My husband is a super supportive guy, but he doesn't understand adoption crap. I think my mother's husband is similar. They both kind of stand by the sidelines and let my mother and I duke it out. I was explaining our latest mishap (which was at least partially MY fault...there, I publicly admitted it, mother!!) and he did the kind and supportive maneuvers, after which he said,
"Why don't you guys knock off the bullshit and just be NICE to each other, dammit?"
Hmmmmm. Now THAT's a thought, huh??
Simple but profound.
I mean, it's not like I don't LIKE my mother. Yes, I love her, but I LIKE her too. She is someone I would choose to hang out with on a regular basis regardless of the fact that we are related. She makes me laugh like no one else. There is no one else on the planet that I'd rather get drunk with and converse about everything from Mendelssohn to Mayan ruins.
But we have so.much.damn.baggage.
It's the lethal combination of the baggage and leftover fog remnants (martyr routines, etc.) that get in the way of us having a pseud0-non-dysfunctional relationship. She said to me as we were trying to resolve this last conflict, "Goddammit, it doesn't matter WHAT I say, WHAT I do, it's never quite good enough." That got to me so bad and made me feel so guilty I almost had to hang up on her because she's right. I can't trust her. Hell, I can't trust ANYONE. That fundamental Freudian first stage of life, Trust/Mistrust, was disrupted. There's danger lurking around every corner. Things are good between us? Ha! Surely, I must be smoking crack.
We are working things out. We're able to have quasi-normal conversations again. I'm really looking forward to seeing her next month in Las Vegas (but is Vegas ready for us? Probably not.)
In other good news, my grandma called me today (as in the fuzzy rat's mother). I haven't talked to her in months. We spoke for a long time. She said how much she missed me. That makes me smile a lot, to know that it's not just me that misses her.
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2 comments:
The fuzzy duck has really got it right on this one. So does her husband. Sometimes I think that her husband and mine would love to lock us in a room together and not let us out until we both stop behaving like a couple of crazy people. Actually, I don,t think we are but the situation is. Reunions are sort of like being thrust into a culture where you have no idea what nice behavior is but any violation gets you a slow painful death. I think we are both learning. The fact that we like each other as well as love each other really helps. Her trust issues and my guilt issues just make things hard. We both know what is going on but somehow we can convince ourselves that the other person really doesn,t want or need us in their lives. I,m working on not getting into martyr-mode. She is working on trust. I think it will be harder for her than for me because of the huge broken trust issue with adoption.It helps that she has explained it to me and insisted I read The Primal Wound (one of the best things she has done). I know I can never understand it the way adoptees do but it helps to know it is there. Now if I could just figure out what to do when it rears its ugly head.... The duck has figured out what to do with me when I go into martyr-mode. It involves a verbal two by four telling me to knock it off. What I want to do is rush over to her and just hug her and reassure her. The 2000+ mile differnce in our residences kind of mkes that hard. I really hate the distance. I can't wait for our Las Vegas adventure.
I am glad that my mother called the fuzzy duck. My mother is the original martyr, I know you are busy dear and I don't want to disturb you. The expected response is that you are supposed to feel guilty and call her more frequently. This is not the most useful strategy in this sitution. Since she is 89 years old, I can,t see her changing. She really is a sweet women who is thrilled that the fuzzy duck found us.
It is really great to read stories that vary from my own, but have a lot of similarities.
Thanks for sharing this
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