Mommy Dearest

My mother is a 73 year old narrow-minded, combative woman who is so stuck in her ways and views that I am convinced there is absolutely zero hope of her changing before she dies. I limit my time with her to short once a month visits lasting no more than a few hours. Recently, I had the opportunity to observe her during a restaurant meal and realized that she is getting worse with age. Her viewpoint on life is that it is meant to be all struggle, no joy and that is truly how she comes across. It appears far more emotionally charged to the daughter who has staked a claim in successfully working through hard times and finding the joy in every moment however even those people who did not grow up inside my origin family can clearly see my mother for who she is. There has been no mellowing of personality, no letting go what she cannot control. She seems to be ill at ease and not at peace. For this, I truly feel sorry for her but it is hard to sympathize with a person who will immediately cut you off mid-sentence and abruptly change the subject simply because she doesn’t like what you have to say. The fact that this scenario has played out over and over in front of my own children doubles my resolve to use her to teach them how not to treat people.

It does makes me sad but not the way it used to which was one that profoundly affected my own state of mind and caused me to uselessly long for what I would never have, a healthy, mutually beneficial relationship with my mother. I would never not be harshly and unfairly judged for harboring a difference of opinion, nor would others who lived their lives outside of her rigid beliefs. Nowadays, I have made my peace with the mother I have and have let go of what will never be. This was far easier said than done and I struggled for decades to come to terms with my reality. Many times I was devastated to find that just when thought I had our relationship handled, one swift, cutting word out of her mouth found me right back at the drawing board, picking myself up and wondering how much longer I would suffer over this pattern.

Lately, I have noticed a shift in my thinking where I now look at my successful navigation of my mother’s difficult personality as the ultimate opportunity. If I could master my response to her, I could deal with just about any negative personality in any situation. When I explored this, I found for the first time, a sense of excitement over our encounters and a sense of fun in correctly predicting her responses ahead of time while joking about it with my husband. It helps to have a supportive person in your corner even if that person didn’t grow up in the same household. Joking went a long way in diffusing the emotional charge that automatically comes with a dysfunctional mother relationship and I highly recommend it. I also found that talking with a more objective person had benefits over hashing it out with a sibling in that there is less tendency for both parties to wallow in the misery of growing up with the same parent. It can be cathartic to a point but for myself there existed the fine line of crossing over into depression.

Mother Knows Best

Like many of us, I view the Mother role as the quintessential foundation from which all subsequent relationships form. The Father role is just as crucial but in a completely different way. For all intents and purposes, this essay is about Mommy.

Being a mother myself I can tell you with certainty that it has nothing to do with what you know and what you know does not necessarily translate into knowing best. The person you are independent of your parental status is what counts. Our ability to remain curious, consider alternate points of view, and seek education in all areas of life throughout our lifespan largely determines what kind of parents we will be throughout our children’s lives. Growing up, my mother provided for her kids’ physical needs without fault. However, she was a rather cold, stoic women who was incapable of showing warmth, empathy, and compassion save in the most measured doses and only when we were at our most down and out. We should not have had to fall to our lowest point to gain the nurturing we craved.

They Always Blame the Mother

I in no way blame my mother for any of the choices I have made or the way my life has turned out. The undesirable parts of my life and the things I want to change are solely my responsibility. I see no reason to endure long standing therapy sessions designed to stir up misery with no release. I prefer using my experience to better my life and positively affect my relationships with others. In other words, I refuse to go through all this pain and not turn it into something positive. I never bought into the belief that we choose our parents but when I think about that belief now, maybe there is some validity to it. Life offers endless opportunities to learn lessons that are uniquely ours to learn. These lessons have a way of showing up over and over again until we face them head on. My mother’s profound ignorance and close-mindedness actually keeps me mindful of the way I come across to others. It keeps me aware of my own moments of ignorance or unfair judgments. It is a remarkable tool for living a life of integrity and showing up as the person I most want to be.

Yet, I have known from a young age that my mother would not have my back in the ways that mattered most. This has been very difficult to come to terms with. Right from the start, there was a breach in trust, something unacceptable to me even back then. It is only now that I can articulate exactly what went wrong with our relationship early on. I can actually pinpoint it to the exact day. In spite of this, I have spent years being surprised over her words and actions all the while blaming myself for falling prey to them. It took me a long time to trust in my own wisdom. For a long time I didn’t know that a child can have the integrity and loyalty that a parent lacks. I literally had to change my paradigms.

If the truth was distasteful or abhorrent to my mother, it simply did not exist. Global warming does not exist in her world nor does the Trans gender’s truth of knowing that they were born into the wrong body or the homosexual’s awareness that they are indeed attracted to the same sex. These are rather the results of serious mental impairments and a life devoid of God and no amount of evidence to the contrary will convince her otherwise. Nor does she have any interest in healthy debate. She will simply shut you down, ruthlessly causing feelings of stupidity and shame. The truth itself does not matter. I have questioned over and over again how I could have even been born to this woman. Learning to live with people who think like my mother while simultaneously working to have a relationship with them in spite of who they are has been one of the hardest things I have ever done or will ever do. I have long since known that if I was ever caught in the cross-hairs and needed her support, I would be sacrificed. This has caused me to understand in a visceral way that even though there is a person alive that gave birth to me whom I call mother, I never felt that I had one in the truest sense of the word. Have I forgiven her for her incapability? The answer is no but I don’t need to forgive her to have her in my life. I do the best I can and forgive myself the rest.

As my mother becomes more set in her ways and more resolute in her convictions, I have finally realized that I am not crazy. For years I wondered what I was doing wrong in our relationship, why she felt that I didn’t know my own mind. I thought that I was the one being dramatic and overly sensitive in my reactions to her. I bought into this and ignored what my own instincts were telling me. Now, there is no question as to the rigidity and stagnation that mark my mother’s mind, a mind that refuses to grow and evolve.

Go with Grace

One day, if all goes according to the law of nature, I will bear witness to my mother’s death. She will be gone from this earth and I will say a final goodbye. I don’t think I will miss her but I could be wrong. I guess we’ll see. I am far more concerned that my own actions with her today do not cause me any regret after she is gone. I often think about that moment, not so much in preparation but rather as a way of getting a glimpse into how I would feel. The feelings that surround my thoughts of her death might surprise some people but to me they are the most normal indications of the road I have travelled with her. I am not in the habit of bating my mother or engaging in big dramatic exchanges solely to indulge myself in “really telling her off.” The opportunity to do this in a way that won’t negatively affect others has not presented itself in a very long time. It wouldn’t do a bit of good anyway. I do state my beliefs when I feel it necessary. I do my fair share of eye rolling at some of the outlandish things that come out of her mouth, often without warning. I diffuse negative emotions by using laughter. I make sure that my kids are clear on mine and my husband’s position on the subjects we feel matter most. I work very hard to lead them by example rather than just words. I don’t believe the push and pull will automatically end once she’s gone. Life doesn’t work that way. I choose instead to be grateful for the endless opportunities for further awareness and growth. I now accept the challenges that a mother like mine will offer and the endless rewards that come from conquering them.