels: I mirrored the empathy she had for me, which was none, to protect my emotional well-being.
9. Ceasing Explanations: I stopped explaining myself, letting her believe whatever she wanted.

The Impact on Mental Health

Living with my mother severely damaged my mental health. I struggled with the constant rejection, which was particularly harmful due to my ADHD and RSD. My mother’s unsupportive, negative, and disrespectful behavior forced me to confront the reality that she would never change. I had to emotionally cut her off to avoid a disastrous outcome.

Living with a narcissistic mother who didn’t love me was a harsh reality that forced me to confront my own vulnerabilities. Despite the emotional turmoil, it taught me the importance of setting boundaries and protecting my mental health. My mother’s toxicity pushed me to the brink, but ultimately, it made me stronger. I realized that I had to choose between my well-being and her continued abuse. Choosing myself was the hardest but most necessary decision I ever made.

People with RSD experience extreme emotional pain when they feel rejected, criticized, or when they perceive a failure. This pain isn’t just emotional but can manifest physically, such as tightness in the chest, a lump in the throat, or a sense of heaviness. This overwhelming emotional response often strikes at the core of their identity, leading to feelings of sadness, anger, fear, shame, and insecurity.

Physical Manifestations

RSD episodes can have physical effects, such as a tight chest, lump in the throat, or a feeling of heaviness. These physical symptoms are real and contribute to the overall distress experienced during an episode.

Impact on Relationships

RSD can significantly affect interpersonal relationships, particularly intimate ones. The fear of rejection and intense emotional reactions can strain relationships, leading to misunderstandings, conflicts, and a cycle of emotional dysregulation.

Common Relationship Challenges

Experiencing a Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (RSD) episode can be intensely emotional and overwhelming. Individuals with ADHD who experience RSD often describe a cascade of thoughts and feelings that are difficult to control or manage. Here's a breakdown of what it might feel like:

1. Immediate Emotional Reaction:

   • Intense Emotional Pain: The initial feeling is often an overwhelming sense of emotional pain, similar to physical pain. It can be sharp, like a stab, or a dull, aching hurt.
   • Shock and Disbelief: There can be an immediate sense of shock and disbelief, especially if the perceived rejection comes unexpectedly or from someone whose opinion is highly valued.

2. Negative Self-Talk:

   • Self-Criticism: The person may start criticizing themselves harshly, questioning their worth, abilities, and value as a person.
   • Replay of the Event: The mind might replay the triggering event repeatedly, analyzing every detail and amplifying the perceived rejection or criticism.

3. Physical Sensations:

   • Tightness or Pressure: There can be a physical feeling of tightness in the chest or throat, or a sensation of pressure, as if the emotional pain is manifesting physically.
   • Restlessness: The person might feel restless or agitated, unable to sit still or focus on anything else.

4. Emotional Overwhelm:

   • Tears and Crying: Tears may come suddenly, and crying can be intense and uncontrollable.
   • Anger and Frustration: There might be a surge of anger or frustration, sometimes directed inwardly (self-blame) or outwardly (at the perceived source of rejection).

5. Fear and Anxiety:

   • Fear of Future Rejection: A fear of experiencing similar rejections in the future can emerge, leading to anxiety and worry about future interactions and relationships.
   • Social Withdrawal: The person might feel a strong urge to withdraw from social interactions to avoid further rejection.

6. Shame and Embarrassment:

   • Shame: A deep sense of shame can set in, where the person feels fundamentally flawed or unworthy.
   • Embarrassment: They may feel embarrassed about their emotional reaction, especially if it was visible to others.

7. Difficulty Coping:

   • Struggling to Function: It can be challenging to focus on daily tasks or responsibilities. The emotional pain can be so consuming that it interferes with normal functioning.
   • Need for Reassurance: There might be a strong need for reassurance from others to validate their feelings and counter the negative self-talk.

8. Longer-Term Effects:

   • Lingering Emotional Pain: The emotional pain from an RSD episode can linger for a long time, making it difficult to move on.
   • Impact on Self-Esteem: Repeated RSD episodes can significantly impact self-esteem and self-worth, leading to a more pervasive sense of inadequacy or unworthiness.

9. Coping Mechanisms:

   • Seeking Solitude: Some individuals might seek solitude to process their emotions privately.
   • Reaching Out: Others might reach out to trusted friends or loved ones for support and reassurance.
   • Therapeutic Interventions: Engaging in therapy or using coping strategies learned in therapy to manage the intense emotions can be helpful.

Strategies for Managing RSD

**1. Mindfulness and Grounding Techniques: Practicing mindfulness and grounding techniques can help anchor individuals during emotional storms.

2. Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT): CBT can help challenge and reframe negative thought patterns, fostering a healthier perspective on rejection and criticism.

**3. Emotional Regulation Skills: Learning and practicing emotional regulation skills can empower individuals to manage intense emotions more effectively.

**4. Building Supportive Relationships: Surrounding oneself with understanding and supportive people can provide a buffer against the impact of RSD.

**5. Self-Compassion: Cultivating self-compassion can help mitigate the harsh self-criticism often associated with RSD.

**6. Medication: In some cases, medication prescribed by a healthcare professional can help manage symptoms of ADHD and RSD.

Understanding RSD and its interplay with ADHD is crucial for both individuals and those around them. By recognizing the signs and implementing strategies, it’s possible to navigate the challenges and foster resilience in the face of emotional dysregulation.

The last section of this article I want to provide help to those who may be in an abusive relationship, especially if you have ADHD RDS, it's because these people are so vulnerable and without the skills to cope on their own. 

If you are experiencing emotional, verbal, or physical abuse in your relationship please don't hesitate to reach out for help.

The Illusion of Change in Abusive Relationships

Many individuals in abusive relationships hold onto the hope that their partner or family member will change. This hope can be rooted in love, shared history, or the abuser's promises of change. Unfortunately, the cycle of abuse often continues despite these hopes, as abusers may temporarily improve their behavior only to revert to their harmful actions. This cycle creates a powerful illusion that change is just around the corner, trapping the victim in a continuous loop of hope and disappointment.

Recognizing the Signs of Abuse

It's crucial for individuals to recognize the signs of abuse, which can be physical, emotional, psychological, or financial. Common signs include:

• Physical Abuse: Hitting, slapping, choking, or any form of physical harm.
• Emotional Abuse: Insults, humiliation, intimidation, and manipulation.
• Psychological Abuse: Gaslighting, controlling behavior, and isolation from friends and family.
• Financial Abuse: Controlling access to money, sabotaging employment, or stealing funds.

Understanding these signs is the first step in acknowledging the reality of the situation.

The Importance of Self-Worth and Self-Care

Individuals in abusive relationships often suffer from diminished self-worth and confidence. The abuser's constant belittlement can make victims believe they deserve the treatment or that they can't do better. Emphasizing the importance of self-worth and self-care is essential in helping them see their own value and the necessity of their well-being.

Steps to Regain Self-Worth

1. Self-Affirmation: Encourage the individual to engage in positive self-talk and affirmations. Remind them of their strengths, achievements, and inherent value.
2. Seek Support: Encourage them to reach out to trusted friends, family, or support groups who can provide validation and encouragement.
3. Professional Help: Suggest seeking therapy or counseling to rebuild self-esteem and process the trauma of the abuse.

Breaking Free from the Cycle

Leaving an abusive relationship is a complex and often dangerous process. It requires careful planning and support. Here are some steps to consider:

Creating a Safety Plan

1. Identify Safe Spaces: Determine safe places to go in case of an emergency, such as a friend’s house or a domestic violence shelter.
2. Pack an Emergency Bag: Include essentials like identification, important documents, money, medications, and a change of clothes.
3. Code Words: Establish code words with trusted friends or family to signal when help is needed without alerting the abuser.

Seeking Legal Protection

1. Restraining Orders: Inform the individual about restraining orders or protective orders that can legally keep the abuser away.
2. Legal Advice: Encourage them to seek legal counsel to understand their rights and options.

Building a Support Network

1. Support Groups: Connect with support groups for survivors of abuse, which can provide emotional support and practical advice.
2. Hotlines: Provide information on hotlines and organizations dedicated to helping abuse victims, such as the National Domestic Violence Hotline.

Empowering Individuals to Take Action

Empowerment is key in helping someone leave an abusive relationship. It's about instilling the belief that they have the strength and capability to make a change. Here are some ways to empower individuals:

Educating on the Dynamics of Abuse

1. Understanding Abuse: Educate them on the patterns and tactics of abusers, helping them see the manipulative behaviors clearly.
2. Breaking the Silence: Encourage them to talk about their experiences, as sharing can reduce the abuser's power and control.

Encouraging Independence

1. Financial Independence: Encourage steps towards financial independence, such as opening a separate bank account or securing a job.
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2. Personal Goals: Help them set and pursue personal goals, which can provide a sense of purpose and direction.