My mother is a nutjob. Yeah yeah yeah, everyone's mom is a little crazy. And mine does not take the cake but she most certainly takes the cookie. I have contemplated cutting her out simply because I don't want to mother my mother. I want my mother to mother me. I can't call her for anything because she takes a quick how do you boil an egg phone call into whatever current boyfriend is or isn't doing to make him her knight in shining armor. It is exhausting. What the hell did I do in the last round of life to get such a wackadoo for a mom? I dunno but I'm trying to do better for next time. Because this blows. I can't do it again in the next life. And the kicker is the only person who understands my frustration is Mike. My siblings just think I'm a jerk. They think Mom and I just know how to push each other's buttons but the reality of the situation is my mother shares things with me that as my mother, she shouldn't- and I won't share them on this blog, and she doesn't share it with either one of them. Their ignorance is their bliss and my eternal frustration.
Since Mike and I did so much, all, of the wedding ourselves short of cooking the food we needed help from friends and family. Some people were a pleasure to work with. My mother made me want to pull my hair out and cry. And it was because she just didn't listen to me. She would hear me but not pay attention to the feelings I was sharing with her. And she never really has. Mike thought this post crosses my line of things I could never say to someone but write about. I don't. I've told her about this blog. I've showed it to her. She could even find it on my Facebook page because somehow Facebook friended us without me knowing. But the reality of the situation is if this has nothing to do with her current boyfriend, how much I love her and need to be her friend or a video of me singing from high school she's not interested. I have no outlet other than this blog and no way of bettering my relationship with her.
I rant and rave and laugh and scream about how unavailable and emotionally immature and irrational my mother is. But my pseudo life coach and holistic nutritionist gave me a pack of affirmation cards and one card I happened to select after a coaching session said, "I forgive my parents for their childhoods and they are in my life to teach me exactly what I need to learn." It really freaked me out. My mom is the way she is because that is exactly how she was raised. And though I want to blame her for it, I ultimately can't. In the mean time, thanks to Mom, I've learned how to have an open and honest communication with everyone in my life. I've learned how to have a functioning romantic relationship. I've learned how to really listen to people. And I wouldn't have learned any of it if I wasn't forced to work my way through this relationship. She taught be by example. In the totally opposite way.
2 comments:
Trust me, you are not alone in that respect. The relationship you have with your mom sounds very similar to the relationship I have with my dad. It's tiresome and frustrating and many times sad. I try everyday of my life to learn how to not be like him. It's just like you said about learning from example, just the opposite way. But, I can't blame him for his childhood or his experiences in life either. The effort comes in conversing and leading them to things that make them happy, which is a challenge. I tend to just avoid it and not talk to him. But, eventually you do miss them. So, in the long run, the the effort is worthwhile; it's just easier when you're in a more positive frame of mind than they are. If you ever need to blow off some steam, let me know. I can truly relate.
This post really struck a cord. I have an almost identical relationship with my mother (down to the TMI dating information). It's so hard when you have to be the parent to a parent. Personally, I feel it's the reason that many people who come from whackadoodle backgrounds like that are the ones who decide against children (I'm still on the fence myself).
At the end of the day, we're still that little pigtailed 6 year old who wants our parents unconditional love and approval. (My mom doesn't read my blog either, even though I email her almost weekly with links.)
Cheers to lessons learned and making us better mothers.
xo
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