Just Between Us Girls
How many of us are secretly (or not so secretly) haunted by the fear that we're turning into our mothers? The thought has certainly crossed my mind more than a few times.
My brother loves to tease me by pointing out all the ways I am like my mother. "The apple doesn't fall too far from the tree, ya know," he smirks. He knows this freaks me out.
And my son does the same thing. On Mother's Day we went to visit my mother and my son sat in the big easy chair, chuckling softly as he watched my mother go about her activities. I knew what he was thinking. "What are you laughing at?" I asked in mock irritation.
"You do the same thing as Grandma!" he laughed.
"I do not!" I huffed defensively. I knew he was right, but I was not going to admit it.
So here's the question: Why does it bother me to acknowledge similarities between my mother and me? And why do these mother/daughter similarities seem to bother so many other women as well? I know I'm not alone in this.
I recall a Life History class I used to teach at USC. One week, I gave my students the assignment to "Write about your life's work." The next week, students shared their writing assignments in class.
One woman spoke up with a very serious look on her face: "You know, before I took this class, if anyone had asked me about my life's work, I would have told them I was a lab technician. That's what I'm paid to do, and that's what my training was in -- lab work. But as I wrote on this assignment, I realized what my real life's work is -- my real life's work is proving that I am not my mother."
"Proving it to whom?" I asked her.
"Proving it to the world ..." she replied, "No .... maybe proving it to myself. I've spent my whole life trying to prove to myself that I am not like my mother."
"So, did you prove it?" I asked.
"No," she replied. "In writing this assignment, I realized that I've been wrong all these years. I'm at a time in my life when I need to come to terms with my mother -- and my father as well, for that matter. I see now that I am my mother's daughter, and I'm at peace with it. I can accept her just the way she is, and just the way she isn't. I've finally given up wanting my mother to be something that she isn't. For the first time, I feel like I can love her and accept her just as she is."
"That's pretty remarkable," I replied.
"Well, you want to know something else?" she continued, "Something even more important came out of this. In accepting my mother the way she is, I finally feel like I can accept myself too -- just the way I am!" Her face lit up with a smile, as she handed me her assignment.
Ahhh, that's one of the joys of being a teacher. You get to learn from your students. That particular student taught me that when we come to accept our parents and love them for who they are, warts and all, there is enormous freedom and healing available in that moment.
Oh ... and it probably made her mom pretty happy, too!\