Somewhere Under A Rainbow
I spent the whole of Wednesday buried under my covers feeling sorry for myself. Paige and I have been fighting like cats and dogs as of late, maneuvering our way through the typical mother daughter dynamics (I hate you! I love you!). I’m not exaggerating when I say that there have been some knock down drag out screaming matches and threats of boycotting each other – 4-ever!
It’s completely unrelenting.
I think what’s difficult about this whole mother-daughter dynamic is the fact that I am a motherless mother. I have been going through this whole parenting shtick without a reference point or prior experiences to draw back on. Nothing in my childhood resembles what I am going through right now and it’s hard, so hard, to imagine that we’ll walk away from the battlefield stronger and more resilient. It seems inconceivable in this moment.
Maybe the problem is this perception that I have had ever since I was a child. Sans mother, I ended up piecing together every Disney movie and after school special I ever saw and thought – “THAT is what a mother is supposed to be like.” I achingly longed to have a mother in my life and as time passed and Paige was born, I actually longed to be that Disney version of a mother.
Inevitably I ended up piecing together something wholly unrealistic. My expectations of mother became an amalgamation of Caroline Ingalls, Martha Stewart and a little bit of my sassy 5th Grade teacher, Mrs. Christensen. Suffice to say, being a mother is nothing like that. It’s harder and the days never end in sing a longs of “Old Dan Tucker” with Pa strumming on the fiddle next to the fireplace. At least not at our house.
Admittedly, I really don’t know what I would have missed had my mother lived. I could have just as easily been wrapped up in all kinds of heartache because of her mental illness. Who knows. But the void is there nonetheless and there are times, even as an adult, when I feel like I need a mother to curl up into when I’m feeling defeated. Wednesday was one of those days.
But it’s okay. Instead of working through the sadness, I allowed myself the space to feel blue for the day. I closed my eyes and wished I had something different going on in my life. I lamented about the things were not easy. And I sat there just for a second, indulging in how sorry I felt for myself.
And then I realized I don’t really feel sorry for myself. I feel blessed.
The next morning, I dusted myself off and pressed the rewind button. Though life isn’t easy, I do feel as though my life is full of sweetness and goodness and love. Love from my daughter. Love from my friends. Love from my family. Self love.
Pity party is over and I am back at it again. And as I headed into Seattle on the water taxi this morning, I realized that life is beautiful.
This entry was posted on Friday, February 26th, 2010 at 8:13 am and is filed under Daily. Both comments and pings are currently closed.
26 Responses to “Somewhere Under A Rainbow”
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Great post!
In the early 90′s, my husband and I lived at the north end of the island, in the house at the trailhead to the park on Cunliffe Rd. It’s a whole different world, and I was so intrigued and excited to read you moved there. Congratulations – enjoy!
I had the mentally ill mother and not to say one is better than the other, but at least you can fantasize that your mother would have been a good one? I don’t know. But I feel your pain. I never had that mother either. You’re doing a great job just by being there and trying. This I know for sure.
.-= rachelgab´s last blog ..Ch-Ch-Changes =-.
just wanted to say, “I love you, hon.”
My mom’s mother died when my mom was in college. It didn’t click with me until recently that my mom may say/do some of the things that drive me crazy because she was never anyone’s adult daughter. She doesn’t really know about the mother-daughter dynamic between a 30-something and her mom (from the daughter’s perspective). Realizing that has helped me to at least understand why she may behave the way she does, even if it doesn’t change the way I feel in a given situation.
Anyway, enough about me. Bless you. I think you’re gonna make it.
.-= robyn´s last blog ..So…What’s It Like? =-.
I know what you mean. I lost my mom 9 years ago to cancer and although she was a great mom and we were really close, as I am two months away from becoming a mother, I am really sad that i won’t have her there to guide me, give me reassurance or knock sense into me. I even miss the times that she annoyed me right now. i have other wonderful mother role models in my life but nothing replaces that mother daughter thing. Good for you to allow a little pity party – we all need permission to do this and then get back on the horse. You are awesome.
My husband goes through much of the same thinking you do since he is a fatherless father. I can empathize that it must sometimes be a struggle when you don’t have a reference point for mothering (or in my husband’s case, fathering).
I guess the opposite struggle to yours is when I find myself sounding EXACTLY like my mother did, which of course I swore would never happen. Scary when that happens, and then I bemoan the fact that my daughter will eventually blame every bad thing in her life on me (which I did with my mother). Ah, the circle of life. Oh well, like I always say, that’s what therapy is for.
But seriously, butting heads with our daughters is tough, and I feel that I sometimes spend more time crying in my pillow over the outbursts I’ve had on my daughter than patting myself on the back for the things I do right with her. But as you said, there is love there, and that’s what matters most.
My mom is real nice. . and we get along swell. Our relationship when I was younger consisted of the exact same I HATE YOU/I LOVE YOU – NO, I AM RUNNING AWAY UNLESS YOU BUY ME JORDACHE. . dynamic (although I’m assuming your daughter does not covet Jordache). I also spent a lot of time wishing my mother was Mrs. Quimby, as in Ramona’s mother. Definitely pat yourself on the back!
x
Paula
.-= adhocmom´s last blog ..Cause We’re Easy Like Saturday Morning. . . =-.
My word, I can’t wait to meet you one day.
K.
.-= Karen from Chookooloonks´s last blog ..chookooloonks life list #80: taste 50 types of rum (no. 1 – tommy bahama golden sun) =-.
I can’t imagine not having my Mom around…but I say that as a 36 year old woman who so totally tormented her mom through those teenage & even college years. She was single mom just the two of us for most of my early childhood (1-10) so we are oddly close as I imagine you and Paige are close. Even as a surely teenager I knew exactly how to push her buttons (although I try NOT to do it now–although I am sure I can still do it sometimes) and she did mine too I am sure. Today even when she drives me crazy and makes me want to scream– I can only hope to be the mom she is….I know you and Paige will get there too. She knows you love her which makes her life easier in ways she feels now but will not really realize until she is older. It’s an amazing gift you give & she’ll get it–you’ll both get there & it will be good.
These years are hard on everyone!
Oh wow. You’re right, motherhood is just so damn HARD some days, and I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have my mother to lean on/call at all hours of the day and night. Good for you for taking the time to just feel sad and kind of, well, beat-up. And good for you for bouncing back.
.-= Amy Murray´s last blog ..*BANG* =-.
It sounds like you are figuring it out. My mom and I had a pretty solid relationships despite her mental illness and life struggles… and with a daughter my own on the way, I am freaked the hell out that I am going to mess this whole thing up- but posts like this give me hope.
Good luck friend! Sounds like you are already that awesome kind of mom you’ve written about.
.-= Jasmine´s last blog ..36 Weeks =-.
Was that rainbow really convenient or what?
Sure, there are going to mother-daughter arguments from time to time, but I still think you’re doing a good job.
This post resonated with me so closely, I thought that I had written it! Although my mother died only recently, she was never really in my life, suffering mental illness from before my birth. Our relationship was rocky and horrid at the best of times, and never “normal”, whatever that is.
I hear you, and am also dealing with a 15-year-old daughter who is wonderful and amazing, but can also be so difficult and horrid that I too live with that perpetual knot in my stomach, and the guilt, knowing that although I do love her, sometimes I really hate her.
But, as they say, this too shall pass. Right?
Take care…
.-= Mary @ Holy Mackerel´s last blog ..A Post About How I Kind Of Fail As A Mother, But Don’t Worry, I’m Not Emo =-.
Dunno if this is consolation, but my mother and I fought like the dickens when I was Paige’s age. As someone else already mentioned, you guys drive each other nuts precisely because you know each other so well and know how to push each other’s buttons. It’s when she STOPS fighting you that perhaps you should do a double take and assess whether she is pulling away, rather than understanding you better. (The former is what I did to my mom, and over 10 years later, I am attempting to fix that….)
I LOVE this post.
What a beautiful picture–and a great attitude.
.-= Asianmommy´s last blog ..St. Patrick’s Day Fortune Cookies =-.
PLEASE tell me you’re coming to BlogHer this year so I can hug your face. I’m so glad you found your rainbow. Also, you deserve every single bit of love you’ve got coming your way.
.-= Jen L.´s last blog ..Comfort Food Saturday: Daniel’s Hot Chocolate =-.
I want to assure you that what you are going through is completely normal and to be expected. All us daughters had those terrible fights with our mothers during our teenage years. I sometimes look back and think our fight must have lasted from the time I was 14 until I was 20. But, of course that is not completely true. There were a lot of great moments in there. And, through it all, even when I hated her and believed she knew absolutely nothing about me or what I was feeling, I knew I could speak to her about anything. She had my back. She was my biggest fan and greatest protector. Maybe not a friend, as moms should really never strive to be friends, but better than a friend. And, yes, we came out the other side strong, healthy and very connected. My mother died when I was 32. Until then I talked to her everyday. Sometimes several times a day and when we lived in the same city I would see her several times a week. And I came to realize she did know me and what I was going through and had a lot of valuable advice. Paige will get there. And even when she railing against you, know that in her heart she loves you and even respects you. Hang in there. My daughters are still little, but I know I’m in for a world of hurt. We’ll all get through it.
.-= Happy Housewife´s last blog ..Time to Party =-.
What a beautiful post with a picture perfect ending
.-= Pippi´s last blog ..Not Me! =-.
My mother and I fought like you and Paige. I once pushed her buttons so hard she yelled “F—!” It was the one and only time I ever heard her use that word.
Here’s the good news and the reason why I’m writing you: I love and adore my mother to pieces, talk to her on the phone every day and see her once a week. I’d see her more if we lived closer.
I wish you had mother to call every night too. I am so sorry that you don’t.
I feel certain that you will have a lovely relationship with your daughter as adults, however. Hang in there!
.-= Dana´s last blog .."I want to tell you my secret now." =-.
I was a horrible teenager (moody, insecure, just wanted to be left alone) and my mother had no idea how to deal with me. She’d had a very tormented relationship with her own mother and had pieced together her own Disney image of what a daughter should be like. Needless to say I was nothing like that and her disappointment was very tangible. There is no one on this planet who can push my buttons like my mother and vice versa.
BUT. I’m 24 now and we’re doing fine. With the occasional hick-up, we’ve both learned to accept the other for what she is and isn’t. 10 years ago, I don’t think either one of us expected that day would ever come.
So hang in there, sanity will prevail.
Well, I know I said this over drinks, but my sisters and I all had a HORRIBLE time from 14-17 with our mom, it was a war zone from dusk to dawn, but eventually we all chilled out and now are close, talk often and look back on those (BAD) years with a little regret and a “what can you do” attitude. I think that every mom and daughter will struggle at this stage—even when we moms think and hope we’ll be the one who escapes the drama.
Your photo made me very HAPPY! Hoping to be on the Island soon.
.-= haitian american family of three´s last blog ..The New American Family: =-.
Our relationship with our kids is never the way we imagined it. DOn’t get me wrong, I am blessed with an amazing relationship with them, but it wasn’t modeled after mine with my mother. (Okay, sometimes as an example of what not to do…) And I did want to be this uber perfect tv version of mothers.
Instead, we met somewhere in the middle. And our Disney influence is found in our songs. There are no Disney moms…only evil step-monsters.
.-= Nicki´s last blog ..So far… =-.
I’m a single mom – and motherless mother – too. My mom died when I was 10. And even though my daughter (who is now almost 20) confidently announced she was going to be a pastor when she was 14 (geez, at 43 I STILL don’t know what I want to be when I grow up) and was in most respects a “perfect teenager” (if there IS such an animal), that didn’t stop us from having some memorable screaming fights. Some fueled by her immature and irrational wants and desires and comparisons to what more affluent two-parent friends had … and some by my complete inability to find the right context in my own experience to deal with a hormone-infused teenage girl.
All reminders that none of us is issued an instruction manual for this most important of jobs.
My biggest fear? That if my kid DOES become a pastor some day that my mothering faux pas will be the topic of soooo many sermons.
You’re in the thick of it now … but you and Paige WILL come out the other side.
I have three…three teenage girls.
The closest we got to Disney is my daughter singing “look look at me! I’m Pocahontas!” to the tune of the Aladdin theme song, while jumping around the living room with 3 pairs of underwear on her head.
I can’t wait to show her boyfriend the photos.
My heart goes out to you and I am inspired
by your ability to dust yourself off and look up
to see the rainbows in front of you.
Here’s to another another day of this beautiful life.
.-= Jennifer June´s last blog ..Give it to me baby =-.
Giyen, have you read any of Hope Edelman’s work? I, too, am a motherless mother, and I’m one of those interviewed for her book of that title. I always feel as though I’m the only one who has no idea what I’m doing, but I know I’m not. Hang in there.
.-= Annie´s last blog ..I double dog dare you not to smile =-.