Some weeks ago, Britni talked about an exchange she had with her mother when she told her about her rape.
It stirred up some feelings in me about my own mother/daughter relationships and I’ve reproduced my comment mixed in with some of my own observations.
My daughter is in her late teens now and, with all that’s been going on at the house combined with her own hormonal tribulations, she’s had a torrid time.
But the key thing to remember is communication.
It’s tough because she’s at the age where she consistently arguing <em>’Does mother know best?’</em> Or, even, <em>’Does mother know anything at all?’</em>
Despite all our confrontational fireworks, as her mum, I would insist on hugging her – even when she didnt want to be hugged because it wasn’t cool. Sometimes I’d have to pretty much get her in a headlock and stand on her foot to keep her there, but she was going to get that love, no matter what.
Remembering how my mum didn’t do that for me, wasn’t really there for me to talk to about the important stuff, has made it so vital that I didn’t do the same thing with my own daughter.
I wanted her to know that she could tell me anything and it wouldn’t affect my innate love for her. That nothing she could do would change how much I cared about her.
For Britni’s mum to have to hear that something so awful had happened to her child must have been dreadful for her. But she probably already knew that something was up.
It’s the most peculiar thing but, as a mother, you just do know. You cant put your finger on it but there’s something at the back of your mind that ‘just ain’t right’. Your kid is different somehow but won’t tell you what’s happened and you dont want to pry and be pushed away. It’s a really difficult balancing act. But that maternal sixth sense just keeps nagging away at you. So you just keep trying to work it out with a few judiciously worded questions a propos of nothing.
And for Britni to have had the courage to tell her mother is such a major breakthrough in her relationship with her mum but also, I think, in the way that she can now start moving forward to deal mentally with what happened to her.
Because, as the old adage goes, a problem shared is a problem halved. And to be able to share it with your mother, who is the person that you know is looking out for you and trying to protect you, makes the sharing doubly healing.
Although I’ve not suffered the traumatic experience that Britni did, I do know from my own counselling that talking about what happened is the best way to vent the poison that is being repressed inside. It wasn’t your fault but, somehow, you blame yourself and beat yourself up. Telling your Mum is the first step in really getting it out of your system and allowing her to help you.
Because, remember, and I’m crying here because I keep telling this to my own daughter. She’s your Mum and she’s the only person in the world who will love you forever, no matter what. There is nothing that you can do or say that will ever change that.
It’s as integral a part of her as the cell that she gave to make you what you are.
I just wish that I could feel the motivation or acquire the personal permission to share the intimacies and intricacies of my life with my own mother.
I have taken from how I was raised and seeing how other people were raised to develop a relationship with my kids.
My parents wouldn’t talk about anything that would embarrass them so I usually had to figure it out on my own as did many of us.
Actually, I believe they thought we were born with all the answers.
I didn’t trust my parents because every time I said something to them I got a beating or yelled at so I never told them anything.
There’s a pile of other shit I could list here all of which is non productive.
Being the father of two daughters I hate stepped away from traditional father beliefs and have created my own rule book.
I think back to when I was that age and what I did then use that to teach them how they should act in a situation instead of avoiding it.
I’m not stupid, they will do what we did and the only way to guide them is to have a bond of trust between each other so they don’t end up in more trouble than they could handle.
Life is a chess game that we have to learn to play.
My kids know who I am and who I was.
They know they will get a straight answer with no sugar on it if they ask a question.
We talk about sex and their boyfriends.
Tomorrow I’m taking my youngest to the doctors for birth control because I don’t want her to have any accidents until she is ready.
My father would lock her up in the basement until she was 40.
My eldest got hers three months ago.
When it comes to our kids we have to throw away our emotions and rule books.
WE as parents have to fall back and remember what it’s like to be a friend instead of a parent.
I think that’s is one of the things we loose when we grow up.
We should always keep a little Peter Pan in us for the sake of our kids.
To gain the full trust of our kids we have to prove that we deserve it.
I told mine that when they fuck up I will be mad but first we will makes sure the problem is taken care of together.
They tell me practically everything and I mean everything.
The other day my youngest broke off with her boyfriend because all he wanted was sex.
My reaction.
“Good for you”.
It’s the only answer if you want to know what your kids are up to.
Sorry for the long comment
Sounds like you’ve got the whole parental relationship thing sorted. Being their friend is good in some areas, but you need to be able to switch on the disciplinarian too
I have a step-mother, and once her own daughter arrived on the scene, I felt pushed to the background, and never really had that “bond”. My parents divorced when I was little, and out of spite, my dad refused to allow my mother access to me (he got custody), and so it was only when I was 18 that I had contact with my mother again. One small problem, though. She lived abroad, and I was 20 before I got to meet her again. Because of the long gap in our relationship, she has never been what one would call a “proper” mother. I feel like she’s a big sister.
Based on my maternal relationships, I’ve had to make my own rules – and perhaps it’s good that I have a son, and not a daughter… I don’t know how I would cope mothering a daughter. I’m guessing it would be no different from mothering a son! Thankfully he and I have a very close relationship, so I must be doing something right!
My mum left when I was 17 and was so repressed by her relationship with her own mother that she didnt really have a clue. I learned as I went along, hindered by my Husband’s interference. Only time will tell if I’ve got it right but you seem to be very close to your son and he does listen to what you say, so that can only be a good thing x
Wow, I’ve got NOTHIN’ for this one, lol !
LOL :)
First of all, this is a great blog! I only just stumbled on it today, and I love it! This post hit home with me. My father raped me when I was a child, and I was a grown woman before I could get the courage to talk to my mom about it. I honestly don’t know what she was feeling when I told her. She was so quiet. That was several years ago. Now, I’m beginning to publish my writing on the web; it deals with some pretty intense stuff (very dark erotica in the context of BDSM and D/s – that’s one blog, prose exploring aspects of my life and soul – another blog, and one more written like a diary exploring the relationship between dominance and submission and healing from sexual violence). I want so much for my mother to be a part of my life and to share in this with me. She read some of my tamer writing and was interested, but oh my god, I’m so scared for her to see this part of me. Our relationship is so hopelessly complicated and broken from what my father did. I’m lonely for her, sometimes at night just wanted her to hold me again like she did when I was very small. She is blocked by denial, shame, regret…and I am blocked by hurt, abandonment, rejection… Yeah, this has been on my mind a lot lately; thanks for sharing.
Hey Autumn! First of all, thank you for your kind words. But, after that, I am totally out of my depth. Your words move me to tears for your own hurt and trauma and for the sadness you paint because your father destroyed the mother/daughter bond at such a fundamental level. It makes me realise how much more I need to do to restore the balance for my own daughter and I thank you for that. I truly hope that you can find a way to rebuild the bridges and regain a proper interaction with your own mother, although it sounds as if showing her just some of your writing has made huge progress in that direction. I applaud you for your courage and resilience x