Conversation About My Mother

I see that I got a few comments on that last post.
I think that many of us have uh, difficulties, with our mothers. Over at Michelle's, Michele Rene had asked, "Is this a safe place to talk about our mothers?
And I have always wondered- is there such a place? Is there?

Michelle and Adrienne's mother just died and in her dying, it would seem there had been a resolution of sorts, a realization, an opening to hearts which had, up until the final illness, been as iron-bound shut as mine is when it comes to my mother.

I write that and I tremble- how can I shut my heart against my mother? When she is my mother. What do I not honor if it is not motherhood? My god. I am going to hell. And why? Why do I do this? Even though in that ten-minute conversation I was taken by the scruff of the neck, metaphorically, at least, and shaken like a bulldog shakes a kitten, and as in the cartoon mentioned by Elizabeth, turned back into a bad little girl (even as we were discussing my grandmotherhood), I am the one who feels lost and guilty and angry when I get off the phone with her. This is not honoring motherhood.

I know that if I called her more often, if the situation was more "normalized" by calls and visits, a silly little ten minute conversation wouldn't have done that to me. Right? When I heard her voice on the phone when she realized it was me, I was overcome because for that second, she sounded truly glad I had called and I thought to myself, "Oh, this won't be bad. This is my mother. We love each other."

And then. And then...

Where is that safe place we can talk about our mothers? Because obviously, from the number of comments I got so quickly, talking about our mothers is something we need to do and yearn to do.

Ellen, over at A Walk Into Oblivion, writes about her mother's descent into dementia. She is talking about it. And her words clang into my soul because her relationship with her mother was troubled and now she is having to deal with her on this new level, an even more uncomfortable one, with all of the baggage, all of the unresolved issues, all of the guilt brought on by all of the years behind them. I love Ellen for writing about these things truthfully. She isn't skirting or skating around any issues. She is telling the truth. She is talking about how hard it is for her to take care of a mother who was never easy with her. I think that if it I were in her place, I would be feeling many of the things she feels. It would be a rip of pain in my heart of scar tissue already in place.

When did I start feeling this way about my mother and why? I know but none of it is easily discussed and frankly, I don't feel as safe talking about it here as I used to. I wrote more about it earlier (see my posts on childhood sexual abuse) but now I know that a family member of mine reads my blog and he has a close relationship with my mother and he has been chastising me for as long as I can remember about how I have "missed the boat" with her. "Why can't you love her?" he has actually screamed at me.
And all I could do was look at him and think, "Don't you think I wish I could?"

Don't we ALL want to love and be loved by our mothers?
But you know what? This is my blog, which is my home and if this place isn't safe, where is?

And I know my mother has gone through horrible things in her life which have made her the way she is. Nightmare things. Things no one should have to go through. And now I feel certain that the way I treat her has become another one of those things and how does that make me feel?

Horrible.

And as a mother, I know how easy it is to let circumstances, one's own life's experiences, mental illness and just general LIFE cause one to act in a way as a mother that one does not look back on with pride. If there was any things I have done or not done in my life I could take back, do over, they would all involve my children.

But. But.
I do not think that any of my children will ever be afraid to call me. They know I love them from the marrow of my bones to the utmost reaches of space. I tremble with all of the love I have in my heart for those four people. And my children know that. And here is a grandchild and I get to start all over again, loving him in that way which I had thought I could only love one of my children, but now find that I can love him that way too. It's like a new gift, a new blessing, one that I had no idea lay in wait for me!

I cannot love anyone, even my children or my grandchildren, perfectly. But my love for them IS perfect and I look at each of them and think that all of them are perfect in their own selves. They are who they are, whom they have been since birth, and I am the lucky one who gets to know them as they are and love them as they are without restraint. There is no part of myself I have to hold back in my loving of them. And I don't think they feel the need to hold back any part of themselves in their love for me. I hope not.
This just seems as simple and as self-evident as breathing to me and has since they were born.

Which is why I do not understand why I feel the way I do about my mother or why she so obviously feels the way she feels about me.

Well, I am looking at it this way- on this earth, in this short lifetime, there are people in my life, some born to me, some not, with whom I have relationships that are good. And that those relationships are, as Lis said last week, with people I can trust my heart. THOSE are the relationships I need to feed and to nurture, to worry about doing the best I can in.
And there are people with whom I cannot trust my heart and those relationships are not ones that I can necessarily mend or fix no matter how much I might wish I could.

I do know how to love and be loved. Despite a lot of issues with trust and with fear, I think I have a capacity for loving which is huge and because of those issues, I know when my heart has found safe harbor and I appreciate and respect that all the more.

Thank all of you who commented. I don't know that I am going to answer each comment. I think I am answering them here. But I tell you this- I give my heart here in these words and I trust the people who read them with it. And I know they trust me with their hearts which they give through their writing.

You.
And this is another gift I never dreamed of.

Thank-you all. And if you want to talk about your mothers here, do. If you have great relationships with your mothers, that gives me hope that history won't necessarily repeat itself. And with your grandparents, too. I know that people can love each other truly and deeply for a lifetime. We need to remember that. We need to be reminded of that. And if you, like me, have problems with that most primal of relationships- that of a daughter and her mother- you can talk about them here. I will understand. I will listen and I will acknowledge.
I promise.

Yours truly....Ms. Moon.