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            From the time I can remember, I've been trying to please my
mother.  I mean, to most, it would seem to be a battle to be unconquered.  I
believe all the stupid and unthinkable things I've done in my life have been
to be opposite my mother.  I've tried seeking help for this problem, but it
seems to me that it's just something we try to learn and cope with as well as
we can.  We try as hard as we can, but it never quite comes out the way we
want it to. I always feel like I'm failing my mother.  It seems she's never
proud of me.  Even if she is proud, there is still a dig there for her to
make like she knows how to get to me. As though I'm not permitted to walk
around with too much confidence.  I've wanted my mother's approval all my
life.  I can say what I like to most people, but deep inside I know what I
believe.  I know I want my mom to like something about me, something that
isn't superficial or easy.  (For her not to tear me apart and leave me
there picking up the pieces when she's done.  Like I'm buzzard meat.)  I
love my mother, she is a wonderful person when she wants to be, but she can
tear me down so easily.  I feel like an exposed, animal like, a chicken and,
she, the fox coming to devour me.  It's insane relationship we have with our
mothers.  When we're little girls we want to be them.  When we're teenagers
we want to be away from them.  When we're women we want them to respect us.

            I wish I had the answer as to what goes on between mothers and
daughters, but I don't.  All I know is, there appears to be a stance between
them.  My mother seems to have a hard time letting her girls go.  She says
it's because we won't let her go, but I tend to disagree.  Habits are taught
and learned; we learn everything from those who raise us.  I wasn't raised by
society;  my mother raised me.  I rarely ask for my mother's help, but to
have her tell it, I'm always there with my hand out and my lips poked out.
As if I need my mother's help to survive.  She needs me as much I need her.
My mother and I talk about a lot of things and we disagree on most.  She has
been a mother her whole life, and she doesn't know how to stop.  I can't hate
her for that; it was something that was done to her, by her parents.  But she
is to blame for trying to undermine the confidence that I have tried to
instill in myself.  She has to be sure that I'm not letting her down in being
who I am.  That frightens me.  Sometimes, I feel I can trust my mom but other
times I feel like I need to go away, kicking and screaming, before I confide
something to her.  She uses it against you time and time again.  So, why have
I gone off on a tangent about "mommy"?  Well, because I have to spend a
weekend with her in her new home.

            I've been on a plane now about two hours and will be landing
soon.  I, woefully, regret I told her I would be glad to spend all this time
with her.  The last time I spent the weekend with her we fought about my life
and where it was going.  We also fought about my lack of ambition.  We fought
about the fact that I have a sex life but no steady boyfriend.  My mother and
I have never seen eye to eye on much.  She tried to raise me to be what she
thought I should be.  And even if I were that perfect person, would she be
happy?  Hell, I don't know?!  I always leave her home feeling the same way I
felt every other time before, miserable, lost and confused.  What's a girl to
do?  Grin and bear it?  Stick up for myself?  Tell my mother what I really
think?  I've tried, and look where it's gotten me; on a plane to my mother's
place.

            I've yet to meet any woman who has a good relationship with their
mother.  I wonder about this woman who sitting next to me on this plane ride.
 I wonder if she and her mother get along?  I wonder if her mother is alive?
If she is alive, does she share the same fears that as I do about my own
mother?   From the time I was child, I can remember feeling a twinge of
longing to be more than I am.   When I'm around my mother, I often feel like
she sizing me up to pick me apart.  I still feel like that same sixteen-year-old who doesn't wear her hair or her make-up right.  Her clothes are wrong and so is her walk.  My mother can look at me and drain away every bit of confidence I have achieved.  Is that it was what She's had in store for me all along.  The last time I saw her we argued, because she didn't like my hair and the clothes I was wearing.  Which is typical for my mother and me.  She just started right in on me.

"What have you done to your hair?"  She asked

"I just didn't feel like blow drying it.  You don't like it?"  I responded

"No, the waves and curls are fine, but why do you have to wear it in your
face?"

"Does it matter Mom? You don't have to wear it!"

"Fine if you want to look that way, be my guest!   You look ridiculous!  Your
face is way too fat to wear your hair that way, but you wear it how you like!"

How could I wear my hair like that way?   After a statement like that, I felt
foolish.  Like everyone was watching me and saying, "look at that woman, she
looks like a, like a - I didn't know."  She just said that I looked
ridiculous, not how, just that I looked ridiculous.  Had anyone else said
that to me, I would have never given it a second thought.  Her power over me
was strong and binding and no real way of cutting it loose.  So, of course, I changed my hair before the weekend was out; belittling myself the entire time about it.  But that wasn't the only disagreement we had that weekend.  The next disagreement came later that night.

"I tried calling you last night."  She announced

"You did? When?  I was home after eight."  I replied

"Yes, but some man answered.  He said that you were busy.  He didn't even
bother to ask my name."

"Oh, that was Jake. I asked him to answer the phone while I was in the
shower.  His phone manners leave something to be desired, I'm sorry."

"Why would you have a strange man answer your phone?"

"I just told you!  I was in the shower!  Mom, Jake isn't a stranger.  He's a
friend of mine. I've told you about him."

"Well, if you two were going out, why weren't you ready to go when he got
there?"

"Mom, look, Jake and I had been out already when you called."  I regretted
the statement as soon as I said it.  I only made it to bait her.  I don't know why, but she took the bait.

"So, I guess I called after…after you and this young man had sex?"

"Mom, please!  It's not a big deal.  I'm sorry Jake didn't ask for your name!"

"That's not the issue and you know it!  The issue is you have sex with a man
and he's not your husband or even your boyfriend!  If I remember correctly I
called your place about a week before and a man named Richard was there.  Had
you slept with him as well?"

"You know that's none of your business!  I don't ask about your personal
life!  So I have a few male friends!  That doesn't mean I sleep with them
all!"

"But what do you think people are thinking about you?  How do you think
you're supposed to get a man?  What man wants a woman who's all used up?"

"Mom, do you have to say things like that to me? Do you say these things to
tear me apart!"

"No I say these things to make you think!  Your father and I didn't raise you
to be this way!"

"What way?  Mom, what way?  I like sex is that a crime?"

"No!  That's not crime!  The crime is, you waste your time on these men who
want nothing more from you than a lay in the hay!"

"Did it ever occur to you that I'm not looking for anything more than that? 
Did it ever occur to you that I like my life the way it is?"

"Please!  I don't know a woman who likes their life the way you lead yours. 
You're unhappy, and you know it!"

"Mom, how, would you know if I were unhappy?  You never ask if I'm unhappy,
you always just assume!  The only time I seem to be unhappy is when I'm here!"

"There you go blaming your unhappy life on me!  It's not my fault that you live your life like a slut!  You can give me that look if you want, but you knew it was coming.  You put your business in the street and you're bound to have someone say something to you!"

            Needless to say, I never got another word in edgewise.  My mother's word was law.  She knew all.  And by now I was crying, trying really hard not to.  She had won, like that.  Most people would never believe that there own mother would say words like that to them.  But with my mom, that is the way it was.  She says it straight out.  There are no candy colors and sugar coating, she said what she wanted, the way she wanted, to her children.  After that visit, I couldn't have sex for almost two months.  Needless to say, Jake and Richard were still my friends, and never pushed the subject, but there were others who did.  I don't profess to be the Virgin Mary, but I'm no town slut either.  She didn't care for Richard or Jake.  It's completely different reasoning for both men.  Richard is too old for me; me being twenty-eight and Richard being forty.  He's a well-established businessman who's been divorced for almost seven years.  Jake is into the fast life; fast cars, fast women, and such.  Jake is six years younger than I
am.

            They both excite me; Mom doesn't have to understand that, and I don't feel the need to explain it to her.  I've gone over and over this with her, in my mind, and I still have no answers.  I suppose, when I have my own children, I will understand my mother and her reasons, but I doubt that I will come to an epiphany, here, on this aircraft.  Life isn't that neat and tidy.  If it were, I wouldn't be wringing my hands about it now.  I believe this weekend with my Mom will be the same as all the others.  I give myself "The pep talk" ,and still leave her home with the same emotions.  I often feel that she thinks the same; that we have to do this.  We have to be who we are.  Me, the daughter, who always falls short of what she expects, and her, the mother, who has to let me know that I do.  I suppose it is kind of neat and tidy, in a very un-neat and tidy way.  As I look out the window, I hear the "ding" of the fasten seat belt sign come on, and I realize we will be landing soon.  There is a terror that I feel in the very pit of my stomach. 
I feel it beginning to seep into my other body parts.  There is almost a serenity it that seeping emotion.  I feel I can handle it better when that feeling is full over my body.  Unfortunately, when you're dealing with someone who's very glance can penetrate your very soul, whose words can cut you to the core of your very being.

            A therapist I used to see would often tell me that I gave my mother too much power in my life.  And my question to him would always be, "How can you say that?  Of course she has too much power in my life, she's been a permanent fixture in my life since I was born!  I could try to cut her out, but, honestly doctor, what would that accomplish?"

"I don't mean you have to cut her out of your life.  But you have to deal with her in a different fashion.  When she begins to belittle you and make you feel like a child, let her know she's doing that.  Also, let her know how it makes you feel when she does it."

"Are you serious?  Have you been listening to me?  I've tried all of that, she doesn't care.  When you're dealing with someone who feels that telling you these things is helping you; you don't have a right answer, trust me doc!"

"Sure, you do.  When they don't respect what you're saying, then you leave or you ask them to leave.

"Easier said, than done Doc!  This is my mother!  I can't throw her out!  Oh boy, I could really see that!  Hey Mom, if you don't respect what I'm saying, you have to leave!  Fat chance, Doc!"

"You've got to start somewhere.  You have to deal with her on a more adult level.  Right now, you're telling me, when you two disagree, you allow your mother to scold you as if you're, a ten year-old.  What sense does that make?  You have to deal with her or you will always have these feelings towards her.  You can change the nature of the relationship, if you try."

"Well, that sounds good in theory.  I've tried all the above.  Nothing seems to work.  I love and respect my mother.  All I want is for her to treat me like an adult.  I want her to understand that what I feel is important is worth listening to.  As if I have an idea of what is good for me.  I can make decisions for myself.  She's not the only one who can make good choices for my life."

"And, you never will if you continue to play your mother's games.  You've got to do this, not just for you, but for your mother too.  She has to understand that you're a woman now.  You have your own life and your feelings about things."

"Doc, intellectually, I know you're right, but emotionally, I don't know.  I sometimes feel I should be that little girl she remembers."

"Well, you're just as lost as she is.  You've asked me to help you with this problem, and I've given you a viable start.  I don't know how to get you to see that if you do this, you will start to free yourself from her hold."  Doc said

            I knew he was right.  He made sense.  And believe it or not, I really tried to do what he suggested.  The stewardess just passed by to make sure all the passengers are buckled in their seat belts.  I started grabbing for mine.  As the ends clicked, I felt the plane begin to descend downward.  The captain began his last speech;  thanking all the passengers for flying the airline and saying we would be landing in about ten minutes.  The lights came on and I could hear other patrons gathering their belongings. I didn't want to move.  I wanted to be the last person off the plane.  Mom wouldn't be at the airport, she had to work late.  I would take a cab to her place, and let myself in, where Mrs. Benson, her housekeeper would be waiting with dinner ready.  My plane lands at six o'clock.  Mom wouldn't be home until eight.  I hadn't devised a plan as to how to deal with Mom, I guess I would handle her as I always had; I'd play it by ear, and hopefully it would be one of those weekends that we actually got along.  As I left the plane, soon be at my mother's home.  I began to think of what my therapist, told me;  how we seem to go around and around.

"I understand that it will be scary, for you, to be honest with your mother, but you have an inner strength, that you're not even aware of.  It luminates from you.  People feel it.  You can do this."

"I don't feel very strong, Doc, especially around my mother.  I don't want to be one of those people who blame all their life's problems on their parents, not assuming responsibility for anything."

"But you're not blaming your mother for all your problems, you're asking how to begin repairing that particular relationship."  He said

"Ah, but Doc, wouldn't that relationship affect other relationships and how I deal with them?"

"Yes, it would, but I haven't heard you say that you blame your mother for your life and the state it's in.  Not that it's in such a bad state, you just seem to handle other relationships differently than the one you have with your mother."

"I suppose Doc, no one makes crazy the way she does.  She just gets to me, no
matter how I approach our relationship."

            As I begin to undo my seat belt, l realize that almost all the passengers had cleared the plane.  I may  be a woman, but I was able to pack only one bag that I could carry on.  I had all my essentials.  When I stood up my legs were wobbly at first.  They began to wake up and I pulled my bag out of the over head compartment.  I thanked the stewardesses for all their kindness through out the entire flight, and began my walk to the terminal, I kept passing passengers who had to walk to the luggage pick up area.  I walked slowly, with no real purpose. A walk that should've taken six-minutes, took about twelve-minutes.  When I made it to the front of the airport, I grabbed one of cabs waiting at the door.  I threw my bag in the back seat and got in, and told the driver, 1602 Mulberry Lane Circle.  He turned to me and smiled, sweetly, and said "yes ma'am."  He pulled the meter and we left.

            As we approached the freeway, there was a traffic jam.  He looked back with a face as to say sorry.

"It's not your fault.  I'll get where I'm going soon enough."

"Thank you, ma'am.  So what brings you to our fair city."

"Just visiting family for the weekend."  I answered

"Well, besides this traffic jam, this weekend promises to be good one.  The weather should be wonderful. "

"Well, I hope so.  I could use some warm weather this weekend."

Sheila B Goram  Contact: Parker074@aol.com 
Copyright 2000  Sheila B Goram.
Reviews and comments requested
Posted 9/17/2000