Lunch with Mom...

I don’t talk about my mother much because this is a sensitive subject. Maybe you have mother issues that are still being worked through, like me. Others may have good relationships with their mothers. I am not one of the fortunate few. However, this is not a blog to rat on my mother, or complain about our wounded relationship. So I hope my readers and fellow meanderers will not hear any of this as judgment or criticism or complaining, or just the reiterating of yet another “story.” I see it as the continuous unfolding of two lives intertwined by birth, life, and the wounds of living. And hopefully I can bring some conscious awareness for myself through the writing of it.

The relationship with my mother can be strained and awkward, or it can be funny and humorous, as we navigate the wound-filled landscape between us – trying to avoid the deeper potholes. I admit I don’t spend a lot of time with my mother – on purpose – although I talk to her on the phone at least once a week to “check in.” Today she arrived after her Wednesday Bible Study group at her church for a planned lunch together. When we got to the restaurant she made a point to tell me that they discussed “not being judgmental” in the group this morning, and how much she believes in not judging others. You would have to know my mother to know just what a contradiction this is. Almost in the next breath she started criticizing a certain member of the congregation that wasn’t doing things the way *she* thought they should be done. Already I’m thinking, this is going to be a loonnnng lunch… Of course I tried to humorously point her back to what she had just told me about the not being judgmental discussion, to which she heartily agreed. Go figure. I think she doesn’t think that what she is saying is being “judgmental.” And in fact, after a little more complaining and “judging” on her part, and a little more humor about that fact by me, she said: I’m not judging, I’m just evaluating – to which we both laughed… I remember well my mother’s “evaluations” of my flaws :)

What she said made me think of how conveniently I give more subtle names to things so I don’t have to look at them, or myself, so I don’t have to admit that I am doing exactly what she is doing, or to not *see* something other than my self-constructed image. Like when I criticize my husband for some flaw (I learned well :) and I say – I’m just trying to help you! Yeah, like who am I to evaluate my husband’s behavior so that he can improve himself. Or as he reminds me, so I can get him to “perform” better. That’s still judging no matter what word I want to use to make *me* feel better… But this kind of awareness seems to elude my mother and she continues.

So I try to change the subject when there is a pause in the conversation, and I ask about one of my childhood memories, which was being sent to a woman for elocution lessons and also to what was called “finishing school” – lessons on how to walk and sit the “right” way. The proper etiquette if you will. So that, at the ripe age of 10 or 11, I might enjoy tea with white gloves and raised pinky with my friends??? Hello. Now if you knew me (and my family) you would know how laughable this is. And what a waste of money that was. We were a semi-professional working class family, not upper crust society. So why the speech and walking lessons I wondered. Her answer was revealing: So that I would know how to “act.” So that I would “fit in” and feel comfortable expressing myself with others (scripted on what to say). And I’m assuming that I would *look* “right” as well – in my black Mary Janes, matching purse and crisp petticoats. Oh yes, I remember. We went *grocery shopping* this way! Can you imagine!

My brother and sister also endured these elocution lessons and we practiced in unison: “RRRRRRollll on thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll on…” I’m sure my parents meant well, but it was interesting to hear what was important to them back then – looking and acting right, fitting in - the seeming foundation for their children’s well-rounded life, successful “careers,” and emotional stability – not. She will never know how utterly unprepared for life I have felt most of the time, because it wasn’t the acting or speech lessons, or “fitting in” that was needed. It was love, support and acceptance, not living up to an image of what I “should” be. Isn’t that really what we all want, what the “spiritual search” is really about – finding authenticity, finding out who we *really* are, and being seen for who we really are with complete and total acceptance, without judgment. But she has no clue that unwinding this conditioned construct has been a part of my life’s journey.

And so I commit to bring more conscious awareness to this learned habit of *unconsciously* commenting on the perceived flaws in others, wanting others to conform to the way *I* think they “should” be, or should behave, subtly trying to control life, and calling it something else. A lot of this has already dissolved, but there are remnants, especially with the people closest to me – like my mother: wanting her to be different than who she is, wanting her to genuinely see and admit her own flaws rather than judging everyone else’s, to somehow become conscious and quit deluding herself. But – that is the task that I have taken on for this lifetime, not her.

We actually had fun today, laughing and overlooking each others flaws, reminding me to just accept the way she is… At least for today…

Heart Smiles…