Your story makes me appreciate Dorothy Graham, my mother, all over again. She was 100% for me in every way. Your daughter is lucky, like I was, to have a wonderful mother.
What a beautiful day you had! Thank you for sharing Amy with us for a bit.
Sue, I full heartedly agree with the conclusion that all that we can do is be the mothers we wish we had.
I think that we take these contracts before we get here as we plan our lives and we get together to teach to learn. Perhaps our mothers agreed to be our mother so that they could learn and maybe once they got here they forgot that we were to be their teachers as well as their daughters. I don’t know.
With my sons, I i’m open and ready to support them in anyway that I can. I’ve encouraged them to show their emotions, to ask for what they deserve in a relationship. And told them they can ask me anything. This is led to some interesting conversations, which I will not share, but anything means anything. Lol.
With my mom, there was no alcohol or drug abuse, just emotional immaturity, which led to me feeling like the parent. I suspect if your mother had an abuse issue, it will leave you in a similar situation.
I had a long talk with my mother last year after Father’s Day. I have not written about this yet on my Substack, but the honesty I was able to express has shifted our relationship. I now have peace when I visit her and that is worth all the tea in China.
I am certain that from your core family the ancient wound of wishing for a different mother will be healed and eventually forgotten.
Thank you for your thoughtful response. I always love your shares. I would actually say I have already healed a few years back during my mother’s passing, but I like to share the story for others to consider if they too might find their own peace seeking the joy they produce in life and leaving the sorrow behind.
I'm happy for you, Sue! I had a tortured relationship with my mom and dreaded Mother's Day because I'd "have" to see her. I understand where you're coming from 100%. Glad you spent time with your daughter and almost-here baby.
I love how open and honest you are about your relationship with your mom. I think it is helpful for others to know that they are not alone. Our relationships with our family can be so complicated at times. I laughed so hard one time when Rom M said I would like to invent a pill that everyone takes when they are 21 that make them forget who they are related to and start over. After a minute he laughed and said I guess then I wouldn’t have a private practice.
That's a cute story, and so very true. It's an interesting exercise at this point to write about my mom, with the filters gone and for the most part, also the pain. I'm so grateful for your support and I love your willingness to share your wisdom for my readers. Ron is somewhere in time cheering us on. xo
I have to hear "she (and he) did the best she (he) knew how". . . . . really - she (they) didn't think there was a way of learning better anywhere along the way ? . . . they didn't think "oh - I didn't like it when my parents drank . . . or yelled . . . or ignored me . . . or did other things . . . why would they perpetuate it . . .
I agree, Sallie, that the "excuse" isn't helpful. But I can never move too far beyond the idea that until we've walked in someone else's shoes, we can't know their pain, their chaos, their confusion, the insanity. And yet, I can also hit the wall where I no longer work to understand. Life, the ultimate puzzle. Thanks for sharing your thoughts today. I love hearing from you.
I share an alcoholic mother with you, Sue! Mother was an alcoholic before I was born. I have enjoyed exploring her life somewhat - we also shared my father's disinterest. I "understand" some of my mother's difficulties. But she punished me for my and my father's withdrawals. When she died, I was relieved. She had taken her little knives and carved me up when I was too young to defend myself except by withdrawing. She kept saying, You don't love me!" until it was true. She put a stone in my heart and I got tired of carrying it around. I don't care any more what her difficulties were. Life is difficult and we all have wounds. We do not all take them out on our children.
I hear you, Robyn, and I feel you even more importantly. Yes, yes and yes. But I hand that burden back to whom it belongs. It's not me. I so appreciate you sharing your thoughts, and love that you continue to follow along. Did you see Lydia's head in the photo in part 1. Gosh, I loved Joe and Lydia. Are you still making one last trip back? I'd love to see you.
Thank you @Laura W. for the restack. 💕
Always! 💕⚘️
May our parents’ angst
turn into awareness in us.
In our children, awe.
Thank you Marisol for your beautiful words.
This is one of your best posts Sue & I celebrate you.
You deserve soaking up all the bliss & delight in your relationship with your daughter 💝
Awww, thank you for the kind words, Susan. I appreciate you. 💕
I love this. What a good place you're in now.
Thank you, Liz. Yes, a good place to be sure. I appreciate your support. 💕
Your story makes me appreciate Dorothy Graham, my mother, all over again. She was 100% for me in every way. Your daughter is lucky, like I was, to have a wonderful mother.
Thank you, Marianne! 💕
What a beautiful day you had! Thank you for sharing Amy with us for a bit.
Sue, I full heartedly agree with the conclusion that all that we can do is be the mothers we wish we had.
I think that we take these contracts before we get here as we plan our lives and we get together to teach to learn. Perhaps our mothers agreed to be our mother so that they could learn and maybe once they got here they forgot that we were to be their teachers as well as their daughters. I don’t know.
With my sons, I i’m open and ready to support them in anyway that I can. I’ve encouraged them to show their emotions, to ask for what they deserve in a relationship. And told them they can ask me anything. This is led to some interesting conversations, which I will not share, but anything means anything. Lol.
With my mom, there was no alcohol or drug abuse, just emotional immaturity, which led to me feeling like the parent. I suspect if your mother had an abuse issue, it will leave you in a similar situation.
I had a long talk with my mother last year after Father’s Day. I have not written about this yet on my Substack, but the honesty I was able to express has shifted our relationship. I now have peace when I visit her and that is worth all the tea in China.
I am certain that from your core family the ancient wound of wishing for a different mother will be healed and eventually forgotten.
All my love,
Patricia.
Thank you for your thoughtful response. I always love your shares. I would actually say I have already healed a few years back during my mother’s passing, but I like to share the story for others to consider if they too might find their own peace seeking the joy they produce in life and leaving the sorrow behind.
Wonderful! I love that. “…leaving the sorrow behind’s
This is beautiful, poignant, and honest, Sue. Thank you for sharing your journey as a daughter, mother, and soon-to-be grandmother.
Thank you, Paulette! Your comments always mean so much!
As does your writing, Sue!
Beautifully said !!!!
Thank you, my friend. See you soon!!!
The gifts of now. What a great place to be focusing on.
Thank you Janice! I appreciate you reading and commenting!
Thank you @Janice Walton for reading and sharing your thoughts!
I love this, and it resonates with my own experiences. Thank you for describing the struggle so beautifully.
You are so welcome, Jennifer, and thank you for your kind words.
Such sweet tender images. Difficult story, beautiful writing.
Leslie, your words mean a lot. Thank you.
I love "sustenance abuse!" It is indeed that.
I'm happy for you, Sue! I had a tortured relationship with my mom and dreaded Mother's Day because I'd "have" to see her. I understand where you're coming from 100%. Glad you spent time with your daughter and almost-here baby.
I love how open and honest you are about your relationship with your mom. I think it is helpful for others to know that they are not alone. Our relationships with our family can be so complicated at times. I laughed so hard one time when Rom M said I would like to invent a pill that everyone takes when they are 21 that make them forget who they are related to and start over. After a minute he laughed and said I guess then I wouldn’t have a private practice.
That's a cute story, and so very true. It's an interesting exercise at this point to write about my mom, with the filters gone and for the most part, also the pain. I'm so grateful for your support and I love your willingness to share your wisdom for my readers. Ron is somewhere in time cheering us on. xo
I have to hear "she (and he) did the best she (he) knew how". . . . . really - she (they) didn't think there was a way of learning better anywhere along the way ? . . . they didn't think "oh - I didn't like it when my parents drank . . . or yelled . . . or ignored me . . . or did other things . . . why would they perpetuate it . . .
just saying . . .
Sometimes a person's best is woefully awful. But like you, I question the "excuse." It doesn't help.
I agree, Sallie, that the "excuse" isn't helpful. But I can never move too far beyond the idea that until we've walked in someone else's shoes, we can't know their pain, their chaos, their confusion, the insanity. And yet, I can also hit the wall where I no longer work to understand. Life, the ultimate puzzle. Thanks for sharing your thoughts today. I love hearing from you.
I share an alcoholic mother with you, Sue! Mother was an alcoholic before I was born. I have enjoyed exploring her life somewhat - we also shared my father's disinterest. I "understand" some of my mother's difficulties. But she punished me for my and my father's withdrawals. When she died, I was relieved. She had taken her little knives and carved me up when I was too young to defend myself except by withdrawing. She kept saying, You don't love me!" until it was true. She put a stone in my heart and I got tired of carrying it around. I don't care any more what her difficulties were. Life is difficult and we all have wounds. We do not all take them out on our children.
I hear you, Robyn, and I feel you even more importantly. Yes, yes and yes. But I hand that burden back to whom it belongs. It's not me. I so appreciate you sharing your thoughts, and love that you continue to follow along. Did you see Lydia's head in the photo in part 1. Gosh, I loved Joe and Lydia. Are you still making one last trip back? I'd love to see you.