Cover Up

A recent incident with my mother brought me an awareness that I have needed to soak in for many years.

The occasion was a happy one; one in which I took my 79-year old mother to a late lunch and then to an early evening movie on a Tuesday, as I had been trying to do regularly to spend time with her.  Granted, previous get-togethers involved some heated debate and conversation, but usually only involved surface conversation and questions about what was on sale at the grocery store, her daily routine of driving to different stores to save money and use her coupons, and how she was going to continue affording an apartment that was way out of her budget considering her limited resources.

On this particular evening, we saw a movie that triggered some emotions in me about a man whom I loved and watched deteriorate and eventually pass away from cancer.  This man was truly the one I would have spent the remainder of my life loving and whom my 10-year old son adored.  In the movie, the main character was dying of cancer and her younger lover was removed from decision-making processes because he was not actually “family,” and therefore unable to have a voice in her final treatment.

The man I loved deteriorated in front of my eyes and on one night in particular, I sat in the hotel room with him as he lay there, incoherent and doped up with enough morphine to calm a raging elephant.  I watched the storm and lightening outside the window, propped his head and prayed.  I subsequently visited when I could but as it turned out, I, too, was unable to be there at the end because I was not immediate family.  As I was sharing this tender story of tragedy with my mother in the car ride home from the movie, she completely and without thought, interrupted me to remind me which way to go home.  As if she had not been actively listening, as is the case most times and for which I’ve reminded her over and over again, I turned and again made her aware that she had interrupted me, this time during a very personal story.  She immediately shot back that I should also remind her of anything else she did wrong.  Passive-aggressive behavior is my mother’s strong point and I became silent for a few minutes.  She then began to tell me how she did understand and had sat in the hospital room with my sister-in-law’s mother who was dying of MS the previous year.  As if in competition, she had to try to outdo my story by comparing her visits to this woman who did die of MS.  I replied that she was kind to have done that, and that I was sure the woman appreciated it however I was trying to convey how tragic it was that I was so in love with this man and I lost him.  In reality, I was just looking to share with my mom, to get some sort of acknowledgement and recognition that she heard my pain.  What transpired is that she instead needed the same.  This is the mother-daughter dynamic that I have always known.  The same in which, when I was 14 and my best friend was killed by a drunk driver, I had to comfort my mother because it upset her so greatly.  Instead of me sobbing and being comforted, I had to comfort her while she cried and carried on after we learned the news.  In fact, on the night of my friend’s memorial service, my mother and father attended a Cub Scout banquet instead of going with me to the church.  I went by myself; I was 14 years old.

My mother is unable to process emotion.  Period.  She deals with things by not dealing with them.  As we made our way home from the movie, I could tell she became more and more annoyed, like a child who had not gotten her way.  As we pulled up to her apartment sidewalk, I leaned over to give her a hug and, intentionally or not, she turned her back on me and I said, “Ok, mom.”  She stood up out of the car and said very loudly, with her back to me, “Oh just shut up” and slammed the door.

It was three weeks later and I had not heard from my mother.  This from a woman who would regularly call me twice a day.  I have dealt with this my entire life.  Do I play a role in annoying her or is her guard up at all times?  I’m sure I do play a part by simply expressing my feelings, concerns and opinions.  In her world however, these are signs of aggression.  This is the same woman who called me a bitch as I was growing up when I would voice my teenage angst.

As I continue in my understanding of family dynamics since returning to Colorado after being gone for over 15 years, I see more clearly every day that what I have is a mother who has never been able to mother.  I could be sad and angry and lost as I had been for most of my 54 years, but on the one night in particular, what I learned and finally saw is that my mother is unable to provide mothering because she never learned herself.  Her mother was a cruel and hateful person, a controlling and conniving narcissist and heavy drinker who was instrumental in creating the woman that is my mother.  My mother refused to have contact with her mother for the last 30 years prior to her death.  This is how it all plays out.  We are both sad little girls inside and those little girls were never nurtured.

Silence was my mother’s way of dealing with this incident and emotional discomfort.  By not engaging, perhaps it is easier for her to not hear what I have to say.  By distancing herself from my strong personality that requires of her more than she is able to provide, she is able to bury the feelings and continue to maintain an inability to converse without feeling defensive.

I am sad about this, but can only do so much.  I acknowledge my part in the situation, but am still unable to understand why a simple request to not interrupt me during a conversation comes with such a violently obvious reaction; one that leaves me still looking for mothering and that leaves her trying hard to continue the sweeping over of her emotions and covering up what she does not want to feel.  I did finally call my mother with the intention of just moving forward.  I did not mention the incident, just said hello and asked how her week was going and left it all on the surface.

These are the moments when I truly understand how we come to create our family of friends; those who support us and understand us and do not judge.  We surround ourselves with love and light and positive energy and that is ok.  We find our friends to fill the voids and the holes that persist.  We cannot control others, nor should we spend time trying to change what they have to offer.

The challenge with my mother is like a game.  I no longer feel guilty in my refusal to engage in it and am quite free of any imaginary hopes that this dynamic will ever be altered.  Life gives us challenges and it is through insight and understanding that we sometimes just need to let go.  The capacity of others is limited by their desire to expand their existence.  If they remain in their comfort zone, so be it.  We have the choice of participating in their space as much or as little as we desire.  Positive awareness is vital in understanding that we are all capable of what we choose, and how we disengage for our own well-being is just as important to honor our limits.