In this installment, I want to share the poignant story of my daughters: Amelia, 43; Beth, 42; and Clara, 36. Two of them are already divorced, while one has remarried. Each daughter has passed on the cycle of pain, raising sons who seem to carry the weight of our family’s struggles.
We faced significant hardships as I relocated us in search of better opportunities, hoping to provide them with a solid education and scholarships through a prestigious high school. My eldest, Amelia, earned a scholarship thanks to a heartfelt letter I wrote advocating for her. Beth, who was in the same class, chose to prioritize her relationship over academics. Now in her early 40s, she has finally obtained her nursing degree, but her anger and propensity for risk-taking concern me. Her past outbursts of aggression have left scars, both on her and her son, and when I filed a complaint regarding her behavior, she moved away, cutting off all communication.
Amelia, who came to America during the “Baby Airlift” in April 1975 from South Vietnam, was just a baby when I was pregnant with Beth. I raised them with the hope that they would remain close. Clara, born six years later, often felt sidelined and turned to relationships far too early, which led her into a second marriage with a much younger man and a new baby at just 36.
Clara’s relationship with me has been conditional; she dictates the terms of our interactions. She lived with my husband and me for several years, leaving unresolved financial issues that have strained my marriage. My biggest fear is that Amelia’s marriage to an older man has created a dynamic that isolates her. I met him briefly while he was working at Disney, but she never formally introduced him to me. When she graduated college, she chose not to walk for the ceremony; instead, he whisked her away to Dallas, and I never got to celebrate her achievement.
After Amelia discovered her husband’s infidelity, I hoped she would assert her independence. Unfortunately, she returned home for a visit, and during a heated exchange, she lashed out at me and left with Beth. Months passed without contact, and I later learned that they had reconciled. My heart sank as I recognized that despite her incredible accomplishments, Amelia seemed to believe that no one else would love her as much as he did.
I once sent her an article about the Lacey Peterson case in a bid to raise her awareness of possible dangers. Her husband responded with a disparaging email, calling me the worst mother imaginable and suggesting I should have left her in an orphanage. The shock of such vitriol was overwhelming. For over two years in the early 1970s, I fought against all odds to bring a sick infant from a war-torn country to a loving home, and now I was being vilified by someone who claimed to care for her.
Since my mother’s passing in 2008, I have had no contact with Amelia. Her husband has maintained control over her, despite her brilliance in her career field. They have moved several times, and now settled in a new state where they built a home together. He works in insurance, which adds to my concerns. At their wedding, I was directed to sit next to a woman who had endured a difficult divorce, and I sensed the complications surrounding their family dynamics.
The influence of her husband’s family appears to have clouded Amelia’s judgment, convincing her to reconcile with someone who has a questionable past. I never intended to burden anyone with my story, but it weighs heavily on my heart. I wish my daughters had been able to navigate their challenges with resilience, rather than seeking solace in unhealthy relationships. For more insights on the complexities of relationships with sociopaths and narcissists, you can read this article on mirroring or learn more about sociopaths.