Despite our challenges, I’m fortunate that my mother knew how to love, along with her other attributes, and we’ve found our way to have a strong adult relationship. I’ve also lived a very different life from hers- I’ve been married to the same great guy for more than 30 years. We have two wonderful children, both with their own unique gifts and peccadillos. The youngest, my daughter, is an old soul; she’s been more mature than me since she was about 10. Now 21, going on 85, she has diverse and eclectic interests that couldn’t be more different from my own when I was her age. She’s her own woman and she always has been.
When people would ask me about my daughter, I’d say, “She’s a peach. We’ve never had a screaming match. She’s never said she hates me (at least to my face).” Most mothers of daughters would respond with a look that said, “Is she ok?”, as if that was abnormal. Turns out, it was.
One day, when my daughter was maybe 13 or 14, she was obviously frustrated with me. I can’t remember why she was angry, but I can remember the awful feeling I’d always experienced when she was annoyed with me. A feeling of dread and anxiety would rise up from the darkest places in my brain, provoked by painful old memories of the anger I once had for my own mother, and I’d suddenly feel terrified. “Does she hate me? Will she stop loving me?” On this day, however, my daughter had clearly had enough. She saw my dread and distress and said, “Mom, I have to be able to be angry with you sometimes. And, you have to trust that I will still love you, even if I get angry.”
The impact of her words was immediate. Aside from losing one of my children, my daughter hating me was my greatest fear. Even the thought of it felt like an unendurable wound. So I tried to protect myself from that possibility, any way I could. Those mothers who gave me the “it’s abnormal to never have overt conflict with your daughter” look were right- it’s normal to have conflict with the people you live with and love. This is especially so as children are maturing, testing their limits and seeking independence. I certainly had no problem arguing with my husband and son and never worried that they’d stop loving me.
I had to get my head out of my past and acknowledge her need to feel safe expressing normal emotions. It would be an understatement to say her words came as a relief. They were transformational. While she still hasn’t screamed at me because I annoyed her, as mothers tend to do, her obvious frustration has never again provoked the terror it once did. By her bravely staking claim to what are normal emotions, she made us both feel safer.
Mother’s Day, like all special days, can be bitter-sweet. As I reflect on my own journey as a mother, I feel even more grateful for my beloved grandmother, who was a safe-haven during my childhood, my mother-in-law, who is a force of nature and an inspiration, and my own sweet mom, whom I adore.