In which I whine about my mother.

[bubosquared]

I find myself wanting to Talk to my mother. Not just talk, but Talk. Sit down at the kitchen table with mugs of coffee and talk about my life, and Molly, and the whole tangled web of friendships and relationships, about contentment, about the last time I went 'clubbing' and how the music was good, about this cool mesh shirt I found for 200 francs ($5), about my plans for the puppie concert, about how I'm looking forward to December, to seeing Molly, to seeing Tri, about how she's my best friend and in many ways my favourite person, bitch a little about the hardship of having nearly all your friends and close accquaintences live six timezones away, and other life stuff like that.

But when I try to picture this as more than a daydream, it just doesn't compute. My mother and I don't Talk. Fact of life. My dad and I? Sure, we Talk. Over lunch, and maybe it's not a real Talk, but it's more than a talk, and he's up on what's going on in my life. I can't do that with my mother. And I don't really know why.

Actually, I do know why. It's because I'm twenty now, and grown/growing up, and when you're grown up that means your parents aren't automatically gonna be close to you, you'be to work on maintaining a good relatioship with them, and if I worked on it, I could become friends with my mother.

Except. I don't think I really want to. I don't think my mother is the sort of person I could/want to be friends with. I don't think we can connect. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's the complete difference in our basic needs and dreams; she's always wanted kids and a job she liked, while I want a job I don't hate that pays enough to get me all the toys I want, I don't want kids, and I think writing is more important (to me) than most everything else in my life. But I have that difference with my dad, too, and we connect. I don't know. Maybe it's knowing that at 16, she was a writer, and now she's not anymore, and the fear I'll end up like that.

I do know what the last straw was, though. What made me realise we're never gonna have that ideal mother-daughter relationship. Her attitude towards my lesbianism. Conversation:

Me: "Bla bla bla and I just don't like men like that."
Mother: (immediately) "You can't be sure of that."

And I know she's probably got a point, and it's not like she's condemning me or anything, and I'm sure she does actually accept that I'm gay, it's just that she says things like that and then doesn't understand why I'm hurt, says I'm overreacting when I tell her that things like that make me feel like she's denying my sexual/romantic orientation.

For fuck's sake, I talked more and easier about my dykeness with Nat's mom than with my own. And sure, that was partly the fact that she's a relative stranger, but also and mostly the fact that she accepted that I'm gay the way she accepted that I'm Belgian: as a simple fact. I say I'm gay, therefore I am gay. No second-guessing, no questioning my motives or reasons. Just acceptance.

And that's what I really want from my mother, and that's what I don't think I'll ever get. My mother is good at critique. My clothes, my body, my lovers, my life, everything about me she's criticised. And no matter how self-assured I am, no matter how self-confident, every time she says something negative about me, it stings. And no matter how much I try not to, it still affects me.

Family. Fucks you up for life.

Comments

Re: *hugs*

[bubosquared.livejournal.com]

I know. I just wish she could if not understand then at least accept that I'm happy like this, that I don't want some diploma, that I'm happy with my girlfriend and without kids, that writing is more important to me than a lot of other things, that I like my body no matter how much she thinks I need to lose weight, ...

I'm happy. Isn't that what mothers are supposed to want tofr their kids? :/

Re: *hugs*

[sandrine]

Sure it is. The problem is - they don't really believe you're happy because their idea of happiness is different. And then, of course, there's the oh-so-wonderful argument "but how do you know that you wouldn't be happier otherwise - you haven't even tried that". Well, of course we haven't. After all, when we have a house, a husband and 2.4 kids it's a little hard to say, "Hey, but I liked my earlier lifestyle better", is it? *shaking head* Mothers!

Re: *hugs*

[bubosquared.livejournal.com]

See, that's exactly it. I tell my mum I don't want kids. She says I'll change my mind. That may be so, but dammit, that doesn't mean my opinion is of less value than that of a girl my age saying she wants three kids.

When I was 15-16, I was still thinking I'd have kids. Lots of kids. Not once did my mum say I'd change my mind about that!

And like you said, if, at 30-40, I suddenly realise I did want kids, that's sad, but I'll be the one having to live with that. If I have kids and then change my mind at 30-40, they'll be the ones suffering.

And I know she'll live with me not having kids, and it's not that she's really insulting about it, but it's the fact that she doesn't understand that sh's hurting me, even though I've told her that she is.

Re: *hugs*

[sandrine]

It's actually scary how familair all that sounds. I love her and therefore I want her to understand me. And the fact that she doesn't hurts.

I get those "you're only 20 - you'll change your mind" arguments so frequently that I would have a little fortune if I had gotten a cent for everytime I heard them. Well, so maybe I'll change my mind. It's unlikely, but I'm not ruling it out. But I also might not change it, and I believe she should accept whatever my decision is and be happy for me. Frustrating, isn't it?

Re: *hugs*

[bubosquared.livejournal.com]

Very. Sigh. Thanks for the comiseration, hon. It's muy appreciated.

Re: *hugs*

[sandrine]

No problem, hon. That's what I'm here for. :)