Exercise 86

My Relationship With Mom


Describe your relationship with your mom as you remember it as a child.


My relationship with my mother was alright as a child. I do not recall my mother trying to persue a relationship with me when I was young. I was usually the one seeking her out. We did not do very many things together, but she was certainly present. Example, we had parks and playgrounds nearby and I would beg for her to stop so we could play, but the number of times we went in my lifetime I can count on one hand. I was not allowed to have friends over to our house, again I can count on both hands the number of times I had a friend over or was allowed to be a guest somewhere. I was not allowed on field trips, and I was not allowed to join Brownies/Girl Scouts. I think she may have been afraid of the time investment. The reason I put these things on my mom, is because I was asking to do these things. My dad would say, "I don't know...ask your mother." And my mom would always say, "No." I also recall telling my mom that I thought she should try to win the Miss America Pageant when I was about four or five years old. Her reply to me was, "Are you crazy? Those are for beautiful women. Not women like me." I told her she was the most beautiful woman in the world, and she told me I was wrong and needed my eyes checked. She talked to me a lot though. I would go sit in her room on her bed while she would knit or cut coupons and I would ask her a million questions, anything and everything. I do remember she built me a dollhouse when I was about eight or nine years old. That was awesome!


Describe your relationship with your mother as you remember it as a teenager.


Well, for the most part, I was not a difficult teen. I figured my mom had it pretty easy with me. My grades were always exemplary, my friends were all clean cut, I was also extremely awkward, so no boys were hovering around trying to date me. But my mom complained bitterly about me being moody. Perhaps there is truth in there. I probably was. Or at least more moody than my older sister. I was the middle child so I probably was thinking I had a hard life at the time. Didn't we all as teens? I hated myself as a teenager. I felt ugly every day of my life. Copious amounts of freckles were definitely not helping the situation either. At around the age of eleven I began my battle with anorexia nervosa. I remember exactly how it began too. I had forgotten to take my lunch to school one day. I got off of the school bus, ravenous, and went in to tell my mother that I forgot my lunch and that I was starving. She said, "Well, it won't kill you to miss a meal." I remember going to my room and wondering what was meant by that comment. Was I fat? My sister was definitely overweight, but was I, and I just wasn't seeing it? Thus started a seven year battle surrounding food. I was paraded around at church because the priests took a shine to me. This is where I felt I made my mother proud. I looked good, so I made her look good. My mom would never come to any of my recitals for chorus or orchestra. I remember scanning the audience and seeing my father's face, but never my mom's. She never praised me for my excellent report cards. She would always just say, "Yeah, so? Isn't that your job as a student to do your homework and get good grades? Do you think this somehow makes you special?" I finally understand why getting good grades was so important to me. My teachers said such wonderful things about me, and I longed to hear them over and over, so I would read and reread my report cards any chance I got. Around the age of fifteen, I started working at the same place my sister worked...a movie theater. This is where I met my husband. He also was working there. Now the real fun started. I clearly remember the first time my mother met Pete, her exact words to him were, "She's never been on a date before. We never had this problem with her sister." She also jumped right in and told him of my plans to become a nun and how they hoped I would continue to work toward my dream. When we got in the car, Pete said to me, "I didn't ever think that dating someone was a 'problem.' I thought it was a normal thing." After that, I think she realized she was losing control of me. And she hated every second of it. I found I could stay thin by abusing laxatives and vomiting when I was around sixteen or so. My parents didn't really notice my weight dropping. The guidance counselor called and told them what was going on. Then I started therapy. It was largely unhelpful, but I went to appease the parents. The attitude I picked up from my mother was, "Are we done yet?" I don't think she liked being inconvenienced, taking me. Shortly thereafter I stopped going because that therapist was leaving the practice and I just never made an appointment with one of the partners. My mom thought I was having sex with Pete long before I really was. I took that to mean she didn't think very much of me. I got pregnant when I was eighteen, and that basically ended my teenage years. My mom's suffering was over.


Describe your relationship with your mom as an adult.


Well, this encompasses about twenty years, so I guess I'll just start in my twenties. When I was twenty, I was pregnant again with another baby boy. The baby had a birth defect that was not compatible with life, so we ended the pregnancy early. This was not some spontaneous, "I don't want a baby right now," decision. This was a gut wrenching tragedy in our lives, that we remember every April 12th. My mom was not happy that I chose to end the pregnancy. I felt I had no choice. The baby would surely die. One cannot live without a brain. The "abortion" drove a wedge between us for a while. She is a devout Catholic and felt I should have carried to term. Another huge problem that has come between us is her feelings about my husband. She tells me often how "cute" she thinks he is, she sides with him in arguments, she laughs at his worst jokes, and she enjoys telling me how Pete could come live with her and I should live with my dad, we are, after all, so much alike, me and my dad. I know this sounds awful, but I believe she would try to be a wife to him if I ever passed away. It both sickens and saddens me, and I've already told my husband that if he even considers something like that I will come back and haunt his house. One of the other problems that stands out is that my mom now, knowing about the anorexia/bulimia, still subtly chides me about my weight. She will go out and buy stuff for me (which is nice) but will buy it in a size 22, and I'm not a 22, I'm a size 14 (for now). I think the final thing putting a lot of distance between us is her feeling about the medical profession. When I was going for training as a nurse's aide, she said to me, "So I guess when you are finished you will be a glorified maid." Today, I am a nurse. She lets me know regularly how stupid and fat she thinks nurses are. When my aunt died she took pleasure in telling me about how lazy the nurses that took care of my aunt were. She said, "You couldn't find one when she was having pain, but when I brought up the tray of cookies to thank them, they were coming out of the woodwork." And that is just the tip of the iceberg. She only started having bad things to say about medical professionals when I became a nurse. Before that, she would reminisce about her days as a candy striper. I do speak with my mother every other day. Despite the fact that all of this has happened and continues to happen, I still love my mother, but I also pity her. How awful her life must have been. This exercise has saddened me more than I imagined it would. I have had to stop several times to control my crying. It is not easy to feel like the person who is supposed to love you more than anyone else does, secretly, or maybe not so secretly, hates your guts.


I feel happy about my relationship with my mom because...


Despite everything, my mom is dependable. She does want what is best for my children. She loved to shop and would take me with her. And she loved to be frugal. We now sometimes talk about who got the better deal when we buy things, like groceries. She was "closer" to me than my siblings (on a strange note, this fits in the happy and not so happy category). She can be fun at times, like when she went on vacation with me and the kids while Pete was at H2H. I know my mother thinks about me often. She hasn't forgotten a birthday of mine or the kids in 38 years. She tries to support my cooking efforts because she is a really good cook. When I was a kid, she would sometimes let me sit and listen to conversations with company if I was really quiet and would sit in the other room. So I got to hear what big people talked about. That was fun.


I feel sad about my relationship with my mom because...


People think that my mother and I are very close. The truth is, I am really afraid to be myself around my mother, so she only *thinks* she knows me. I don't want to lose myself in the relationship, not knowing where I end and she begins. So frequently I hold back, trying not to be consumed by her, eaten up and then spit out. I am afraid that my children may some day say the same of me. This grieves me terribly.


I feel mad about my relationship with my mom because...


It's been used for appearances. She would brag about how great our relationship was to my aunt, to church members and church leaders, friends. I was "mini-me" from Austin Powers for many years.

My wishes for our relationship are...

Honesty, complete transformation of what the relationship is now, which is just me being a total and complete pacifist, and saying what my mom wants to hear, supporting her grievances against everyone and everything. Life is not always the way we want it. People are human, they behave irrationally at times. I can acknowledge her feelings (sounds like you feel...) but I don't want to support her in her personal attacks on people and issues anymore.


My letter to mom


Dear Mom,

I know from the stories of your own mother, and her own mother, that both you and Grandma had some serious mother issues. I know that you both suffered abuse, physical, verbal, and emotional. I am so sorry for your pain. I am sorry that your mother was so cruel to you, and that her mother was cruel to her. I know that in each generation it is getting less and less. It still doesn't diminish my pain that exists as a result of our relationship.

Some of the things you said to me when I was a child were horrible. I can't believe you could say such things to someone you were supposed to love. I recall you telling me I looked like a little slut when I parted my hair to the side the day I wanted to wear my hair like that to school. I just wanted to look pretty. I had all kinds of issues surrounding my looks, not the least of which was the sheer volume of freckles I had. I remember wanting a skin transplant. I wasn't trying to be a slut. I was just trying to make myself feel somewhat better about how I looked. The spandex pants were probably not a good idea on my part, though. I'm with you on that one. But why did you have to say, "What, you want every boy in town over here trying to screw you?" Yes, mom, I wanted the attention of a boy. I wanted a great romance. I was thirteen! Most thirteen year old girls want that. Some great love in their lives, but in an innocent way. It didn't mean I wanted to have sex with them! Don't you remember being thirteen?

Another thing I just don't understand, was why I was not allowed to go over to friend's houses and why they could not come to our house either. Kids are kids mom. They don't care if the toilet is clean or if the sink has dirty dishes in it. They would not be there to inspect your house. I just wanted someone to play with. Instead, the only person I shared secrets with was you, and at times you used them against me. I only remember going to two birthday parties as a child for classmates. And I never had a birthday party for myself with friends as a kid. On my sixteenth birthday, Peggy gave me a party at her house. That was it. It made me really sad, because I never felt celebrated.

I also don't understand why you weren't pleased with my good grades. I would read my report cards, ad nauseum, to look at all of the comments from my teachers. I know that you know this because I remember you scolding me once for reading it so much. I was just starved for praise mom. Hearing it from dad wasn't enough. I wanted you to love me too and I wanted you to think well of me. But I always got the impression you thought I was a conceited, boy-crazy little witch. And I was none of the above! I was an angry, emotionally hungry little girl with low self esteem.

And why, after me telling you the things that were going on with Bruce, would you allow me to spend the night over there? I remember you telling me to stop that talk when I let you know what was happening. I still don't have a clear picture of what exactly went on because I have been denying everything as a result of being dismissed by you.

I feel like you didn't want me to go to college, either. This is not a record of your wrongs or accusations, but as I see it you showed no interest in any scholarships I was eligible for, never asked me what colleges I was interested in, never asked if I wanted to visit any of them, and didn't fill out financial aid forms. I got the impression that I should just repeat your life, and everything between us would be fine. Essentially, that is what happened. I think you were the only person "happy" that I was pregnant. Dad told me he was worried I was flushing my future down the toilet, that I would always have it hard. Pete's dad wanted me to get an abortion. His mom was not thrilled either, but came around pretty quickly. Maybe I am wrong and you were being supportive, despite being concerned, but it seemed like you were inappropriately happy. There would go the idea of me ever "surpassing" you intellectually and financially. I hope I am wrong. But it doesn't feel like it. Especially when you berate and insult the medical and nursing profession at every turn and the fact that you are not rejoicing in the great news that David will be gradutaing college in December.

BTW, stay away from Pete. For my own selfish reason of wanting my husband for myself, but also because it will only cause you pain and me tremendous embarrassment when you find out what I have been living with for the past twenty years. And please stop trying to push dad off on me. It's freaky and it sounds incestuous and I don't think of dad in that way, thanks.

If you want my forgiveness, it's here. I'm sure it will be a while though. You never could stand to be wrong.

Loving you in spite of this crap,
D