I’ve been having bouts of intense pain over my mother recently. A phrase I often have to repeat in my head, as my childhood default setting of “this must be my fault. I can fix it.” tries to return me to old insanity, is this: “The problem was never that you didn’t love your mother. The problem was that she didn’t, and probably couldn’t, love *you*.” I was hopelessly devoted to my mother. I adored her. And all those things about her that I loved, I still love. I get to keep all of that. It’s mine.
That's poignant and evocative: empathy, nostalgia, similar memories. Every parent has a choice, so why do some of them choose to hurt their helpless children?
One of your best posts, imo. The flashbacks and flash forwards -- intercut with Heart’s lyrics -- are vivid with emotion, detail and insight. No solutions but a beautiful assemblage crafted with honest care
For years, I lobbied for my mother’s affection. I don’t know that she was Cluster B but certainly she was not a loving mother. I asked her about it once, and all she could say was that I should be glad I wasn’t brought up like she was. They were hard nosed Germans, my maternal grandfather and great grandfather. The grandfather, and alcoholic who sobered up in his late 40’s and died at 52. He never exhibited any affection to us, either, so she probably had a point. Your posts, Josh, have done so much to help me understand why I am the way I am. I loved the walk down memory lane with Heart and the posts with Karen Carpenter. I have one of her 33 1/3 albums. It is one of my treasures. Thank you for all your wisdom and reflection.
Similar story for me. And I understand the abuses she and her family suffered but when they were adults having babies that history did not give them a free pass to perpetuate abuses and trauma on the next gen. Her branch of the family ran away from the rest of the siblings and their families, closed ranks and became completely Non- functioning. The others I met for the first time as an adult in my 50s. They remained in the original town faced the issues and functioned as families to find ways to heal and not just act out on their children. Big difference.
I can't speak about your Mom and your relationship with her, Josh, but I can so relate to the love you are talking about, and it's a fundamentally good impulse, and good to recognize, even if it causes you pain. Unrequited love, I have found, can happen in many, many ways. Do not despair of it. It makes you whole and human in ways perhaps your mother could not be and couldn't express. I have so struggled with things my mother couldn't or wouldn't give. But none of us, I know, maybe especially me, is perfect.
In ways she shattered my life and hopes. But then in her later life my very brilliant oh-so-sharp mother had dementia progressing to Alzheimer's. My favored sibling brothers weren't going to help her live as she wanted to, staying in her home. I took on the task of trying to give that to her. Because, you see, when someone is infirm and unable, it's just not the same struggle anymore. I was able to give Mom the love I wanted to, and I discovered what seemed to me the little seven year old girl she was once, possibly mischievous, but one I loved as if she were my child. As the layers peeled away, and she couldn't keep up her facade of adulthood, I discovered a child, a person I could talk to and care for, and she was happy with her caregivers and staying in her home.
Are there ways in which I still grieve the things she did? Yes. But I do not regret the good that came out of being able to love as my deep child's heart wanted, as yours does.
Again I'll tell you my faith really helped, because that's the truth. It also helps with healing what I know is a deep wound. May you find the same. Thank you for your honesty, and may God's love help you also because it's bigger than our wounds. Wishing you the best as always
As often happens, when you write so beautifully, so clearly about the sorrow in your heart, my own grows heavy and a lump forms in my throat, for you, for me, for all of us who have experienced unrequited love. If you have a heart, you can't escape it. Most of us know the feeling.
Beautifully written. I was blessed to be raised in a healthy family, and did my best to provide the same for my four. I'm going to the funeral this Saturday of the mother of a good friend; I go for my friend, not her mother. I'm so worried about my friend; it's been my experience that when a good parent dies, the children are able to move on in a healthy way. OTOH, those raised by a horrible parent struggle mightily when that parent dies. For the fantasy of a "good" mother dies as well. The hope that some day, their parent will love them, dies.
I’ve been having bouts of intense pain over my mother recently. A phrase I often have to repeat in my head, as my childhood default setting of “this must be my fault. I can fix it.” tries to return me to old insanity, is this: “The problem was never that you didn’t love your mother. The problem was that she didn’t, and probably couldn’t, love *you*.” I was hopelessly devoted to my mother. I adored her. And all those things about her that I loved, I still love. I get to keep all of that. It’s mine.
This was beautifully written and made me cry. Thank you for sharing this.
That's poignant and evocative: empathy, nostalgia, similar memories. Every parent has a choice, so why do some of them choose to hurt their helpless children?
Love? What's love got to do with it? 😉
https://youtu.be/oGpFcHTxjZs
One of your best posts, imo. The flashbacks and flash forwards -- intercut with Heart’s lyrics -- are vivid with emotion, detail and insight. No solutions but a beautiful assemblage crafted with honest care
Wow. That is moving.
I was tripping in and out of my own childhood while reading. Evocative.
My heart is broken again for you, Josh, as it has been so many times reading your stories. There is nothing to say but "it's true and I see it."
There is nothing to say. But thank you for seeing it.
For years, I lobbied for my mother’s affection. I don’t know that she was Cluster B but certainly she was not a loving mother. I asked her about it once, and all she could say was that I should be glad I wasn’t brought up like she was. They were hard nosed Germans, my maternal grandfather and great grandfather. The grandfather, and alcoholic who sobered up in his late 40’s and died at 52. He never exhibited any affection to us, either, so she probably had a point. Your posts, Josh, have done so much to help me understand why I am the way I am. I loved the walk down memory lane with Heart and the posts with Karen Carpenter. I have one of her 33 1/3 albums. It is one of my treasures. Thank you for all your wisdom and reflection.
Similar story for me. And I understand the abuses she and her family suffered but when they were adults having babies that history did not give them a free pass to perpetuate abuses and trauma on the next gen. Her branch of the family ran away from the rest of the siblings and their families, closed ranks and became completely Non- functioning. The others I met for the first time as an adult in my 50s. They remained in the original town faced the issues and functioned as families to find ways to heal and not just act out on their children. Big difference.
I can't speak about your Mom and your relationship with her, Josh, but I can so relate to the love you are talking about, and it's a fundamentally good impulse, and good to recognize, even if it causes you pain. Unrequited love, I have found, can happen in many, many ways. Do not despair of it. It makes you whole and human in ways perhaps your mother could not be and couldn't express. I have so struggled with things my mother couldn't or wouldn't give. But none of us, I know, maybe especially me, is perfect.
In ways she shattered my life and hopes. But then in her later life my very brilliant oh-so-sharp mother had dementia progressing to Alzheimer's. My favored sibling brothers weren't going to help her live as she wanted to, staying in her home. I took on the task of trying to give that to her. Because, you see, when someone is infirm and unable, it's just not the same struggle anymore. I was able to give Mom the love I wanted to, and I discovered what seemed to me the little seven year old girl she was once, possibly mischievous, but one I loved as if she were my child. As the layers peeled away, and she couldn't keep up her facade of adulthood, I discovered a child, a person I could talk to and care for, and she was happy with her caregivers and staying in her home.
Are there ways in which I still grieve the things she did? Yes. But I do not regret the good that came out of being able to love as my deep child's heart wanted, as yours does.
Again I'll tell you my faith really helped, because that's the truth. It also helps with healing what I know is a deep wound. May you find the same. Thank you for your honesty, and may God's love help you also because it's bigger than our wounds. Wishing you the best as always
And when our parent is gone, what we mourn for is often the parent we never had
This brought tears to my eyes. The only thing we all really want is for our parents to love us. When that relationship goes sour it’s crushing.
Heartbreaking and heart filling at once Josh. Thank you for this.
Thanks for sharing your journey with us Josh.
As often happens, when you write so beautifully, so clearly about the sorrow in your heart, my own grows heavy and a lump forms in my throat, for you, for me, for all of us who have experienced unrequited love. If you have a heart, you can't escape it. Most of us know the feeling.
Beautifully written. I was blessed to be raised in a healthy family, and did my best to provide the same for my four. I'm going to the funeral this Saturday of the mother of a good friend; I go for my friend, not her mother. I'm so worried about my friend; it's been my experience that when a good parent dies, the children are able to move on in a healthy way. OTOH, those raised by a horrible parent struggle mightily when that parent dies. For the fantasy of a "good" mother dies as well. The hope that some day, their parent will love them, dies.
You write so well…thank you for sharing your innermost self with us.