Zonker once had a post in which he wote: “If it’s not one thing, it’s my mother!” When I read that phrase I swear I thought that was the perfect way to describe the challenging relationship I have with my mother. Of course that was not the way he meant that phrase, but that’s how it applies in my life.

Earlier in the week I received a voice mail message from my mother summoning me to visit her this weekend. This after 5 months of not hearing anything from her and not getting call backs to my messages, nor my sister responding to my emails. She was busy she says, and my sister offered up lots of weak excuses to support her.

My family is the greatest source of frustration in my life. So why do I even bother with them? Maybe its because IÂ’m a dutiful daughter, or because I donÂ’t want to give up in case a miracle happens. Maybe its because they are the only people left in my life who I have history with or the only biological living relatives within a reasonable distance. To tell you the truth I really donÂ’t know. One thingÂ’s for sure, itÂ’s really amazing I have any self-esteem and positive outlook at all, coming from the family I grew up in.
Even as I hung up the phone last night, I knew how today was going to go. ItÂ’s been the same way for over 30 years so why change the routine now?

Within the first 5 minutes the focus would be on my weight. Even when I was modeling and weighed 92lbs I was still not “toned” enough and she found my muscles flaccid. This would naturally be followed by lots of suggestions on what I should do and how nobody would ever want me if I didn’t [fill in the blank]. Since I never respond to her comments or suggestions a quiet death would follow. But the weight of the comments were enough to hang heavy on my psyche. After a 10 minute interlude of normal conversation which was mostly gossip and a litany of offenses by other family members against her (especially my sisters) to which I no longer respond to with questions in order to figure out that they are mostly slight of perception, she would then return her focus on me. Her next 20 - 30 minute commentary would then be focused on my hair and skin followed by her eliciting agreement from anyone present. The suggestions that followed began with a slow and excruciatingly painful evaluation of my hair and skin care regimes. If she thought I wasn’t paying attention, piercing zingers would soon follow. The torture continued, by focusing on the choices of career, husband [marrying outside the culture and faith]), church, etc. but I’m sure by now you get the picture, so I won’t bore you with more details.

Over the years IÂ’ve endured it all for the sake of family harmony, and because IÂ’ve not met a family yet which doesnÂ’t have dysfunctional member of their own. So IÂ’ve endured it all, but in the last 5 years I started not to visit when I wasnÂ’t emotionally or psychologically strong to counter the negative messages of being incomplete, insufficient and very defective in many ways.

By the end of todayÂ’s visit, I was alarmed. After the first hour of cursory discussion of my deficiencies, in which IÂ’m slowly picked apart physically, she settled into a quiet lull. After about 30 min., she began by telling me that my son was so thin he was practically a skeleton (never mind that he eats everything in sight). As with me, she moved on to his skin and hair. But when she got to his teeth I was in shock. The torture was officially moving on to the next generation.

Mind you, she doesnÂ’t do this with any of my sisters or their children, only with me, and as of today my son. The saving grace was that she was speaking in Castilian, so even my nephew, who was with us for the afternoon, didnÂ’t understan what was being said.

In a way IÂ’m glad IÂ’m writing this because my stomach has begun to slowly unknot itself. Normally it would take me 3 days and lots of cleaning to get through this, but there were a lot of realizations as I began to write this post:

1) Even when I modeled I wasnÂ’t perfect in her eyes, so no matter how I look, what I wear, how successful I am, how much I work on taking care of her, how happy I am, I will never be good, perfect or even okay in her eyes.

2) I remember grandpa being somewhat critical of her and some of her choices in life, so itÂ’s obvious itÂ’s generational. (Even if I agreed with my grandfather.)

3) She has a deep-seeded belief (rooted in her upbringing) that women are incomplete without a man in their lives and she fiercely fears my independence and freedom because she truly doesnÂ’t understand what being whole and complete in oneself really is.

4) Excuses are what my family members use to shirk responsibilities or to cover up anything they failed to follow through on. ItÂ’s no wonder feeble excuses drive me crazy!

Perhaps the icing on the cake of frustration was her trying to set me up with guy. Before we left for our walk to the park, she insisted I take off my wedding band (which I always wear). I refused to do so on 2 counts: my divorce is not final, and until such time IÂ’m still married (even if IÂ’ve been separated for almost 5 yrs now); and IÂ’m truly happy with my life and not even remotely interested or thinking about a relationship. Even with cancer, I feel spiritually and psychologically whole and complete!

After 40 years I know that to counter her messages I have to spend a few days saying lots of positive affirmations, posting them around the house and writing in my journal how my choices have all served to make me the valued person that I am and to remind myself of the positive things people see, appreciate and find value in me.

Sigh! [Deep breathÂ…. HoldÂ…. Exhale slowly!] There, IÂ’m on the road to recovery. I Think IÂ’ll go do some yoga and meditate for awhile and see if I can connect to myself in a happy place.

Posted by: Michele at 11:17 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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