I wish there was a way I could simply outgrow the need for my mother's affection. I know it's not good for me, not with all the conditions that seem to accompany her love, but still, my mother's hands. I've certainly written about them. A friend of mine just posted about how she'd be "in her momma's arms" just as soon as she got through the airport.
It set me off.
And here I thought I was over all of that.
There's a lot to be said for creature comforts and sometimes the only thing I want is her peculiar mix of Oil of Olay and Chanel Number Five.
Which Joel wanted to buy for me because it's one of his favorite perfumes.
But no.
Too many memories there. And it might be what I WANT, but it's certainly not what's good for me. I'm still straddling that fence (which feels more like a power line) where this very basic part of me just needs her MOMMY for fuck's sake, but the rational me knows I'm just not ready yet.
I guess I still need to do all the mourning I've been putting off - that inevitable death march of adulthood - in which you realize your parents are never going to be who you wanted them to be, but it seems so far away when I'm trying so hard to figure out who *I* want to be.
Fuck, it's hard enough to be who MY CHILDREN need me to be.
How come nobody told me being a real grown-up would be so much WORK?
Or that it would take a whole new level of joy and love and understanding for me to even GET to the place where I can see how much work I have to do? Adulthood (which I can only define with the most horrible and over-used word ever: authenticity) is one step forward, two steps back.
I'm happier than I've EVER been, but I'm also sadder. And so much more broken than I ever thought I'd allow myself to be. And God forbid IN PUBLIC. (But here we are...)
On Friday, I found myself having a very serious sit-down with my inner child. I rarely speak to that ungrateful spoiled brat, but when I was running late and had to race to Beaverton to get my car (which is finally running again thank the baby jesus!), then drop my kids off in East Vancouver before making it to a 9:30 AM appointment at work on the other side of town, I realized that Mini-Me was GETTING OUT OF HAND. I mean, it really wasn't that big a deal that my kids were all of TEN WHOLE MINUTES late for school or that I had to call my (totally understanding) client and tell her that I was running late and that I'd still have plenty of time to wax everything she needed me to wax without screwing up either of our schedules for the rest of the day.
But inner-child me? She was having a stark, raving panic attack. She needed to lock herself in a padded cell.
Or take an adult-sized dose of Xanax.
So I tried to tell her it was all okay. That there was no reason for her to get so VERY VERY upset.
That she didn't have to be in charge of The Universe at all times.
That no matter how hard she tried to make sure everyone was okay and at the correct airport gates at the properly scheduled times, IT WASN'T HER JOB.
Of course since my inner child is only 11, she didn't listen to a damn thing I had say. So when I finally got to work, I just played Madonna for her while I folded all those extra clean pubic hair towels.
Like a Virgin was always her favorite.
It's such a terrible conundrum for me. My mother was wild and carefree and emotionally unpredictable, so I had to be the mom for myself. I was actually happy to be the mom. It made me feel safe and I was really good at it. But now I'm stuck in this place where I want to give that mini-me mom a break becuase she SO deserves it and at the same time - I'M A FUCKING MOM. I have my own real-life children to mother!
Even though I've been a mom since my earliest memory (which is a memory of me trying to take care of my mom after her first miscarriage.), I still need my MOMMY.
It's no wonder my baby sister won't speak to me - I've always tried to be the mom neither of us had.
IT WASN'T MY PLACE.
I'm not Audrey's mom. I'm not even MY OWN mom. I'm only Alex and Genoa's mom (and ocassionally Liza's step-mom.) But all this is to say that I want my mommy.
Only I want her to be someone who never existed.
Which isn't fair to either of us. What I really need is to get to a place where I can reconcile that and make it fair. I need to find the emotional sweet spot where being her daughter no longer hurts.
I'm just not there yet.
Sorry, Mom.
And more importanly: I'm sorry mini-me. I wish I could give you that paid 15-minute break you've been waiting for for 20 years.
We'll get there.
Oh, honey. Hugs. That's all.
Posted by: nelleellen | April 30, 2012 at 09:41 PM
I could have written this. Well, minus the ginormo stack of pube towels. I feel the same way about my mom.
Posted by: Pameladayton | April 30, 2012 at 10:43 PM
Wow -- I can't tell you how this parallels the experience that I am currently faced with. Good for you for baring all. I find it incredibly brave.
Posted by: Tara | April 30, 2012 at 10:44 PM
Yep. Get that. Doing the work helps. I keep telling myself that too.
Posted by: Heidi | April 30, 2012 at 11:12 PM
Hey! I've been there. So much thinking and talking and praying and hoping and crying finally led me to the place where I realized my mom and my dad were no longer my parents, they were "ann" and "eric", very real, very human individuals, who I could appreciate and enjoy but also not judge or criticize, because after all, they were just two people who were in my life who I loved. And more importantly, I realized I was no longer their child, or a child at all. I am an independent adult who has everything she needs, and when she finds herself lacking she is able to seek out the love and affection and attention (or whatever else it is that she desires) from reliable, trustworthy sources. I no longer mourn for the hurt child in me, because the adult woman is just too dang lucky to complain. I've built my own support network that is outside of my parents, and I can access what I need on my own now. As far as my relationship with my parents? I love them, so I spend reasonable amounts of time with them on holidays and such, but no more and no less, and the pain is gone. Hope this helps.
Posted by: rebecca | April 30, 2012 at 11:16 PM
I am so sorry. I have a similar tough relationship with my father. We don't speak very often. I'm sorry you are in pain.
Posted by: Vanessa | May 01, 2012 at 04:05 AM
Sooo get this. It has been all around me these days. Time to get my butt back to therapy for a Refresher.
Thanks for sharing with us.
Posted by: Faraway Reader | May 01, 2012 at 06:32 AM
I'm sorry to derail the tone of the comments here, but I have a question. Did I miss a post about you and your sister? You seemed so very close after you and Dave split up. I had no idea you weren't on speaking terms. I would die inside if my sister wasn't speaking to me. I'm sorry.
Posted by: Laura | May 01, 2012 at 06:42 AM
It's freaky how similar some of the things you are going through match what I am going through. Anger, med issues, Mom issues. . .
My counselor recommended this book last week. I thought I'd share.
Children of the Self Absorbed: A Grown Ups Guide To Getting Over Narcissistic Parents. by Nina Brown.
Good luck!
Posted by: Lisa | May 01, 2012 at 07:36 AM
I haven't written about it because she doesn't like being on my blog, but my sister and I broke up about a year ago. Every once in a while we try to talk, but neither of us can make it work just yet. I do miss her, though.
Posted by: Amanda P. Westmont | May 01, 2012 at 09:31 AM
That is very sad that you and your sister aren't able to work things out. I hope the future will find you close again. I don't have a sister (or a brother) but I just know that I would be so broken to have a break up with a sibling. :(
Posted by: Abby | May 01, 2012 at 06:39 PM
The sister thing is sad. I'm sorry. But what stood out for me was how you said you're occasionally Liza's stepmom. I thought she lived with you pretty regularly or at least half the time? I might be reading too much into the use of occasionally, though.
Posted by: Amy | May 01, 2012 at 06:55 PM
this life is so funny. i love that in all your relationships, you're learning about (and expressing for our benefit) the vast complexity of love. my favorite book in the world, my deal-breaker book, 'the spy in the house of love' by anais nin, i think mirrors a lot of what you're discovering (my understanding of it anyway). it's such a good lesson for your children and, trust me, as adults, they'll love you for it.
Posted by: Jami | May 02, 2012 at 03:50 PM
Oh man. I could've written this too. I wonder if there's anyone out there who has a good relationship with their parents. It's like a unicorn. It'd be a beautiful thing and you really hope it exists, but to date no one you know has ever seen one. At least not straight and sober.
Now what's creeping me out is what I'm unknowingly doing to my own kids, even though I'm desperately trying not to repeat my parent's mistakes.
Posted by: Lisa | May 03, 2012 at 04:52 AM
Like, Vanessa, it was like this with my dad. Different reasons but essentially it comes down to them not being the parent that you wish they were. In my case, he just wasn't capable of that and eventually over time I came to terms with it. It's a long road though. If you keep working on yourself you'll get there.
Posted by: Bridget | May 04, 2012 at 04:06 PM
Once I realized that my parents had difficult childhoods (that they didn't even really acknowledge) I was able to see that they had raised me to the best of their capabilities. Talking about how THEIR parents raised them as best as they knew how, made for some interesting conversations (and ultimately improved things between us). Hugs!
Posted by: Western Mama | May 12, 2012 at 06:12 PM