I have been suffering recently from a lot of frustration with my mom. It's not what you're thinking. I'm not talking about your typical teen/young adult parental angst. I haven't lived with my mom in years, I'm pretty much done with all that angst. No, I'm talking about something else entirely. My mom is brilliant, extremely gifted, and beautiful. My frustration stems from her absolute inability to accept those facts.
Let's start with a description of my mom. My mother is beautiful. She has brown hair and brown eyes and a uniquely lovely face. I have always felt like she looks like a real-life Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood painting.
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| something much like this painting by John Williams Watherhouse |
She has these beautiful delicate hands and long wrists that, odd as it may sound, have long been my great envy. As for her abilities...
My mom was strong enough to separate from my dad when he abused their relationship. She was strong enough to forgive him completely and take him back, and then to leave for good when he abused that relationship again (I respect her for every single one of those decisions). My mom raised two very young children singlehandedly. She worked incredibly hard at some very menial jobs at first and then essentially created the need for a completely new position at the local boys and girls club in New Mexico for herself. She then packed us up and moved us up to Oregon ostensibly to help my great aunt who was, at that time, taking care of my great grandmother whilst also dealing with a newborn. However a large part of her motivation was nothing but her faith in a prompting she received that she would meet her future husband in Oregon. She did meet the man she ended up marrying; she then committed to this man with significant and sometimes frightening baggage of his own. She has remained committed to him for the last 18 years and poured herself into their relationship. And in the last couple of years she took the entire weight of caring for her own mother throughout the progression of grandma's dementia with no help from any of her siblings.
My mom is an excellent cook and baker. She decided there was no reason to pay exorbitant prices for store-bought chocolates so she taught herself how to make her own hand-dipped gourmet chocolates. Her children wanted absurd and impractical birthday cakes so she taught herself how to make them. She created extravagant costumes and dress-up clothing for us purely through trial and error--she didn't have patterns or Pinterest to tell her how to make a crown or a scepter or an entire Native American costume complete with teepee. She taught herself how to paint and draw and sing and play the guitar and piano. She makes cards, and hand-made boxes, and face pins, and Ukranian easter eggs, and so many more amazing things I can't even remember them all. She writes songs and makes her own jewelry. She has created a beautiful, calming space in our front and back yard. She has recently started writing a story.
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| these are nothing compared to some of the ones my mom has made |
I haven't even mentioned my mom's ability to empathize with people, her sincere concern for others, her commitment to her responsibilities, her ability to understand and help people, or her determination to put others before herself. Truly, the list of my mom's achievements, abilities, and gifts is a long one.
But do you know what she'd say if you asked her to list her own gifts? She might say something about her proclivity for counselling (the vocation she's always dreamed of), but almost immediately she would start telling you about anything but her positive qualities. She might tell you about her sister and how much greater Vicky is than her. She might tell you about her husband or her kids. Or she might start telling you about all her own failings and faults and flaws. This is because she legitimately does not see all of those amazing things that I just told you about.
You might say my mother has anorexia of the mind. Just like an anorexic girl looks in the mirror and sees an obese delusion rather than the slender (often even unhealthily so) reality, my mother looks at herself and rather than the capable, creative, beautiful reality she sees an ugly, incompetent, stupid, inadequate illusion.
No matter how many times you tell the anorexic that she's crazy; she isn't fat; she has to eat something because she is quite literally wasting away...she will not listen. She cannot. She can see herself right there in the mirror and she can see how fat she is. So it is with my mother. No matter how many times I or my aunt Vicky, or everyone else in the world tells my mother that she is smart and talented and able; no matter how many times we tell her that she can do things; we tell her that she is hurting herself and those around her...she will not...she cannot believe us. Can't she see for herself how untrue all of that is? Can't she see how inadequate she is?
I cannot remember a time when my mother was happy with herself--with her weight or her appearance. And I have a remarkably good memory. My entire life I've been listening to my mom say that she isn't smart enough for this or that; she's not skinny or young enough to wear that dress or those earrings; she's not talented enough to play that song. She is never good enough. Never.
It could be argued that what divides us from the "lesser" animals is self-awareness. But, like so many things in this life, our great blessing and strength is also our great weakness. There is no more vicious voice of criticism, judgement, and critique than the one inside your head. Because you are aware of exactly how often you fall short of the mark. Outsiders don't have the benefit of seeing our expectations, intentions, and goals alongside our actions like we do. So they don't know just how often those actions are actually pathetic, half-assed failures. At least, that is how it seems to us. Because that mark you're falling short of? It is self-imposed. It is your mark, not the rest of the world's.
So when people tell my mom that she is wonderful she looks at her self and her life and her plans and she sees that they aren't what they're "supposed" to be so she says "it's all fine and good for them to say that...but they don't know what's really going on."
How do I know this is what is going on inside her head? Well, I suppose I don't for sure. But I'm pretty confident. Because she passed this right on to me.
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| came from this guy's pretty awesome blog here |
Kara came over last night to visit. We had a really great talk, during one point of which she said to me "We've both turned out to be pretty great. We're both confident, smart, capable women." Do you want to know what my instant mental response was? Something along the lines of "hell no I'm not confident!" I am terrified all the time of every single thing! I don't feel capable of dealing with things, I don't think I am particularly good at much. I think I'm smart, but I'm constantly worried that I'm about to discover that that is not the case. I assume people don't want me around or they don't like me. I believe that the man I marry will have sacrificed being married to a woman he finds physically attractive to be married to one with "other qualities". I am not exaggerating. These are the constant refrains inside my head.
Where did I start this? I said I am frustrated with my mom.
My mom has told me that she is convinced that her children hate her. She thinks that my brother and I hate her. Our mother. And that is why I am frustrated with my mom. Because her self-loathing and self-doubt are reaching crippling levels. And there is nothing I can do to shatter that mental mirror that is showing her such a lie. There is no way for me to communicate to her that that inner critic is lying. That her children love her. That she is brilliant. That she is creative and capable. All she can see and all she can hear are her own perceived inadequacies. Every conversation, every interaction, is filtered through the distorting lens of her insecurities so that it inevitably comes out supporting her negative opinion of herself.
As I struggle through the process of conquering my own issues, dealing with my own self-doubt and self-loathing I keep looking at my mom's life and that is what keeps me motivated. Even before I started this project I can see that I have been doing some of this. I am trying desperately to not be my mother. Not because I don't love her and not because I don't think that she is amazing...but because she does not believe she is. And that is what I don't want to emulate.
