Mom and I: Keeping Our Relationship Healthy
THIS IS PART OF May’s “OUR PUBLIC MEMORY” PIES spiritual PRACTICE ON sharing our stories. IF YOU MISSED THIS NEWSLETTER, READ IT HERE.
No matter what your relationship to the word “mother” is, we want to hear from you. Share your stories about mothering and you’ll be entered into a random drawing to win some Lovegoodness soap. Plus, your story could be shared on our social media during the month of May. Feel free to remain anonymous if you choose. For some inspiration, some of our staff and leadership team shared their stories.
If I stop and pay attention long enough, I notice my mannerisms are all similar to my Mom’s. The way I cross my arms and legs or hold a cup. My laugh is like hers too: startling, but after a few guffaws, you adjust. You learn to enjoy it and mentally prepare for it like an unexpected balloon pop.
We make our relationship look effortless, but it took a lot of work to get there. We’ve learned each other’s triggers and what our boundaries are. Since I lived with her up until my early 30s, we’ve had to make adjustments.
Granted, I wasn’t a particularly difficult child. I got my first curfew when I was 21 and can count on one hand the number of times I was spanked and was never grounded. I prided myself on being this “perfect daughter,” which, of course, doesn’t exist but it didn’t stop me from trying when I was younger.
I am the youngest child, and she was the overprotective mother who sent me what felt like weekly care packages to Australia when I studied abroad in college for a few months. Years later, after my husband and I’s honeymoon, I had to endure her anger for days when I didn’t contact her while stuck on a cruise ship being chased by Hurricane Sandy.
“It took me a long time to realize I should stand up for myself when it came to my Mom. I always assumed you’re supposed to just let her fuss at you “for your own good” and never let a bad word slip out. ”
I didn’t know until I was in my late 20s and early 30s that I was entitled to put my foot down on occasion. This wasn’t Mom’s fault. I had never put a boundary on how we communicate, and when I finally started interrupting her during heated conversations or told her she needed to stop doing something, the experiences were jarring for both of us.
There was a point in our relationship when I was so frustrated, I told her only to call if someone’s bleeding. I admit that boundary was a bit harsh. Now that I’ve been away from her and Dad for 10 years, I have a gnawing urge to stay in touch more.
The older I get, the more like her I become. Sometimes when I hear myself saying, “Oh Lord Jesus,” I can hear her. I realize now what’s great about my Mom is that she’s a firm believer in the power of prayer but also reminded me that God created doctors, so therapy and medication was important too.
Mom beat breast cancer a while back, and I don’t know if I could handle it like she could. Plus, now that COVID restrictions have kept us apart, we treat text messages, phone conversations or Zoom meetings like much needed reconnections. If I were to take my last breath tomorrow, I can assure myself that we developed a relationship over the years that will ensure our memories together remain fond.