‘The contact died more then i broke it… After our last meeting, I stopped contacting her. I also stopped responding to her emails and texts. That sounds harsh, but I felt so much resistance. I couldn’t bear it anymore. Over time she stopped reaching out. It’s been quiet between us since then.
The last time I saw her was at her home in France. She has lived there with her new husband for ten years. She invited me and the children for Christmas and New Year. We had little contact at that time and I appreciated the invitation. Somehow I kept thinking: maybe things will get better. Maybe it will be goood this time? But that wasn’t the case. As always, she had a lot of criticism. On my body (shouldn’t you lose a few kilos?), on my hair (this hairstyle really doesn’t suit you), on the fact that I wasn’t in a relationship (you scare all men away) and on how I dealt with my children (you have to be much stricter, you spoil them too much).
I have always found her criticism of my motherhood in particular very difficult and painful. Ever since my children were born, she has been telling me I do everything wrong. I breastfed for too long, too little structure, bedtime too late, too much childcare… I was still young and tried to find my own way. All that criticism made me very sad and insecure. I remember one time I was on the train with my children – they were three and five at the time – and a nice lady my mother’s age was sitting opposite us. I read to the children and we played a game ‘I see I see what you don’t see’. When she got off, the lady grabbed my arm and said she thought I was such a sweet mother. That compliment went straight to my heart! My mother had never said anything like that to me. It brought tears to my eyes. It was as if the universe let me know: you are a good mother!
I’ve been insecure all my life. I’ve always doubted myself. Perhaps it is also in my character, but my mother’s attitude and comments did not help. As long as I remember, she was critical of everything I did. If I got a B, she asked why it wasn’t an A. If I ate something sweet, I was a pig. She always had something to say about my friends and when someone complimented me, she said they probably wanted something from me. My friends jokingly called my mother “Snow White’s evil stepmother.” At the time i didnt quite get it, but looking back i can see why.
My self-confidence has grown in recent years through positive feedback from friends, various therapies, healing sessions and personal growth workshops. I have a successful business and a loving relationship with my children. Of course I’m not perfect and my children will probably have things to say about me when they grow up, but overall I think ‘m not that bad. I now know that I don’t deserve all that criticism from my mother. The last time I was with her, I felt it very strongly. I didn’t want her to treat me like that anymore. Our relationship was negative and toxic, being with her brings me down. Why should I still invest in the relationship? When we said goodbye at the airport, I could hardly hug her, I felt such resentment and even disgust. Once home I didn’t call her again and she didn’t call me either. She emailed me a few more times to let me know how she is doing. My mother mainly talks about herself. She rarely inquires about me. I couldn ‘t bring myself too respond.
A few months ago she sent my brother a long email. He also has little contact with her, but more than I do. In that email she said that she was very sad about how we treated her and that she did not understand why her children are so cruel and treat het so bad. She had always done her best and had always been there for us… I understand that this is how she sees it. My mother bends all situations and memories towards herself. In her stories she is always the center: the nicest, the best, the saddest, and so on. In her ‘story’ she was a good mother to us who did everything for her children. I think she actually believes this to be true. But my experience of that ‘story’ was very different.
My mother was a beautiful, striking and charismatic woman. She was a classical and jazz singer. At parties and birthdays, and even on the schoolyard, she was always the center of attention. She releished in it. She talked to everyone, told anecdotes and often just burst into song. Whenever I went to lunch with my mother, she was constantly talking to the people at the tables next to us. She just jumped in to any conversation and started telling a story. I always felt awkward and embarassed being out with my mother. She always had such a dominant presence. I found it annoying too, because why did she need that attention from strangers? Why didn’t she talk to me? Why did she never ask: how are you? What did you do today? She never showed that kind of interest in me. In my twenties I traveled through Asia and South America. My mother never asked about my travel-adventures. When I came home, all she said was that I had a nice tan, then she started talking about herself.
For a long time I tried to accept my mother the way she is. I’ve tried all kinds of strategies. I tried just telling her about my life. Even if she didn’t ask, I would just tell her anyway. But time and time again she responded with a story about herself. When I told her that I had been to Machu Picchu and how cool and special it was, she responded with a story about her experience on Table Mountain in South Africa and how super special that was… It was like a competition. Her story always had to be better than mine.
I have also tried to see her as insecure and that being the reason why she needs so much attention and confirmation. I do think that always wanting to be the center of attention and being told that you are great comes from a deep sense of insecurity. But I couldn’t maintain that strategy for long either. I keot hoping for her attention and interest in me. The way I feel for my children. I am curious about their stories and would like to know what they think about things and how they experience things. Since becoming a mother, I find it even more difficult to accept how my mother is and how superficial our relationship is. But it is what it is. She is who she is. I feel better when I’m away from her. In the meantime, I try to accept my childhood and the difficult feelings I had and have for my mother.
My mother divorced my father when we were very young. She took care of me and my brother by herself. I never knew my father and according to my mother he was ‘an asshole who is of no use to you’. There were always lots of men coming over, but I don’t remember one specific or long-term friend. It wasn’t until we moved out that she remarried. I don’t know him very well, but from what I’ve seen, he’s a good man and he does everything for my mother. Somehow she always surrounds herself with people who look up to her. She orders them around and they accept it. My brother and I used to do exactly that. Shopping, vacuuming, making the beds, ironing the laundry, cleaning the windows… Children helping out with the housework is normal, but in our case it was like slavery. We were put to work all weekend. As a child I hated it, but I didn’t know any better. Only now that I am a mother myself I see how extreme it was.
In our family everything revolved around my mother. She was the diva, the queen. I recently read an article about narcissism, and although I am not a psychologist and cannot diagnose it, I recognized a lot in the description of the narcissistic mother. My mother always wants to be the nicest, best, most original and most beautiful. Or the biggest victim. As long as the attention was on her, she was fine. If she thought my brother and I were talking too long during dinner, she would bang her hand on the table very hard and demand attention. Then she literally said: what are you thinking, ignoring me! You owe everything to me and I want you to listen to my story now!
The last time I was with her in France, she also shouted something like that to my son when he enthusiastically talked about the zoo we had been to. “Shut up,” she shouted, “I’m talking!” Suddenly all the memories from the past came flooding back. How she acted towards us at the table, and how uncomfortable I always felt around her. I put those memories away for a long time. I was ashamed of the atmosphere in our home. When I visited friends, the mothers were very different. They were sweet and asked how school had been and if we wanted a cup of tea. My mother never asked such things. I don’t even remember her ever hugging me.
I do remember that she could be very mean. She often said that I was ugly, fat and stupid and that she was ashamed of me. She also grounded us all the time, and in the evening she would sent us to our rooms. She wanted to watch television in peace. My brother and i spend most evenings alone in our room. According to my brother, she was more unkind to me than to him. He thinks she saw me as a rival. Rationally I understand that, but at the time – as an insecure teenager – I felt terrible. I believed her and thought I was ugly and fat and shamefull. I still find it difficult to look at myself with love.
To say the least, my relationship with my mother has always been complicated. She was my mother and I was supposed to love her, but on reality I just wanted to stay as far away from her as possible. I didn’t like her, but I still wanted her approval. I struggled with that ambiguity for years. I have experienced the same struggle in relationships with men. Time and again I chose men who – like my mother – criticized me and put me down. In therapy I came to realize that I was repeating this pattern from my childhood. An unhealthy pattern, which feels familiar to me because I grew up with it.
Ever since I became aware of this, I have been trying to break free from it. I want to love myself the way I am. And if I get into a relationship again, I want him to love me just the way I am. I practice complimenting myself every day. I stand in front of the mirror and say out loud that my hair looks nice, or that the lipstick suits me. Just little compliments to boost myself. It may sound strange, but it really helps. It gives me a positive feeling about myself: I’m okay the way I am, I’m enough. I’ve never known that feeling.
I am now halfway through my life. It feels like a turning point. I want the second half to be different. I want a positive relationship with myself. I don’t want to be so unsure about myself and everything I do. I don’t know if I’ll ever see my mother again. I prefer to leave that open. I now focus on my relationship with myself. There is no longer any room for negativity and criticism. I distanced myself from my mother, out of love for myself.’
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