I used to fantasies what it might be like when therapy was all over. That it would take a year or two to get over my fear of people, and all my problems would be solved. I didn’t suffer sexual abuse, or much physical abuse for that matter. There was no great trauma in my life either. It took many years of therapy for me to be ready and willing to hear the words, "You were not loved by your mother." I asked then if she cared about me at all. Not even that!
I still remember that session. I was in my early 50's and had established a strong acceptance of the only person I ever trusted, my shrink. I wanted to tell him he was wrong, and quickly searched my memory box for examples that would prove me right. I was wrong. Just like everything about me was wrong when I was a child.
And yet not one person who has known about my past, besides my brother and sister has in any way criticized my mother. I guess it has something to do with how we are meant to perceive the holier than thou word, 'mother.' And for a mother not to even care about her child, surely the child is at fault?
The thought of a mother being a sociopath is perhaps too horrifying for people to comprehend, but there you go, think again.