part for the course of being introspective {or Self Obsessed, as some people call it} is wondering why visits to my mum are such a wrench. especially {but not only} when the kids accompany me, it can feel like i've signed up for a bout of flogging... all my triggers are being pulled, and i find myself halfway feeling like sh*t. like a sh*tty person who's horrible to their dearly beloved mum, who's always been there for them and shall probably always be...
when i was growing up, my family of 4 {me, my brother and mum and dad} was 'divided' into two camps - my mum's {consisting of her and my brother} and my dad's {him and i}. camp 1 was practical, loyal, simple-minded {as in not deluded} and provincial; camp 2 had their head in a cloud, were dreamers, had aspirations that didn't fit their milieu and wanted to see the world. or Europe at least... until i got together with my ex, both camps kind of worked okay together. although there were tensions, many of them, and i was feeling increasingly hemmed in by the way my parents wanted me to be {in order for them to be able to deal with me}, it kind of worked...
until it stopped working. due to the insights i gained from being with my ex, it dawned on me that i wanted so much more, and once the kids came along, i {and he} became the parent we had hoped to have had ourselves. probably lacking in other areas, we gave the kids freedom to be themselves, boundaries where needed, structure where needed as well, but mostly the space to fail and learn, and gain confidence in their abilities {such as making their minds up about things & coming to conclusions that might not always make us feel comfortable}. and that appears to have worked, cos i see before me 4 awesome people who all weigh up pros and cons and conclude, and it has made me wince quite a few times, but i hope i never made them feel that i thought they were wrong, or deluded. they live their lives, and i watch them become who they are. and i admire them.
until i go to my mum's with them, or alone, and i'm right back to being the little kid i was once, looked at by her and judged, feeling a need to fit her description of who i ought to be {so that she can feel at ease}, but can't, and in failing to do so, within seconde my hackles go up and i'm fighting an urge to yell at her, to tell her to love me, to like me for who i am, for who i always was....
when my dad passed away, almost 5 years ago now, i lost my only lifelong ally. we always had each other's backs, he was proud of me and i of him. he got me when my mum didn't. camp 1 had each other, my brother likes to be cared for by his mum, and will run to her for every small thing that goes wrong in his life. for me it is the last thing i want to do, and i will always look for admiration for sorting my own stuff out. my ex used to think it was normal to do this and being with him has kind of taught me to not expect praise for it, but deep down, i want someone to tell me i'm doing well... that i'm admirable for being me... for not asking for help, for working stuff out by myself... but the one person i want this from can't...
so i'll have to do it for myself. and learn to accept that this is what it is...
2 comments:
Bij je moeder ben je altijd haar kind en dus val je automatisch in die oude vertrouwde ouderkind rol, zoals het altijd was. Maar ik begrijp heel goed dat dit energie vreet. De enige raad die ik voor je heb, accepteer dat het zo is, dat een bezoek jouw heel veel energie gaat kosten en zorg dat de dag erna een rust dag is, voor jezelf om bij te komen.
💜
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