By Cathy Meyer
My childhood was spent with a mother who was a full tank of fun. I remember many, many splendid afternoons on the beach, children running with sand in their cracks, while she and her friends laughed and talked in whispered tones. My sister and I often took impromptu shopping sprees with a mother who was perfectly coiffed, always in cashmere and pearls, with no limits when it came to “dolling up” her girls.
We were, after all, a reflection of her. And “what would people think” if we didn’t reflect well?
I love my mother deeply – almost as much as she loves herself. And I have no doubt that she loves me, conditionally.
You see, it is my mother’s nature to nurture her own needs above the needs of all others, her children included. As a young girl I would watch her and long to be just like her. I can close my eyes and see her clearly as she was – raven hair, pale skin that glowed with a hint of pink, her head thrown back in laughter. She was striking in her beauty and her command of everyone’s attention.
As an adult, like Sidda from “Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood,” I spent a lot of time “trying to add up the thousands of dollars I spent on trying to figure out what the hell I’d done wrong.” Because nothing is more destructive to a young girl’s self-esteem than always coming up short in the eyes of a beautiful mother, especially one who believes she is the center of the universe.
Little has changed.
My mother and I had a brief encounter the other day – she wanted to go to a department store because there was a Dooney & Bourke purse she planned to purchase as a Christmas gift for my sister. So we went. I catch myself with her in situations – she does things that irritate me – and every negative feeling I’ve ever had about her surfaces. And, in most cases, negative feelings about myself, too. It’s her way of putting me in my place.
On Christmas morning, I watched my sister unwrap her $300 Dooney & Bourke, while I unwrapped my $90 Nine West – a not so subtle message from my mother that I’m of less value. It’s a message I no longer buy into.
The little girl in me sneaks out of that corner where I keep her tucked away and she wants to say, “I’m as good, I’m as worthy, I’m of value, too.” I soothe the little girl, tuck her away again, and smile at how well I’ve learned to mother and nurture myself. Something I would never have learned to do if not for the mother who failed to do that for me.
I am of two minds when it comes to my relationship with my mother. I am clear on growing up not being loved well enough and not being nurtured. But she’s elderly now, our roles have reversed, and I want to be sure that I love her well enough and that I’m able to give her what she wasn’t able to give me.
I’m not sure if I do it for her or for myself.
Does she appreciate my efforts?
I think she does, but she’s very aware of my feelings about her and we have a tendency to keep each other at arm’s length. Though I live two miles away from her, I see her every 10 days because I have no faith or trust in her to do what’s right for me – so I keep her emotionally separate from my life. To bring her too close feels dangerous.
I don’t owe my mother anything. She has been intrusive and overbearing in her relationship with my children, and she does it in the name of love for them when in reality it is all about her. She played roles during and after my divorce that devastated me emotionally and exacerbated the conflict between my ex and me.
My mother has never missed an opportunity to show me that I’m discounted goods in her eyes. It’s who she is. It’s how she relates to me.
Today, being with my mother, I can say I feel both love and resentment. I want her to be happy and healthy, but my relationship with her is one that isn’t based on any kind of expectations. If I ever needed anything, it wouldn’t occur to me to call her because she wouldn’t have anything to give. And if she did – she would have strings attached.
No unconditional love. Not anything like it. What do you think that does to a child?
When my ex-husband and I were first dating and I would call him on the phone, I used to say “It’s just Cathy.” He asked me once, “Why do you introduce yourself as “just” so-and-so?” I realized that it was the result of my mother’s attitude toward me… “just Cathy.”
It was diminishing.
My husband said: “Don’t ever refer to yourself as “just Cathy” again.” It’s a lesson I paid attention to. I had never known anyone to love me and nurture me the way he did.
After decades of working hard to change my standing in her eyes, I no longer covet what my mother doesn’t have to give me. I no longer define myself by her reaction to me or actions toward me. When it comes to her, I know where I stand and it’s a secure feeling to have reached this point.
It may not have been her intent, but I learned from my mother how to stand up for myself, to take care of my own needs and be reasonable in my expectations of others. Her most valuable lesson to me was how to mother my own children – how to love without conditions, to encourage, to influence, to feed their self-esteem and let them know they are the most valuable people in my life.
As hurtful and irritating and aggravating as she can be, I have moments when I look across a room and see her, and feel such tenderness. Once 5’8” tall, she is now a frail 5’4” and I want to wrap her up, envelop her, and protect her. I want to keep her happy and safe. I still see the woman I once so longed to be, though the raven hair has been replaced by thinning gray strands, the pink pearly cheeks now have age spots, and there are no more sunny afternoons on the beach. She is still very easy to adore.
She is who she is. If not for who she is, I would not be who I am. As it turns out, in the end my mother did play a role in teaching me to love and value myself, even if we took a rather circuitous route getting here.
© Cathy Meyer
Cathy Meyer is a Master Certified Relationship Coach, certified Marriage Educator, and the Founding Editor of DivorcedMoms.com. She is also the About.com Expert to Divorce Support where she covers all aspects of the divorce process, and she blogs for the Divorce vertical of The Huffington Post. Before turning to writing and editing as a career, Cathy specialized in consulting with and educating/coaching clients before, during and after divorce, and facilitating seminars and workshops for couples who are serious about building a healthy relationship. You can learn more at CathyWMeyer.com.
Part 10 in a series on mother-daughter relationships.
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There is so much here that is recognizable to me, personally. I am in awe that you feel such tender sentiments all the same, and your cautious semi- distance seems judicious, certainly to me.
Such brave and honest words. Thank you for this.
I love this, Cathy. So often it is pain and our experiences overcoming and dealing with them that bring out our strengths and beauty. Thank you for sharing your story.
Cecilia, thank you for reading and commenting. I enjoyed your essay also. I suppose there is such a thing as too much love and nurturing. If only we mothers could all hit that safe middle ground when it came to mothering our children. They could grow to one day write loving and brilliant essays about us. 🙂
Wow, it sounds like the narcissistic tendencies in your mother caused her to see you as competition. As you grew older she grew more critical because she feared you would surpass her. The fact that you can love her unconditionally in spite of this, speaks to the beautiful person you are.
Good insight Lisa, I was daddy’s girl, the first born and had a close bond with him as a child. As always, I appreciate your thoughts and kind words.
D. A. Thanks for the invitation to write. Little did I know it would be an opportunity to put into words feelings I’ve kept at bay for decades. You and I do have a lot in common when it comes to the mother/daughter relationship. And we both learned that love from a safe emotional distance can be the best way to handle such relationships.
Our mothers raised women who are smart cookies!
It’s illuminating when we closely examine how much our parents’ personality and behaviors affected our later choices in life and the lengths we go to so that we can be seen as worthy and deserving of their love.
I too grew up with a narcissistic parent – in my case it is my father. He demands the spotlight be on him and will do anything to keep it that way – even now at age 85. My mom catered to him and now that she has passed he demands that his 3 children do the same.
It’s exhausted all of us kids and we still find ourselves in our fifties now – still trying to ‘measure up’ to his extremely high and rigid expectations so that we can be deemed worthy of his praise.
I remember the severe anxiety attack I had in my early twenties when I was going to ask dad’s permission to be allowed to change my college major from Chemistry to Journalism. I knew he would be angry, judgmental and disappointed so I arranged to meet with him and my mom at a public park in my college town to tell them and then braced myself for the inevitable aftermath.
Sorry to hear you deal with the same issue Nancy. My father catered to my mother. I didn’t realize how much until after his death. In many ways, because of him she is like a spoiled child. I stopped trying to measure up 7 years ago when she caused a rift between one of my children and me. I’m no longer “on call” or there for her at her whim. Like you and your siblings, it was exhausting and I was getting no return on my investment in her and meeting her needs. Sometimes you have to exit stage left and let the drama carry on without you.
Or so my therapist told me when I was 24 and having panic attacks. Parental bonds can be difficult to loosen.
I wish you the best with your father.
It’s interesting how we each see something a bit different. For me, it’s your pain that echoes throughout this whole piece. Maybe that’s because I can relate–I feel my own pain at those in my family who have disappointed me and tried to make me feel less than. It’s hard to get past that, and for me, it’s been about living well–being myself–not letting anyone’s judgment of me affect me. In the “no accidents” category, it’s a well-timed post for me–today I’ve been thinking hard about whether or not to reach out to family members who have hurt me deeply. Even though I know it’s out of their own insecurity, I feel that I have no family at all. When I break it down, I realize that re-establshing contact that they broke won’t give me family at all–we have no real common ground–and yet the pull to be part of a famiily, our nuclear family is so strong! A long way of saying that I appreciate your post today.
Your response to Cathy’s piece is very interesting to me, Carol. You speak of pain, and this time of year when we wish to be close to family or even feel as though we have family. Personally, I find that there are degrees and differences in situations that result in our being able to set issues aside – even temporarily (during the holidays) – and others in which we can’t.
For example, if 10 years has passed since someone “betrays” you out of ignorance or even narcissistic disregard, that’s different from malicious intent. Sometimes, people make mistakes (albeit repeatedly) out of poor judgment. Other times, family members are simply toxic, though there is nothing simple about toxicity, nor the path to realizing that they are toxic and we need to keep ourselves at a distance.
I find that in our society that preaches “forgive and forget” there seems to be little account taken of the degrees and variations in these sorts of scenarios, not to mention the fact that each of us – as individuals and in our particular personal situations (age, partnership status, stress level, health, etc.) may be more or less able to deal with challenging family members.
Am I concluding anything from all this? Only that no one knows what we each go through, how we – or others – may be able to reach a point of “some” contact while still protecting ourselves, and even a point of giving (emotionally or logistically) to someone who has hurt us – in part because we feel better about who we are in the process.
I read what Cathy has written and see that she has reached that point, or so I observe. There is much to be said for family, especially if we can find a mechanism for maintaining the emotional distance we need to stay “safe” while being of some help as they grow older. When they are gone – really gone – it’s too late.
Carol, when my oldest son was 15 he became frustrated with me for having “expectations” of his father and my mother. He said to me, “it is not their behavior that hurts you, it is your expectations of them that causes your pain.” I was driving him to an orthodontist appointment. My kid in braces was far, far more emotionally intelligent than his mom. Amazing!
It took me a few more years to put into practice what he and I talked about that day. The best approach to difficult relationships is to keep your expectations low. If you do re-establish contact do as my son urged me to do, with no expectations. I’ve found myself pleasantly surprised at how well I get along with people when I don’t expect much in return.
Thank you for commenting and sharing, I appreciate that!
Cathy, this is such an honest piece and so enlightening to see the distance for self-protection you’ve put between you and your mother – consciously, because of the unconscious (sounds like) way she’s disregarded and discounted you. The purse buying trip left me jaw-dropped. I have four kids and try so hard to be fair with them, to love them each for who they are, but I know there are times I’ve made them feel slighted. God bless you girl for thriving in spite of such a mother – and for caring for her as she ages. My mother’s father was an abusive alcoholic and still, she said, she was glad in the end that she was there for him when he was dying. I’m sure you’ll feel the same peace for the efforts and care you’re showing her now. We can only try to rise above and do better.
Thanks for commenting Barbara, “consciously because of the unconscious” is a great way to explain the behavior. My mother would be appalled at the idea that she slighted me in anyway. I guess you call that a complete and total inability to self-examine. These days I find her actions more humorous than hurtful.
Like your mother, for me it is about focusing on my own peace of mind and doing what feels morally right for me at this stage of the game. “Rise above and do better,” words to live by!
Wow. Thank you Cathy, Cecelia, DA and Nancy. I am not sure if coming from a male perspective is different. In a twisted way my mother’s narcissism made me successful, as well as a better and a worse person. I was supposed to become a doctor and go into federal politics – per the plan and desire of my mother. I was pushed, wished to please, never felt good enough and performed at a high level in school, work, sports, life, etc. That said I felt and was led to believe it was not good enough, so as a child I lied to “enhance” achievements but this was not enough. Hence the escape – off to college, professional degree and out of the country and off the continent. I performed without supervision, input, influence and support to succeed on my own. Until I met my ex-wife and while she was her own individual, there were many familiar traits. So while I ran away……… I ran right back in a way. It is truly astounding that a caring and intelligent person would do this, but after reading the literature, hardly original.
While I am now fully aware of the circumstances and I limit time with my mother for self preservation, deep down I know this is still part of what drives me, influences me in romantic relationships and still want, but realize, a warm and nurturing love from my mother are just not possible.
Curtis, last week I googled the definition of warm. I’ve raised two boys and was thinking about what I would hope they would say about me should they be questioned. Nurturing and warm, that is what I hope I have been for them. When we can’t give our children that, we set them up to struggle. Whether it be emotionally, academically or romantically. No mother wants that. Even those who didn’t manage to be nurturing and warm.
Your perspective is especially important to me because I’ve mothered boys. I appreciate you sharing and I wish you much luck in life and love. Be warm and nurturing with yourself!