Silence Rings

This past weekend was filled with a great deal of anxiety as I waited for the phone to ring with an Alliance exchange.  Saturday morning, it did.  As I stared at the phone, my first thought was run!  But I took a deep breath and answered it.  The voice was that of a young girls’ and not of an old woman.  I was confused.  Here, my daughter was dog/house sitting in Alliance and called me from their home number.  I was so anxious; I did not even recognize the voice of my own daughter.  She picked up on my confusion, and when I told her what I expected, she laughed.  I am always happy to amuse those around me! 

I opened Pandora ’s Box when I decided to forgive my mother, but I didn’t know it.  All I wanted was peace for the both of us.  It should have been a simple enough thing to achieve, but it is taking considerable work to get there.  I spent the entire weekend in seclusive meditation; I wanted to be prepared for anything.  I needed to protect myself from resorting to old responses to my mother, and respond to her in a way that would bring peace to both of us.  My heart and mind do not have to be in agreement when I make a decision, but it causes all kinds of internal chaos when they are not.  The little girl inside me who wants her mother is throwing a major temper tantrum.  At the same time she wants her mother, she also wants her to pay for all the pain.  The adult in me wishes things could be different, but knows the reality. 

I don’t know why, but when I forgave my father and inadvertently caused him more pain by showing him kindness, I did not feel badly.  I don’t want to be the cause of anyone’s pain, it is not who I am.  When you are in a relationship with anyone at all, there will be pain, it is inevitable.  Often, the cause of pain to the other is unintentional, thus can be forgotten and life goes on.  Somehow, I have taken the blame for causing my mother pain, though I know our relationship could not have been any different than what it was.  It was not my intention to be the source of her pain, just as I did not understand I was the source of my father’s pain.  I was just trying to survive, and to protect my girls.  In order to do that, I could not be a part of my family. I tried to integrate my mother into even the most superficial of a relationship, but I still expected more from her than she was able to give.  Then I had the nerve to be angry with her when my needs were not met!

Here’s the thing.  When we become adults, and our brain has matured (which doesn’t actually happen until around 25 or so) we are the product of our childhood.  Our parents are the single biggest influence in our development.  We are initiated into adulthood by what we have brought with us from our parents.  And we bring with us the good, the bad, and the ugly.  None of us can be held accountable for it, but once we emerge into adulthood, we are responsible for choosing what we do with it.  I emerged deeply damaged and disturbed.  It has taken all of my adult life to change the patterns I learned, and it has not been easy.  Not all patterns can be changed, some are too deep and scars imprison them far out of reach.  I remain deeply flawed in many ways, some of which I have accepted.  The people in my life love me anyway.  The strides I have made to become who I am have been made with a great deal of effort and desire on my part to be peaceful and happy.  Learning is a continuum, the greater knowledge you possess, the more you realize how little you actually know.  Knowledge is fluid.  Although my parents created the adult I became, I chose to become who I am today.  But still, old eight track cassettes hide in my subconscious, ready to play as soon as my past hits the play switch.

Put me back in the right conditions, and I revert back to parts of the person my parents created all over again.  Everything I learned and have put into practice since then goes into temporary storage while the past roars from inside, attacking and defending anyone activating that eight track player.  We have all experienced it at some time.  We can’t seem to control it, and we are so disappointed in ourselves after it happens.  It leaves us feeling confused, because we know better.  Then we wonder if we really made the progress we thought we did.  Our emotional experiences are like the computer hard drive.  We can send things to the recycle bin all we want, but an expert can retrieve those old files in a heartbeat.  Except, there are shredder and rewrite programs for computers to destroy the ability to read old files.  So far, our emotions have not generated a destroy program.  What we have learned on an emotional level is there for life.  It doesn’t matter how hard we have worked to change it or to heal it, our emotional responses have been recorded in the neuronal pathways of our brain.  They lay in wait for the right stimuli to activate them into action.  

I don’t resort to the full Monty, so to speak, but it is difficult to maintain the type of person I am now when interacting with people who know how to start the tapes.  Knowing the full blown temper tantrum my little girl was throwing, and knowing my heart still yearns for a mother I’ll never have, contact with my mother placed my peace, happiness and well-being at risk.  As much I did not want my mother to return my call, I was also hoping she would, to want to have contact with me.  I am torn between the two, but I know either way is what must be.    

Despite her cruelty, my mother did love me as she was able.  I have a baby book she completed through to the end.  I can’t say I completed all three of my children’s baby books!  I have letters from her when she lived in Texas signed love, hugs and kisses.  I am sure she meant it, but I get a laugh out of it.  I can’t remember a single hug or kiss from my mother.  Fat Grandma was the only person in my family who hugged me.  She desperately wanted her children to love her, but no matter how much we did, it was never enough.  When she felt unloved, she responded to us by being mean, cold and distant.  It was her childish way of protecting herself from being hurt.  She never developed emotionally beyond that of a child.  I can see that now, but only because I looked at my own journey. 

When I went to live with my father, she perceived it as not loving her.  She thought as a child I had a choices about things!  Since in her mind we did not love her, she did not call or attempt to make any plans to visit with her.  I had to initiate all visits with her, usually walking or taking the bus across town to spend time with her at home, or meeting her at the bar in the evenings.  I had to prove my love for her until she trusted me again.  I was angry with her for years when she manipulated my feelings and devotion to her by telling me at age 16 she had only months to live.  Now I understand it was a test to see if I really loved her.  She was so empty and damaged inside, being a mother was not about raising children, but it was supposed to fill the need to be loved.  When her children failed at filling that need, she became increasingly hurt and disappointed. 

When she hung up on me, she believed if I loved her, I would call her back and beg for her forgiveness.  I didn’t because at that time, I needed her to be my mother and not a child.  It hurt her deeply I did not respond to her hanging up on me.  I wonder if I should not have been the better person and called her back, but then again, I had enough to deal with.  Sometimes, the order of the world is exactly what it needs to be.  My mother spent all these years alone and without the love of her children because those are the choices she made.  I cannot take the responsibility for any pain this has caused her.  I have always been open to working on having a relationship with my mother, but it had to be a relationship with boundaries.  The only person standing in the way of a relationship has been my mother.  She wants us to fill a deep seated need for love and worth no one can.  As a result, we will always fail her.    

So I waited nervously for the phone to ring, preparing myself for a talk with my mother.  It never came.  I can’t say I am surprised; my mother is deeply hurt and is afraid of being hurt again.  She is protecting herself against the pain I may cause her.  I understand, and do not feel angry with her for it.  If it had been my child, I would have left burn marks in the carpet to get to the phone and return their call, but then again I am an adult.  My mother isn’t capable of understanding children are not meant to be born to fill the emptiness of their parents; parents have a duty to their children.  Though it was not my wish for her to call, I was disappointed when she did not.  The eight track tape sprang to life and immediately played “You are so unimportant to your own mother she didn’t bother to return the call.”  This time, I reached into my soul and ripped the tape out, for what it was playing is not truth, it was the lies my insecurities recorded.  My mother was destroyed by her life.  I will fail to love her as she expects, and again she will be hurt.  I am not to blame for my mother’s heartache.  She made her choices, and is still making them. I wish her well.

As for me, should she ever call, I will deal with it when it happens.  I will hope to be wise enough to be compassionate toward her.  If she never calls, I hope her life is what she needs it to be, and when it is time for her to transition back to Spirit, she leaves this earth in freedom and peace, ready to be loved and welcomed when she arrives.  She deserves it, her life here on earth has been tough enough.