Last night, I read with an amazing group of women from the just-published anthology Because I Love Her.
This raw, honest collection of 34 essays explores the mother-daughter bond and was edited by the always-encouraging Andrea N. Richesin (who goes by “Nicki.”)
“What would we tell our mothers and daughters if we could tell them anything?” Nicki writes in the introduction. “If all our self-doubts were dismissed and honesty was the only option, what would we really say?”
“These writers discover who their mothers truly are, forgive for past wrongs, and ultimately accept they are, indeed, their mothers’ daughters,” says Nicki. “These are stories from women with vastly different experiences — from women with mothers who were mentally ill or absent and from those who had the courage to make peace with their mothers along the way.”
After the reading, one woman in the audience wanted to know: How were all of you able to write so honestly and openly about your mothers?
Good question. All of us — Joyce Maynard, Ann Marie Feld, and Ericka Lutz –took turns answering.
It was the similarity of our replies floored me: many of us were raised in very secretive families. We grew up holding onto family secrets, and we did not talk about “things.”
It was Joyce Maynard who pointed out that by being so open in her writing — and having such honest dialogue on the page — we are actually giving our children permission to be that open, too.
Every time I sat down to work on that essay, I shrunk. And my essay is about just that: trying to write the darn thing! That sounded too blaming, that sounded too forgiving. I’d never get it right. One moment, I was backing away because I wanted to take care of my mother. The next, I was lashing out.
Dealing with childhood suffering is complicated. You can carry it around for your life, heavy and secretive. You can blame your parents forever. No matter, it follows you straight into your adult relationships. And here we are, right?
Part of me is terrified that my essay — which is called “What would I tell her” — is out there in the world. Another part of me is hopeful that my mother and I will repair old wounds, and that my own daughter will openly express her own feelings with me as she grows up.
I’d love to know:
If you could tell anything to your mom, what would you say?
~~~
P.S. Thanks to Depot Dad — post surgery! — for coming out in the rain to hear us!
Post Footer automatically generated by Add Post Footer Plugin for wordpress.
{ 1 trackback }
{ 22 comments… read them below or add one }
Well, she’s dead, so I’d say: you raised me right! I’m doing awesome. But I couldn’t save your husband and other daughter. They are painfully lonely, and my sister fell 4 stories from her patio in what may or may not have been a suicide attempt 2 years ago. I try to stay in touch with them, but they put forth no effort at all and I had to decide that I couldn’t care more about other people’s lives than they cared about their own – even if it was my own family.
I would simply tell my mom that (ironically) words cannot express the gratitude I feel for having her as my mother, and I’m deeply grateful for everything she’s done and continues to do for me. My mom has given of herself wholehearteadly, unselfishly, solely for my well-being, for as long as I can remember. Her love, care, and deep rooted concern for me is like no other I’ve ever seen in ANY relationship. This is why while I can never repay her or even make her understand how much I love and appreciate her, I honor her every Mother’s Day, as well as whenever I can,throughout the year.
Honey and LEM: Both of your comments are incredibly honest and open. Thank you. They both have me teary for different reasons.
I swear we must be sharing a brain lately or something. I wrote about my relationship with my mother last week.
Like you I keep erasing it.. what I would love to say just won’t come out.
I can’t quite get it onto paper.
I do know this… my daughter and I share a special bond and I will not let the past ruin that.
Kari´s last blog post…More stress… financial stress
I would have tried harder to get her to the Docs sooner. But that was to little avail, and probably would not have made much of a difference at that late date. But mostly I said everything that I needed to say & she needed to hear.
On a completely unrelated ‘dickmatized question’, here’s the line up of our least fav Dicks:
[http://uglyrepublicans.com/republicans/United-States/Dick-Cheney/cheney_emotional_chart.jpg]
Cheers, ‘VJ’
I would say I’m sorry. As a teenager, I judged my mother harshly. I was angry with my alcoholic father and even angrier with my mother .. for what I’m not even sure. For not standing up for herself? for not taking care of herself? for not taking care of me and my sisters the way we needed her?
Now I see the shades of gray I couldn’t when I was 17. It was a time of few options for women, and she rdid the best she could with what she had to work with. I would tell her I understand.
I have a mother and a step mother. My parents divorced when I was 7. My father was awarded custody of my brother and I, and he immediately remarried right after the divorce was final. My step mother was a much my mother as my mom in some respects.
My mom died from cancer in February 2001. I am not sure I have anything to say that I haven’t already said. I always tried to tell her in words how much she meant to me, and somehow I always felt I fell way short. She was much better at telling me and I never had to wonder.
My step mother and I have always had a contentious relationship. I used to blame her, but a few years after I left home and really had some time to reflect I realized that my father had a lot to do with it. My step mother is not a person that really likes children. She was basically saddled with full time responsibility for not just her two children, but also my brother and I. I was the oldest, but we were all pretty close in age. Four wild and rambunctious boys. My father was a work-aholic and was gone from 5am or so until sometime between 6 and 8 pm. Mainly I would tell her now that I’m sorry and I understand better what was really happening.
I have learned that moms silently endure a lot for their children. By the time we figure it all out or learn some of the secrets they kept, it is usually too late.
I found a poem in 2002 that I’ll share here. To me it does a wonderful job of describing moms, the difficulties of trying to understand the bond between mother and child, the frustrations of trying to express how you really feel, and the fact that our time with our mothers is always too short. It was written by JD Frazer “Illiad” of userfriendly.org (http://ars.userfriendly.org/cartoons/?id=20020512&mode=classic):
Motherhood, O Gordian Rite,
Chafed with paints of life,
A canvas thick with lighter oils,
Yet stained by Quiet Strife.
Ideal heights, and high ideals,
Make us aim for steeples.
I try, you try, to clutch our bond,
Yet prove we’re different people.
Words, O Words, what they can say,
Real things not just tokens!
Yet sometimes thought departs my mind,
And wrong words become spoken.
A Turn of phrase I cannot quoth,
Nor proffer due salute,
So gifts I give to speak for me,
A poet fallen mute.
Due words I mightn’t ever say,
And you mightn’t always see,
Yet when time arrives to take your hand,
I’ll say time stole you from me.
I already told my mother everything I had to say to her. She couldn’t handle the truth – never could. Nuff said.
MindyMom´s last blog post…A Very Good Day
I tell my mother every day that I love her.
She accepts me (and she reads the blog so she really knows me) as who I am without question. She is my best friend and supports me through thick and thin. Always has.
Now, perhaps I should tell her to go an enter my masturbation contest!
She’d probably tell me her story. But hmmm… do I really wanna know?
T´s last blog post…Masturbation Celebration
I would just say that I miss her terribly. Ironically enough, this would have been her 85th birthday.
John F´s last blog post…When A Relationship Gets Serious
John F: Happy Birthday to your mama. She was so blessed to have you.
Do you think it’s odd that I can tell everyone in my life how important they are to me and how much I love them… but feel insanely awkward when I try to say these things to my mom? I guess we have to bust through this basic wall before I move on to what I would tell her.
I have spent my life trying to figure out how to communicate with my Mom in a way that doesn’t put her on the defense or in a sour mood. As a child and most of my adult life I have always felt that it was my fault when she would seem to be dragged down by the ups/downs of my life. This turned into a rather large suitcase of guilt I lug around and tendancies to “fix” all who come into my life.
I’ve come to realize recently via a patient therapist that due a little thing called co-dependancy and the fact she’s engaged in this approach to relationships for most of her 78 years there is no “figuring it out”. She had a alcoholic father, absent mother and married 4 drunks (the last one did sober up). This is how she copes.
I am now simply trying to figure out how to have a relationship with someone who doesn’t see me as a 34 year old adult daughter but rather as a 34 year old “little girl” who in her mind still can’t do life without her help. This is tough becuase I desperately want my daughter to know her grandparents but my sanity takes hits on a daily basis for this want. SO, what would I tell my Mom if I thought she would actually listen…breath, relax, enjoy what is in front of you and stop looking to me and my daughters life as “something to do”.
Wow, Wanda, your comment REALLY resonates with me. Big time.
“As a child and most of my adult life I have always felt that it was my fault when she would seem to be dragged down by the ups/downs of my life. This turned into a rather large suitcase of guilt I lug around and tendencies to “fix” all who come into my life.”
I sure get that.
And my mother came from a similar pattern, which gives me much empathy for her today: she, too, was raised by an alcoholic father and absent mother… amazing.
I am not too sure since it has been a solid year of no communication and I feel as if I dumped a bad boyfriend.
I guess honestly I would tell her that I want my relationship with my daughter to be the polar opposite of her and my relationship. And any blame/denial/naysaying aside, her presence in our lives is toxic and until we can find the serum distance is best.
This is a great post. My mother passed away June of 2007… and I have often started a letter to her and one day plan to post it on my blog (perhaps soon with this new inspiration)… but of course… it will be dripping with sentiment and heartfelt ache as I long to hug her one more time or tell her what an amazing mentor she was for me as she also was a single mom – widowed in her mid thirties and raising 3 of us “babies” into our adulthood remaining single. She will always be my hero and of course with this weekend drawing near, I am constantly thinking of her.
Katherine SOLOdotmom´s last blog post…Weekend at a GLANCE
I didn’t say it as well as Judy did but I have the EXACT same situation she does – even the timing.
MindyMom´s last blog post…Right Now
I’m going to post my “Letter to my Mother” on my blog on Mother’s Day”. I had already told you Rachel, that reading the collection of essays inspired me to do the same for my mother on Mother’s Day. I may even do a letter to my mother-in-law, whom I adore. I’ve been working on my Mom’s…but it’s reaching a standstill. It’s really hard not to censor yourself a bit.
I wonder for those of you that have been able to let go of that relationship how you were able to do that. Everytime I think it… I just can’t do it. Guilt is a heavy thing.
Kari´s last blog post…More stress… financial stress
This is nice but I miss your posts about your personal life. Now that you have a boyfriend you’re all secretive and sh@*!
Great post Rachel! My Mom passed in 2004 and her birthday was May 3rd and with Mother’s day around the corner I constantly think of her. She was my hero. My role model. My dad passed when I was 13 and she never remarried. She remained single till the day she died (28 yrs later)and raised me and my younger sister who was 9 at the time all alone. She was my best friend. I miss her every day. I long to hear her voice. I long for her hugs, but right before she passed her last words to me were “I love you” and she told me that every day of my life till the day she died and I felt that love always. I miss her so much! Let bygones be bygones. Life is definitely short and enjoy every minute of every day. The mother-daughter bond is unbreakable.
Thank you so much GLSD. Your mom sounds amazing.
This gave me the chills: “Right before she passed her last words to me were “I love you” and she told me that every day of my life till the day she died and I felt that love always.”