In her later years, my mother wanted only to know peace and harmony.
“Stop being so difficult,” she would say to me whenever I wanted to talk about our relationship. “Just be nicer to me and everything will be fine.”
I struggled to understand how wanting to talk about our relationship was not nice. I believed talking about the challenges we faced was the path to peace and harmony.
My mother felt otherwise.
Peace and harmony come when we let the past lie where it belongs.
For me, peace and harmony are founded on honesty. Not the ‘brutal honesty’ that some feel is necessary to get it all out in the open, but rather, the heart-driven honesty of being vulnerable and truthful about what is true for you. Your pains, hurts, feelings and thoughts.
Honesty does not accuse. It reflects.It listens. It hears. I respects.
What is true for me. What is true for you. What I’m feeling. What you’re feeling. Understanding. Observing. Making conclusions about. Making decisions on.
My mother struggled to face ‘truths’, at least truths of the personal kind. To her, my constant quest to understand, know, explore and talk about our human frailties, quibbles, quirks and inconsistencies was disagreeable.
We struggled to find peace and harmony together.
In looking back on my relationship with my mother, I can see the gaps where I could have built a bridge but chose instead to stand in the brutal truth of my position without respecting hers.
I see where her need for letting the past lie in peace was in constant conflict with my desire to unearth it, dig up the roots and till the soil so we could plant new seeds.
And I see where I ignored her cries for silence in my efforts to be heard.
And I am at peace.
Today, I can see where I judged our dance of intimacy as not enough and she saw it as too much.
I can see the steps I took that were out of time with hers, and, where our truths were singing different songs.
There is truth in everything but not all things are true.
For my mother and me, there is one truth that can never be denyed. It is unassailably true. The truth is, she gave me birth. I am grateful for the gift of life.
The rest is just a story we created to make sense of a relationship that could never be what either of us wanted or believed we needed because neither of us could see the other as the other wanted to be seen.
My mother wanted to seen as a ‘good mother’. I judged her harshly.
She felt my judgements. I felt her disappointment in me.
To grow, to learn, to become, I had to move through my feelings of not being who she wanted to become who I want to be.
I am becoming. Everyday. Me..
And there’s the truth shining bright. My relationship with my mother was exactly the one I needed to become who I am today. It was exactly the one I took to get here now.
I am grateful for the journey.
And that’s the truth.
Thank you Mom!
Dare Boldly 
Two very different thoughts on life between a mother and daughter and yet, as you mention, in the end it was what you needed to become who you are today. Your blog today moved me – it was beautiful and heartfelt – we are always learning. I love your quote “ There is truth in everything but not all things are true.” We don’t always have to agree with one another but listening to our hearts and living our own truth is important for our growth. 💕
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Thank you Val. My mother and I had a complicated relationship that gave me a mirror to reflect upon who and how I wanted to be in this world. It is a mirror I continue to use to I am not just a reflection of my truth, but the living manifestation of it. ❤ ❤ ❤
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LG,
Much of what you say here reminds me of my relationship with my mother. I saw a counsellor for a few months, many years ago, ostensible to deal with a relationship breakup with a psychologist I had been dating; we sorted that out right quickly, but spent the next few months, one hour a week, sorting out issues around my lousy relationship with my mother. In the end, she convinced me that resolving that relationship for me was something I had to do it alone because dialogue with my mother was simply going to tighten/worsen that ‘dance of anger and disappointment’ we’d been doing. I took that advice and found peace. Things didn’t get better with her; they became easier. And easier still after she died. So, I’m good with that. But, and there is always a but, I’m facing some issues with my daughters and their relationships with me. I’ve even wondered if they are seeing that counsellor who is giving them similar advice. Whatever their reasons, they are forcing me to resolve my relationships with them myself. That is both frustrating and enlightening – and our relationship continues. As I’m sure, it will for them long after I’m gone.
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There have been times in my life Mark where it felt like I had my therapist on speed-dial. I’d float in and out of therapy like a jetliner flying in and out of storm clouds. Always a destination to get to — not always wanting to go through the storm, I’d try to find d’the easy’ around, only to (once again) discover, there is no way around my inner angst. To resolve it, I must go through it, face it and learn to both understand and love it.
Thank you for your beautiful comment — I am sorry your relationships with your daughters are causing you angst. In my experience, it is the wanting so much for my daughters to be ‘better than’ what I had, that I had to come full circle to resolving, finding peace with, accepting, what I had with my mother and my role in it being either what I wanted, or didn’t want!
Truly a continuous life journey of self-exploration, making amends and accepting we cannot change another person but we can change the relationship when we change how we are in the relationship.
Much gratitude for you.
,
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I’m sorry that your mom is not willing.
If my daughter would talk to me. I would be willing to do anything.
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And I am sorry she is not talking to you dear Nance. I know you would do anything. ❤
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I relate so much to this post. I am the one who wants to talk, and my mom is the “come visit, but don’t talk about the past”.
We have reached a point where we are unable to speak as we both feel “unable” to speak how the other “wants/needs” us to.
It was interesting to read your post. I hope someday to find the peace and understanding you’ve found with it all.
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It was a lifelong journey. Years ago, when I was working with my therapist on my unresolved feelings around my relationship with my mother she told me that all I could do was discover my trtuth and live that — the healing she said may never come in your mother’s lifetime. It may have to wait until she’s gone.
She was right. So much of my healing of that relationship came after she passed. For many of her final years, I kept our interactions superficial and to the minimum. It was the only way I knew to give her what she wanted most – peace.
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Thanks for sharing your experience. It really struck me when you said what she wanted most was peace. I can see that with my mother too, and as the tension in our relationship goes through the years…I do feel my desire for that goes up too.
It brings me hope to see you’ve reached a healing with the relationship. 🌸 🌻
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Thank you. I think one of the most powerful things we can do is to share hope for possibility of healing with another — your words fill my heart with gratitude.
something I did when she was still living, I quietly whispered to myself in my mind at the beginning of every sentence I said to her, “I love you…” and then I’d say whatever it was I wanted to say. It was a powerful reminder for me to be loving — and to let go of my need for her to love me the way I wanted or thought she should. ❤
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This is so real. I totally see myself in my pursuit of truth wanting to resolve every relationship with conversations the way I see them as important. It became less miserable and continually more peaceful when I finally learned to accept their version of reality and truth that is comfortable for them. As always you write with such clarity and I am so happy to be back reading from you.
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Thank you.
Having devoured Harriet Lerner’s books (The Dance of INtimacy; The Dance of Anger) I took to heart the realization that I can’t change the other — I only have power to change me and how I am with them.
I too love to resolve relationships with ‘talking it out’. Sometimes, with my husband, he thinks I’m being pushy, stirring things up, making a fuss about nothing. It takes a great deal of loving kindness and tenderness to bring myself out of the ‘we gotta talk’ space to ‘help me understand’ what’s happening here space where we both feel drawn by courage to move through whatever sticky ground we’re standing on.
Many hugs Pralalbha. ❤
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The Dance of Anger is not new – I’ve bought, read, and given away several copies along the path. Cheers, for Harriet Lerner – she is brillilant.
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Me too Mark — I think I read The Dance of Anger for the first time in my 30s and have kept it close at hand for years. She has a powerful conversation on forgiveness on one of Brene Brown’s podcasts.
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Thank you for shring those books. This has been my major learning too. You exactly put a pin on what happens in my marriage – great deal of loving kindness is forever in cultivation. Much Love Louise.
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