Thursday, November 12, 2009

Unresolved Issues

You'd figure that by the time I got to sixty, I'd have quit blaming my mother for my problems, right?

Well, sometimes, not so much.

Not that I didn't have a huge share in creating these problems. In the first place, I found my parents to be so oppressive that I moved as far away, and as fast, as I could. I never gave myself a chance to see them as anything other than parental units. I wasn't around to see them as parents of an adult person. Nope. I took off. For some reason, I thought they would forever do their best to stifle me, as they had done, fairly effectively, all my life. So I left.

First, I went to college, but that wasn't far enough. They still expected me to go home on weekends. Mom redecorated my room (pink...the way she always thought it should be). So, I went to Toronto and got a boyfriend. His mother didn't like me, and got me to tell her who my parents were and where they lived. She wrote them a letter, telling them things about me that were untrue, but very frightening to them. Mom showed up, and Boyfriend and I were married in short order. Also, in short order, I was pregnant, so we wound up back "home" in that pink bedroom for a while, until Husband got a job and we moved to Vancouver. We gave the baby up for adoption.

A few years later, with that marriage on the rocks, I went to Texas.

I saw my mother only once after that...six years after I left Canada, my mom and dad made a huge tour of the US and came to stay a couple of weeks with SSS and me in Austin. I was pregnant with Chandra.

Mom had some things to say. She blindsided me with a lot of hurtful things I had said to her and done to her...things I had totally forgotten. Once reminded, all those things came back, and I cringe, even now, at the thoughtless, inconsiderate and downright hateful kid I was in my teens. I am so happy that I had a chance to apologize to her for each and every one of the wounds that she had been picking at for a dozen or so years.

But I didn't have the courage to share my own wounds. Like the singing thing. And so I carry it still...thirty-three years later.

Everyone has issues with their parents, I think. So, after you're grown, take the time to reflect on them, and discuss them. But, don't take too much time. It runs out.


  1. I was a shit to my parents for quite a while; at one point, I hadn't talked to my dad in 8 months.

    I'm glad I had a chance to have an adult relationship with them, even if it was still had its ups and downs.

    I will always remember my cousin Julie (who is much older than me and has a daughter my age) telling me that I was very young to lose both of my parents.

  2. DAM just DAM.. you hit hard sometimes woman! I have a wonderful relationship with my mom,after having some rough times as a teenager, But still have issues with my father, but not because of anything I did. He is pretty pig headed. impossible to really talk to. wasn't always that way, and I have tried,he rebuffs my overtures..but still I try. just not as much as I probably I'm feeling guilty...dam...

  3. Terri, you can only do so much. Sometimes there really isn't any way to resolve the issues. I don't know where the point is that you have to say, "Forget it," because I never tried at all. I've been reading a lady's blog who had to just write her mother off, because her mother could never, ever give her credit for doing anything right. Some people are just toxic, and there is nothing to be done.