My mother and I have been BFFs for forever. My mama was all mine. When Mama wasn’t working, she was with me. She taught me how to read. She taught me how to ride a bike. How to roller skate. We could read each other’s mind, so much so that I decided I was not going to talk until I was 4. I mean, what was the point; Mama knew exactly what I was saying without hearing a single word. For 6 years Mama was my entire world. And I was hers.
Then the nightmare happened. Suddenly I had to share her with 3 kids who were NOT A THING like me. I was a reader. I liked quiet. I liked solitude. They were the total opposite. And their father? *extreme sigh* Let’s give him his own blog entry, shall we?
So life unfolded. The manufactured drama of kids who have been taken from their mother and forced to live with a new one. The feelings of being the odd man out. The teenage years and all the angst that comes with it. All on top of moving from one place to another every 2-4 years.
Then I had my first born. Mama’s first grandchild. I needed my mama, and she wanted to see her grandbaby. She was my best friend again. We had our differences, sure. Like when she hung up on me for improper phone etiquette. And when she compared me to a door mat. I was so angry, but she was my Mama; I loved her. When I moved away, I missed her so much I called every day, maybe 2-3 times a day. I was on the phone for HOURS with her. She knew my work schedule, after work schedule, what time I woke up, what time I went to bed. The child’s school, schedule, probably even the last time he had a bowel movement. It was as if she was next door.
Unfortunately we fell out, again. This time was over her being Mom; she told my story to someone I specifically did not want to know my story under the guise of “I thought they should know”. I was so upset I actively avoided her. But the issue was not so much what she did, but the invasion of boundaries that I had experienced from the entire family. I was (am?) a people pleaser and I was terribly afraid that if I did not do what was asked/expected I would be kicked out of the family. I would write letters to friends, and my step-sister would read them. My step brothers would call me names and no one would correct them. My step-father treated me like Cinder Soot and apparently it was what I deserved. And of course I said nothing to defend/protect myself because I was afraid of being ostracized.
In the past, Mama and I would drift and come back together, and drift again. But this time needed to be different. I needed my Mama to stay in my life, but I needed her respect as well as her love. So I started setting boundaries. I would hang up if those boundaries were violated, or not answer the phone. I admit, there were days that she would call and I just would not have enough spell slots to deal with her. (I know that doesn’t make sense to all of you, please go here for an explanation) But there were also days when I was truly too busy to answer.
It is important for my readers to know that the story she told was about me being in a m
ental hospital for a few days. It was during this stay that I realised that the constant invasion of boundaries was toxic. I also realised that it was not going to be easy for me to change a more than 2 decades old ritual that was beyond second nature. It was going to be slow going. I had to teach Mama how I interpret what she does out of love. I had to teach her how to love me. But first I had to figure out how to love myself. Have you seen the movie Runaway Bride? Just like Julia Roberts’ character I had to determine – figurative speaking –‘how I like my eggs’. That if you haven’t taken the time to learn who you are, then relationships with other people are going to be exhausting. If you don’t assert yourself, relationships are going to be frustrating.
Not everyone is going to be happy about your self-discovery journey. You are going to lose people along the way. They may just fall away, or they may mushroom cloud. I was so afraid to tell my mama how I felt, until the one day I saw how angry I was after having spoken to her. And while I was stewing, she was going about her life as if she had done me a favor – absolutely clueless of how I really felt. When I finally got that courage, she changed. Little by little, she relearned who her first born is. And now we spend hours on the phone laughing and crying, sometime laughing until we are crying. All with a mutual understanding of what each other needs to feel loved.
Do not be afraid to be you. Be unapologetically you. Clichéd as it sounds, let your light shine. You are absolutely going to napalm some bridges. Others may just crumble away. Still others – and these are the best kind – will adapt. But when the smoke clears, the relationships you have will be the best, most fulfilling, beautiful ones to have.
But first: Be your most authentic You.
Chaotically Controlled 