Thank you for that
I’m still working on it. I called her tonight and kept the conversation to less than 5 minutes and it felt great to hear her voice, know she’s ok and not give her enough time to get into the “when are you coming home” speech that always creeps in, she didn’t even have time to hint at it. That way, the phone call left me with no lingering guilt or resentment. I just hope I didn’t come off as rude.
Sounds like a great strategy to me!
Not to be indelicate about it, but I’ve gotten very attuned to when her side of the conversation is about to degenerate into either nagging or guilt-piling, and I’ve used, “Mom, I really have to go to the bathroom,” as an excuse to get off the phone quickly. Probably not the most ingenious strategy, but unarguable and quite utilitarian.
You do owe it, not only to yourself, but to your own family, to avoid getting dragged in. Your own family deserves to deal with a mom who is not tense and resentful.
I really did like the idea of realizing that my mother is not going to be June Cleaver, and never has been, and just accepting the fact. As much as I dislike the expression, “it is what it is,” recognizing and accepting facts about my loved ones spares me the angst of wishing otherwise, and grieving anew every time I recognize that it isn’t the case.
Recently, I had purchased a statue of St. Joseph the Worker (the one where he has carpentry tools.) I bought this statue when my husband and I undertook repair/remodeling on our master bathroom, as fights over home construction and other projects seem to be de rigeur around here, but we couldn’t afford to get a contractor, and were more than capable of doing the work ourselves (DH could probably build a strip mall out of tongue depressors if he set his mind to it.) I just wanted something to elevate the atmosphere while we were doing the work a little to avoid the snarf factor. Just having the statue led to my praying to St. Joseph silently (DH is Lutheran,) before a work session. Guess what–the prayer worked. We were able to complete the project efficiently and without unpleasantry. On my last foray to the Catholic bookstore I noticed a statue in similar scale of Mary as a housewife, apron on and broom in hand, with the child Jesus (about age four, in the sculptor’s depiction,) and will probably go back to pick that one up too. I have recently (in the past four months or so) started praying to the Holy Family for peace in my own family. That seems to be working, which is no small potatoes, as I’m recovering from spine surgery and my husband is undergoing radiation treatment for cancer. I didn’t think the two of us would be capable of occupying the same space together for days and weeks on end without some pretty significant hassles (I’m not talking about domestic violence, I’m talking about snotty remarks, sarcasm, and sniping, and we both can be very guilty of those things.) So far, we have been considerate of each other, doing small favors for each other (within our temporary physical limitations,) and even the dog seems friendlier.
I’m just throwing it out there: Obviously, you don’t necessarily need a statue vignette to pray to the Holy Family, but it’s nice to have some kind of physical reminder around, for those of us who have loving but dysfunctional family systems going on. Maybe you could get a little holy card, and put that up near your phone, so when the phone rings and it’s Mom, you have a little something to help you not have your shoulders and neck muscles tighten up when you answer the phone.
There is no question about it: Our own reactions can inadvertently feed into the problem, and sometimes those can be as ingrained as our adversarial parent or spouse’s behavior that provoke them. That silly statue, with his patient gaze, got my husband and I to the point where we were able to complete something pretty big (the bathroom remodel) without resorting to miserable behavior. Actually, what the statue did was inspire prayer and elevating our own thoughts. I’m sure St. Joseph would approve. And I’d even be willing to bet that good St. Joseph would approve of the quality of our work–the finished result probably added a good several thousand dollars to the value of our house!
Here’s a thought, too: Perhaps you can lean on Mary a little; tell her in prayer how you feel about your own earthly mom’s good points and flaws, and your own frustrations in your conversations with her. Mary is, after all, our heavenly mother, and she’s better at it than any earthly mother could possibly be. Maybe she can inspire you better on how to handle your own mom so that the two of you can arrive at the point where you are able to enjoy your relationship.