Running From
As a teen I remember all the arguments and feelings of anger that boiled under the surface at how different my mom and I were. It seemed that there was no way she could ever understand the complexity of thoughts, emotions, and fears that circled inside my head. Her frenetic anxiety, constant business of tasks, and inability to just relax and be present were a constant reminder of who I didn’t want to be when I grew up.
My perspective of her back then was of someone who cared so deeply about what other people thought, and who so desperately needed to be seen as someone who had raised the perfect daughter, while the undercurrent of what occurred behind 4 walls was far from that image.
Running Against
In college, after some therapy, I found myself separating even more. I began setting hard boundaries and even had an “intervention” with her about my feelings regarding her alcohol abuse and the impact it had on me growing up. I somehow needed her to know that I wasn’t okay with it and that I wasn’t going to be like her.
I longed for the relationship that some of my friends had with their mothers, but knew that my anger, resentment and disappointment kept me from ever being able to empathize with her struggle. I could only see the impact her behavior had on me and my family, and had no ability or desire to look underneath the surface of her actions to begin to see the untold story that lived deep in her pain.
Running Against
In 2014 my father was diagnosed with Stage IV Lung Cancer at the age of 73 and within 2 weeks of his diagnosis, he was bed bound and on hospice. I remember him looking me in the eye and saying “don’t leave me Gina, she can’t take care of me!” It’s a moment in time I will never forget. While in the house caring for my father in his last week of life, I remember watching the totality of her drinking and lack of ability to cope with her emotions.
Running With Curiosity
After getting past my initial anger at her inability to be present, even in my father’s dying process, my heart started to soften toward her. I was beginning to “perspective take” and some level of unfound empathy was starting to arise. I could hear Brené Brown’s voice in my head “how would my life be different if I believed she was doing the best she could.”
Dammit Brené…you’re interfering with my Anger. I’d rather stay angry and pissed off at her because that was easier than feeling the grief and pain, as well as the reconciliation of the unmet expectations of who she couldn’t and would never be able to be for me.
Running With Anguish
In Atlas of The Heart, Brené says “Anguish not only takes away our ability to breathe, feel and think – it comes for our bones. Anguish often causes us to physically crumple in on ourselves, literally bringing us to our knees or forcing us all the way to the ground. The element of powerlessness is what makes anguish traumatic. We are unable to change, reverse, or negotiate what has happened.”
This is exactly the feeling I experienced at my mother’s bedside in January 2016 when we learned she had metastatic colon cancer and that the only decision that supported both her wishes and her level of pain was palliative inpatient care. She died 5 days later.
Running For “The Reflection In The Mirror”
This week I was back at my optometrist grabbing my new pair of glasses (because I’m getting older and can’t see..ugh). The technician did her part to adjust the frames and then when I looked at my image in the mirror, my eyes began to well up with emotion and I was overwhelmed with a moment of grief and sadness.
I recognized that the person staring back at me as I aged, had very similar features and facial expressions to the woman I spent so much of my life trying to be different from.
While I have mentally ensured I would never be a drinker, and have worked very diligently at learning to let go of perfectionism and aspects of the person I never wanted to be…the good parts of who she was and all of who I know she wanted to be shines inside me! When I look in the mirror, I see her…just a different version…someone who accepts my imperfection and uses the power of vulnerability to help care for others. Today when I look in the mirror I hope she knows that who I am is a reflection of who she was, and all that she was afraid to be.
