Me Madre
A friend of mine is mourning the loss of her mother who died a year ago today. As such she and mothers in general have been on my mind.
It’s time to talk about my mother.
Long time readers of this blog will know that I don’t talk about my mom that much. I do this for privacy. I also do it because my mother and I have a very unique relationship. There are a lot of things I say that just don’t make sense to anyone else but her. I hate being the person in a room who doesn’t get the joke, don’t you? So I keep her out.
It’s time to talk about her.
My mother was born from a woman with a lot of issues. She raised her daughter to have those same issues. When my mother became a mother a whole new mess of issues arose. My mother didn’t deal very well. Then she had a hysterectomy and went into menopause about the same time I entered puberty. She was controlling and … well, abusive (no Joan Crawford, but there just isn’t a light word for “abusive”). Things went downhill fast and by the time I left home, I had no intention of coming back.
For years our relationship was, well, strained at best. I had issues of my own, my mom had issues, and we had issues together. It was a mess. One day I sat down and I realized I had to make a choice. I had to change this relationship with my mom or I had to cut her out of my life completely. By the time my nephew was born I'd made my choice. I sat my mother down and told her we had to start telling each other the truth or we would never make it work. I told her some things that were pretty hard to say, probably even harder to hear. She told me some things. There were a lot of crying and cursing before we became comfortable with this arrangement. I found that I wasn’t perfect (imagine!), and that my mom was willing to work things out.
That was almost 8 years ago. You would never know the troubles we had. I’ve gone from disliking my mother’s presence to enjoying it. We talk more now than we did for years. We are not afraid to say what we think because we trust each other not to use it later for hurting each other. Oh, we’re not perfect. There isn’t a mother/daughter relationship in this world that’s perfect, I think that’s written in our DNA. But I have come to understand something - My mother did the best she could.
I love her. She is one of the few women her age that’s still willing to learn. She is willing to admit when she is wrong. She had the strength and courage to go against everything she was taught and asked for help. She is extremely loyal and fiercely protective. But she will back off if I ask her. She will try anything once (unless it involves the possibility of death. You’ll never see my mother skydiving). If I ask her for anything she will do her best to give it to me. She loves to laugh and have fun, and that is HUGE! She loves me.
She isn’t my friend. Friendship only goes so far in this world. She is my mother and that is infinitely better.
It’s time to talk about my mother.
Long time readers of this blog will know that I don’t talk about my mom that much. I do this for privacy. I also do it because my mother and I have a very unique relationship. There are a lot of things I say that just don’t make sense to anyone else but her. I hate being the person in a room who doesn’t get the joke, don’t you? So I keep her out.
It’s time to talk about her.
My mother was born from a woman with a lot of issues. She raised her daughter to have those same issues. When my mother became a mother a whole new mess of issues arose. My mother didn’t deal very well. Then she had a hysterectomy and went into menopause about the same time I entered puberty. She was controlling and … well, abusive (no Joan Crawford, but there just isn’t a light word for “abusive”). Things went downhill fast and by the time I left home, I had no intention of coming back.
For years our relationship was, well, strained at best. I had issues of my own, my mom had issues, and we had issues together. It was a mess. One day I sat down and I realized I had to make a choice. I had to change this relationship with my mom or I had to cut her out of my life completely. By the time my nephew was born I'd made my choice. I sat my mother down and told her we had to start telling each other the truth or we would never make it work. I told her some things that were pretty hard to say, probably even harder to hear. She told me some things. There were a lot of crying and cursing before we became comfortable with this arrangement. I found that I wasn’t perfect (imagine!), and that my mom was willing to work things out.
That was almost 8 years ago. You would never know the troubles we had. I’ve gone from disliking my mother’s presence to enjoying it. We talk more now than we did for years. We are not afraid to say what we think because we trust each other not to use it later for hurting each other. Oh, we’re not perfect. There isn’t a mother/daughter relationship in this world that’s perfect, I think that’s written in our DNA. But I have come to understand something - My mother did the best she could.
I love her. She is one of the few women her age that’s still willing to learn. She is willing to admit when she is wrong. She had the strength and courage to go against everything she was taught and asked for help. She is extremely loyal and fiercely protective. But she will back off if I ask her. She will try anything once (unless it involves the possibility of death. You’ll never see my mother skydiving). If I ask her for anything she will do her best to give it to me. She loves to laugh and have fun, and that is HUGE! She loves me.
She isn’t my friend. Friendship only goes so far in this world. She is my mother and that is infinitely better.
posted by Barbarian02003 | Tuesday, March 20, 2007
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