I have always been a very independant person. I never went to study groups, never asked anyone to edit my work. And for the most part I have graduated every year with honours doing it on my own. My mother on the other hand, thinks I am too private, saying not asking for help and opening up to other people is unhealthy. Typical mother approach trying to make her son feel guilty. So to make me mum feel better about my academic success, I let her view my english paper in hopes she would possibly catch a mistake that I missed, but mostly just so she would shut up about me never asking for help. Jesus Christ, it was like giving the paper to the bloody Picasso of English papers. She tore that thing apart like she has a PhD in English literature. The best part about it all? When I got it back from my prof, I recieved a 90. Instead of showing my mother I kept it quiet until she asked me a few weeks later to which I told her my mark. Her response? "School is easier then when I went I guess." We both know where the guns are kept. Focus: Mother issues? Fuck all the nurture shit, I'm talking about that every day shit that makes you ignore the phone as soon as you see who's calling.
I am inclined to agree with your mother. But FOCUS: Mom issues. My mom and I have always gotten along pretty well, but it became a much healthier relationship for me when I finally realized that constantly trying to save her from herself was just enabling. This was good for me, but probably bad for her as her behavior didn't change much. Perhaps she will hit bottom at some point and make some positive changes in her life. I will certainly be fully supportive when/if that happens. We shall see.
I did not realize how miserable my parents made me until I moved out on my own at 17. Now I do my best to be a good son but I don't really regret if I go weeks without talking to my parents. It's weird for me now because, except for infrequent hints at what she used to do to me, there's really no indication that my mom was the kind of person that could have made me so unhappy. (Details are unimportant except to say that child abuse was involved from both parents.) But I've still internalized this feeling of defensiveness and steeling myself off from the world when I talk to her that I have trouble relaxing even for the little things. My girlfriend was with me the last time I visited my parents and she made comments about how they seemed so happy to see me, which kind of shook me because I had been totally unable to see it until she pointed it out to me. So I guess to bring this all back to the Focus, I guess all the "nurture shit" has made me totally overlook the small interactions that make for a normal relationship. This sucks and I'm still trying to decide if I'm justified in feeling bitter or if I need to stop being so whiny and let it go, still have not decided.
My mother always had a problem with my weight when I was in high school. She offered me $100 to loose 10 pounds, which I attempted until I started crying over a salad one night and she offered to buy me a puppy. I still haven't seen that puppy.
Trying to explain basic computing skills to my mom . . . She cannot see the forest for the trees, and wants to right every step down for simple tasks. One time I was trying to get her to click on "print preview" for something. She couldn't find the menu at the top of the screen. I said, "do you see where it says 'File, Edit, View, etc at the top of the screen?" She says, "No, I don't see that." "What's at the top of your screen?" "A wide blue line." "What's below that?" "It says 'File, Edit, View-" "MOM!!" This is also typical: - Ring, ring, ring - Me: "Hey Mom." Her: "Hey R-o-M, it's Mom." Me: "Yes, I know. That's why I said, 'hey Mom.' What's up?" Her: "I keep getting this message on my computer." Me: "What does it say?" Her: "Something about installing something." Me: "What happens when you click on the 'x' to close it?" Her: "I haven't tried that." Me: "Okay, do that now." Her: "Oh. Well, I'm in the kitchen right now." Me: "Can you go to the computer?" Her: "It's not on right now." Me: . . .
I have a good relationship with my mother except for one important detail, she wants to talk every other day, I want to talk once or twice a month. I constantly ignore my phone when her number pops up, unless I'm super bored or in the car. Oh, and one thing that will always stick out in my head as an example of horrible parenting: I asked to do karate when I was seven and my mom said she didn't want to waste the money because I was a quitter. You better pray you die before it's time to pick your retirement home, bitch.
You know how some people say they're their worst critic? I can't. My worst critic has always been my mom. If I call her with good news, she turns it into something negative. If I show up to a family event in a new dress, she tells me that the color washes me out and I don't look my best. I've come a long way in letting it go in one ear and out the other. I mentioned this on the other board, but when I was a teen my mom made me try on her clothes from when she was in high school. This was disastrous for several reasons: 1. We have completely different body types. I'm 5'6 and long/lean. People are always surprised to hear my height and say they thought I was at least 2 inches taller. My mom, on a good day, is 5'2 with a gymnast/cheerleader body type: curvy, thicker, not long/lean. 2. Surprise! Nothing fit how it was supposed to fit. This is upsetting to a 13-14 year old girl. 3. My mom would then point out how I wasn't filling things out, etc, etc, and laugh/make fun of me. No wonder I was the most insecure girl ever when I was young.
Nine posts in and only two people have a bizarre relationship with their mother? It's like I don't even know who you are anymore, TiB. Anyway; I never had any mother issues. She knows I'm not one to talk, so she just calls my sister. She also never had any urge to control my life in even the slightest way. She's also about as subtle as a barbed-wired brick; When I was twenty and everything in my life starting going to shit, I went home for a couple of days. I just felt numb the entire time and walked around like a zombie, to which my mother inquired: "Are you on fucking drugs or something?". No mom, this is just my sad-face. Thanks for the sympathy.
I haven't spoken to my mother in almost four years and the silence is GLORIOUS. This might be an interesting poll, how many people have strained relationships with their family. We are Bieber fans for a reason...
My mom is the sweetest little lady ever...but kind of in a bad way. The problem is she has been a homemaker for the vast majority of her life so she basically lives through me and my 2 sisters. Her entire life revolves around the family. Her only real friends are her 4 sisters which is really kind of sad. When I moved out it was pretty tough on her but my older and younger sisters live at home so everything is cool. I am very afraid to see what will happen when my older sister moves out or gets married or something...it will be devastating for her. She has a bachelors degree in nutrition but she never went to work after she got the degree so now it is worthless. A while back she did a program to become a Montessori teacher but then became pregnant with my little sister so she quit. Then she used my little sister as an excuse to not go back to work even though she is 14 now. Recently we have all been pressuring her to get back to work just so she can have a social life that isn't based on family. I love her to death and have gotten much better at talking to her as I realized that all she really wants to talk about is how my life is going and the daily things that no one should care about, but the woman really needs to get a job and find some hobbies and a social circle or else she will be completely lost when the empty nest stares her in the face one of these days.
My Mother can rip me to shreds in 5 words, give the Mom shrug and sly smile and go right back to what she was doing without missing a beat. It's incredible. She's like a fucking ninja with that shit. She told me that I was going to go gray early, because she did. She told me I must be having a hot flash and that I'd hit the big M early, because she did. This was at a restaurant with other family members. After having dinner at my Brothers she called me the next day to ask if there was anything I wanted because she wanted to do something nice for me. Sweet right? Yeah, no. I asked her like what dinner or shopping or what? She told me whatever I wanted and then suggested she pay for a haircut. Read: She didn't like my hair that night and thought I needed it cut. She is the master.
Things were strained before my dad died. My brother had estranged himself from the family years earlier. He would talk to me, but I was always the one who had to make the call. He never bothered to pick up the phone. My sister didn't even invite him and his family to her wedding. He showed up for my dad's funeral, spoke with me briefly afterwards as well as my mom. That was the last time I spoke with him. He was killed last summer, and I was the only one from my family to attend his wake and funeral. When my dad died, my mother couldn't be left by herself in NC. My sister and her husband "couldn't" have her go live with them back in NJ (where we're originally from, and where my mom still has family and friends) because it would create too much stress and negatively impact their attempts at having a child (which they did a few months ago, but they haven't even let my mother go visit). So, mom came back to TX with us and the understanding with my sister was, we'll take her in, but my sister would handle all of my mother's finances & affairs, and got complete POA (dad left a mess and a fuck ton of debt). When it got to the point where mom required more care than we could provide (aside from the physical ailments, she attempted suicide in our home), we placed her in a nursing home. I guess this pissed off my sister & brother-in-law since she's still dealing with all of the financial bullshit, had to oversee the selling of the house in NC, the complexities of the paperwork for her placement in the nursing home due to Medicare, etc. and they're not speaking with us (she won't even return a phone call from my kids). And of course, to my mom, I'm the total prick for putting her in the nursing home where you know, they make her do stuff--like get out bed! The only time she calls is when she needs something, and she calls during the day when she knows we're not home (and she has our cell numbers), and leaves a message addressed to my wife, not me. Yeah, it's way past strained. It's non-existent.
I'm not really sure this is an issue, but for as long as I can remember I've wanted to fuck my mom. Other than that we get along great.
See if she'll meet you halfway with a hand job, you get the connection you always wanted, she can pretend you're someone else, win win.
I haven't spoken to my mother in over 8 years. Childhood was fine. If anything, growing up I was very much my mother's son. My dad basically scared the crap out of me and had a very short temper. In hindsight, I can sympathize with my dad. He was working a stressful job and his marriage was not what he wanted it to be. Imagine being married and madly in love with a woman who says she doesn't love you to your face. Regardless, I was quite close to my mother right until I left for university, and talked to her weekly after that. Part way through university my parents finally divorced; my dad found out she was cheating on her. I was 21 at the time so the divorce had little impact on me. By then I had known for some time that my mother didn't love my father and wanted out, so it was hardly a surprise. Life went on. By then I had noticed that my mother was weird about money and possessions. Gifts from her were usually stuff that she'd "recycled" out of the dumpster at her apartment building. She'd spend an entire day sitting by the side of the road doing a little garage sale. Once, after one of these little garage sales, I literally saw her tear up and hug my grandmother because she'd made a whopping $50. Still, as I saw it, mom was quirky. Big deal. I finished university and started working, and before long was able to buy my first car. This is relevant because it allowed me to make the long drive a few times a year to northern Quebec to go see my great-aunt (my grandfather's sister). My great-aunt and great-uncle have a special place in my heart. I spent most of my childhood summers with them in this small town. My uncle taught me about mechanics, fishing, hunting and generally was a second father to me. My great-aunt was simply sweet and loving. They had no children of their own and had in some ways adopted my father, and I was much closer to them then to my actual grandparents. Sadly, when I was 18 my uncle finally succumbed to his CPD and left my great-aunt a very lonely widow. So as soon as we were able to afford a car, the wife and I drove up there to see her. We made a special point of going at Christmas so she wouldn't be alone on Christmas day. I still feel guilty about feeling this way, but to be honest it was not very pleasant visiting her. When my uncle passed, she seemed to embrace her misery. She pretty much refused to leave the house, to go out and do something, anything. Relatives would stop by and try to get her to come on a short trip and she'd refuse. During one of my visits we found two abandoned white kittens in the back yard, so we brought them in and fed them. They turned out to be two of the friendliest cats I have ever come across, and I'm a dog person. She had been talking about getting a pet to have some company, so I figured here's the perfect opportunity. The next day I drove into town and bought all the essentials for her; a litter box, litter, a bunch of cat food. I left feeling better that she'd have some life in the house. Within a week she'd given the cats away. She just preferred to wallow in self pity, which made being around her not fun. Still, she had done a lot for me and so every Christmas we'd make the long drive to be with her. When I was in my late twenties, my great-aunt fell at home and spent the better part of the day lying on the floor. She was in her early 80's by then, and age was catching up with her. It was decided by the family that she shouldn't be living alone anymore, and she went to live with her niece and husband. They were older and retired, and my great-aunt had done a lot to help them out financially over the years, so the niece (we'll call her D) felt it was time to repay my great-aunt by taking her in. Plus, my great-aunt was dead set against going into a retirement home. The family felt very grateful for the sacrifice the niece was making, save for my mom. Out of the blue, I get this bizarre call from my mother trying to convince me that we should talk my great-aunt into going into a retirement home. I was perplexed, because my aunt clearly didn't want to go into a home and D was willing to take her in and care for her. After several minutes of not understanding what was behind all this, my mother blurts out "D's just trying to get her money". Ah. I told my mother this was nonsense and to just drop it. My mom sent a few letters here and there to my aunt warning her that D was after her money, much to the ire of the family as D was by then a round-the-clock caregiver to my aunt. I started getting a little irritated with my mom. Let's be clear, we're not talking about millions of dollars. I think it amounted to maybe $25K in the bank plus the house which was worth maybe $60K. The house was sitting vacant at the time, and my great-aunt had told my father, my mother and myself that I was getting the house in the will. As that first Christmas with her living at D's approached, the wife and I thought that maybe this year, for the first time in 7 years, we could stay in town and celebrate Christmas day with her family. D always had her kids and grand kids over on Christmas day so my aunt would be surrounded with people, life and laughter. Leading up to this, my mom was continuing her campaign to get my aunt out of D's house, and she thought it very important that I should go see my aunt, and she sent me an email to that effect. That really fucking pissed me off because my mother had NEVER spent Christmas with my aunt, and so I wrote my mother back something which I probably could of worded better. It went along the lines of "The wife and I have had our Christmases ruined for the last seven years so Auntie wouldn't be alone on Christmas day and this year we're having our own Christmas. If you think its so important YOU go see her!" It was a harsh thing to say regarding my Aunt, and really I was referring to the entire experience; the long drive in bad weather, my aunt's oppressive sadness, the wife and I now being able to have our own little Christmas. I regret writing it, but there you go. My mother dropped it, Christmas came and went, and around New Year's my mother invited us over to dinner so we went. We had a perfectly nice dinner and what had transpired between my mother and I was not mentioned. I thought it resolved. Roughly a week later I get a phone call from my great-aunt who is sobbing hysterically. She's crying so hard I couldn't understand what she was saying for the first few minutes until she calmed down a bit. Finally, I make out she got this letter saying that I think she ruined my life and that I hate her. I spend the next hour consoling her and trying to convince her this is all a lie. Finally, D gets on the phone and I ask her what the hell is going on. My mother sent my aunt the letter. I decide that weekend to make the drive to see my aunt to further reassure her and to see this letter. I get there. I read the letter from my mother. The first page is the usual minutiae of life people put down. The second page however was markedly different. To paraphrase: "Oh by the way Auntie, you wouldn't believe the horrible things Eric said about you. I just couldn't believe. He said he hates you. It was so terrible what he said. If I were you, I would take him out of the will and not give him the house. If you want the house to stay in the family, you could just give it to me. That way I'd have a place to stay when I go see you and could see you more often. It really was terrible what he said. Oh, and you don't need to mention this to Eric. I already spoke to him and gave him a piece of my mind." Et tu, Brute? I decided then in there that if my mother was willing to betray over this shitty little house in the middle of Buttfuck, Quebec, she was no mother to me. I sent her a copy of her letter back to her, with a short note basically saying "So long, and thanks for all the fish" and haven't spoken to her since. The kicker is that the letter was dated right before Christmas. Therefore when I had visited my mother on New Year's, when she'd hugged me, when we sat at the table and shared a meal, she had already set this little plot in motion. She had already betrayed me, yet looked me in the eye and acted as if nothing had happened.
Know way? Focus: My mom used to scare my girlfriends when I was in high school. She still knows how to push my buttons like no one else. I salute her.
My mom died when I was seven, so, like, we were cool. (Except for any issues resulting from that but it's not like it was her fault.) So I'm going to hijack the focus because I want to complain about dysfunction too. In the past few years, my relationship with my dad has been great. I probably have the healthiest father-daughter relationship of anyone I know. But, obviously, it's not perfect/hasn't been great forever. The original post reminded me of one of my sarcastically favorite dad moments. I was a Junior in high school, and for one of the essays for my AP US History class we had a few options, and I chose to write about the significance of trains in westward expansion (or something along those lines). My dad really likes trains so I was like BONDING TIME, and he helped me with research and we talked about it and all that. I was really proud of my paper and thought it was juicy and beyond the expectations of the assignment. My teacher agreed, and I got a 98 on it. I showed it to my dad in excitement, and he asked if he could read it, and then later that night he sat me down to go through my paper with me to explain why he didn't think I deserved a 98. Uh. Thanks. That's really out of character, though, which is probably why it stands out in my memory so much. There have only been two periods where our relationship was not good. One was the few years following when my stepmom also died, and we were both (understandably, ifidosaysomyself) fucked up over it. He just sort of withdrew and stopped being a parent. This started when she was really sick, and she had a young son (he was 4, I was 12) and I was left to be his mom and my parents all while dealing with that crap. That was pretty much how it was after she died and my stepbrother disappeared with his dad. I was just sort of hanging out on my own. It doesn't really bother me that much, though. Every now and then I think "Wow, that sucked," but even at the time I understood what was up and I know I'm stronger/more independent now for it. Then, in 2008, things went to shit again and I have no idea why. He just suddenly started being really distant and acting like an asshole. Maybe it was a midlife crisis or something....even though he was in his fifties. It was my first summer home from college and I was having a rough time too, and I just remember us screaming at each other like we never did before and I don't remember why. On Father's Day, he disappeared without a word. I have this big fear of him dying (for obvious reasons) so I spent the whole day having a panic attack/bawling at my boyfriend's house because I assumed the only explanation for it was that he was dead on the highway or something. Then, the next day he was back at home and acted like nothing had happened. Still don't know what happened there. Also, that Thanksgiving, he decided to spend it with his girlfriend. It's always a touchy holiday for us because we never have anywhere to go, and we usually don't know what we're doing until the last minute when someone feels sorry for us and invites us over. So then I had no idea what I was doing for Thanksgiving and thought I was going to be spending it alone at home. Finally, one of my friends invited me to her family's dinner, and then I went to my boyfriend's afterwards. It sucked not spending the day you're supposed to spend with family without the only family I had. But, yeah, except for those instances/time periods, I can't complain.
My Mom can be difficult to deal with due to her lack of social skills (something she passed down to me) and general mental instability (ditto). One acquaintance called her "calmly hostile," which seems like an accurate description. She hasn't spoken to her siblings in over five years for reasons that have never been made clear to me. But lately I've been thinking about all the things I took for granted as a kid and never thanked her for. She cooked dinner every night while my brother and I played video games, drove me just about everywhere and flawlessly kept track of all my doctor's appointments, baseball practices, and back-to-school shopping until I was old enough to start doing so myself. Problem is, I've always been bad at expressing my feelings or gratitude. I'm thinking about sending a really heartfelt card for Mother's Day as a start.