Know any? As we embark on Mother’s Day Weekend I thought it would be appropriate to talk about our complicated and idiosyncratic relationships with our moms.
For one thing, when we are perusing the greeting card isle at the supermarket we might notice that the cards all seem a bit fluffy. It’s all butterflies, rainbows and “You’re the best!” sentiments. Yet, most of our moms are as dynamic as we are, meaning that there are many elements to them as individuals. We grow up witnessing the elements they allow us to see. But there are more parts of them that some moms never reveal. If the standard Mother’s Day card doesn’t quite capture your relationship with your mom, you are not alone.
Another thing is, everyone seems to have complaints about how things should have been growing up, and were not. Even the best mothers among us have kids that seem more focused on what their mom did “wrong” than on what she did “right.” We may hold this against our mom, or worse, allow it to muddy our current day relationship with her, as we miss the moments we are in by obsessing about the past.
Particularly as a young woman or man, part of our maturity is beginning to recognize our moms as humans with miracles and flaws, like all of us. If we move through adulthood without ever expanding our viewpoint to include seeing our mom as a grown-assed woman, who happened to carry and deliver us, but who also has other matters of importance to tend to, we miss the opportunity to bond as adult children, seeing them only as what they did, or didn’t do when we were little.
Because once we no longer ARE little, we should not be relating to our moms solely in the capacity in the role they played to meet our needs. That was the dynamic when we couldn’t care for ourselves. And now, as adults, we can, and we should.
Without a doubt, I have won the “Mom” lottery. Many people never receive the love and support from their mother that I have enjoyed. And I am grateful. But having said that, even my mom is human. And there are things I think we both would do differently during my childhood if we had a do-over.
But we don’t have a do-over. We only have today. So if, as we approach this weekend with a critical heart, instead of an open and even forgiving one, we continue to drive the narrative that our child-like mind clings to. It’s the one we have been repeating in our mind for years, as we recall events that were traumatic, possibly abusive, and even unconscionable.
I am never suggesting we should put ourselves in harm’s way by being around someone who hurts us physically, mentally or otherwise. But I am suggesting that as adults, we can be discerning about which origin story we cling to, rather than just continuing to be mad, hurt, sad, disappointed or resentful.
We can look at our moms with fresh eyes, and try to see them for who and what they are NOW. We can open to their full range of humanity, and if we are so inspired, even put ourselves in their shoes as young moms who tried to create the best life they knew how. All of us have memories that in some way linger around like a painful ache that we wished we never had. And guess what? So do all of our moms, have memories that THEY are carrying around, with their own painful scars and narratives that keep them from being present to us, in the NOW.
So as we raise our awareness to include whatever comes to mind when we think of our moms, let’s be generous with our assumptions that they did the best they could. That each of our moms lent out their bodies for us to grow in, and through. That they suffered in ways we are unaware of. That they always wanted the best for us even though they may have acted in ways that felt otherwise. That motherhood is likely the most complicated, and most important role they and we may ever play.
And unless we are perfect people, mothers and parents we need all take a pause before blaming our “issues” on our moms instead of taking responsibility for our own choices. We are no more perfect than they are, not because we don’t try, but because being human means hurting others even when we don’t mean to. With due respect, I again say that I am not condoning abuse.
But I also don’t condone holding grudges and unforgiveness that our childhood may have been terrible. Because when we were children, we were dependent and we didn’t have choices. But we are adults now. And part of being adults, is seeing the world through the eyes of another. Not only, but especially, through the eyes of our moms.
Whether or not the butterfly rainbow Mother’s Day card is the one that ends up in your basket, try to open up the landscape through which you have come to know your mom. What unique challenges was she up against while raising you? Could there have been reasons for things you didn’t understand, and still don’t? Can you let go of the painful ongoing blaming narrative for long enough to try to get to know your mom today? Maybe even open a conversation like “Hey, what was it like trying to raise me?”
We can’t all have the best moms in the world. But as we recognize and honor our moms this weekend, let’s keep in mind that we may have had the best mom in OUR world, doing the best she could, with what she had to work with. Seeing their humanity with curiosity and gratitude rather than amplifying their shortcomings with some big measuring stick, can be a way forward.
If you are without your mom, that can make the day especially hard. Just like being without my children who have died, makes the day especially hard for me. But if your mom is still living, try getting to know her before she dies, which will likely be, before you do. And if too much damage has been done, perhaps a silent forgiveness is the best gift we can give our moms and ourselves, on Mother’s Day.
A special prayer goes out to all who are going into this weekend without their moms or children for the first time. I can’t promise it gets easier. But I can promise that being open hearted can allow us to see our moms and ourselves in a more compassionate and loving light. Just as we hope our children will be seeing us, as they grow into adults and we become our mothers.