I have tried to find an image to depict the amazing and delicate and strong and beautiful relationship between a mother and a daughter. I'm sure there are many, but I am drawn to the image of a ballroom dance. Hang with me for a moment. Moms and daughters are unlike any relationship that I have ever experienced. There is nothing more complex and yet fragile. There is nothing so tightly woven and yet so fluid. Whether you are 8 or 80, there is a connection between a mother and daughter that you cannot separate. Even those who have been without the other half for decades will tell you, no matter the reason, the hole that has been left by losing a part of this pair will never be repaired completely.
I have been fortunate on both ends of the mother/daughter dance. I am the daughter of an amazing mom and I am a mother to two beautiful daughters. I was blessed to know both of my grandmothers and watch their mother/daughter interactions. I have been witness to countless ups and downs in this sacred journey and I feel quite confident in saying that every one of the great mom and daughter pairs have grown from leaning into the deep love that comes from a well of experience and hope and truth and pain and struggle and gratitude.
We don't wake up knowing how to be a mother. We learn it from our own experiences and from watching others hurt and thrive in life's hardest lessons. There is not a mom OR daughter that has the manual for success. The strongest versions of this bond are forged in the hard work of knowing and being known.
I stand on the diving board of the teenage years with my oldest. As a mom, this is a harrowing experience. I remember what 15 looked like. I remember how I knew everything. I remember how she knew nothing. And yet, we jump. 15 was a turning point year for my mom and me. I can honestly say that while by most external measuring sticks I was a "good" kid, I was a hothead. My default was a dangerous cross between depressed and pissed off. Add to that hormones and boys and body image and a few other substances and it is a wonder that my mom still invites me to dinner.
I can honestly say that the next 20 years of my life were a constant struggle to impress and run away from my mom, all in the same breath. This is the magical choreograghy of this relationship. Push and pull. Lean in and jerk away.
There are days and weeks and months that look like a Waltz. There are also seasons that look like like a disastrous Quickstep and feel completely out of control. I'd like to tell you that the movement from one dance to the next is smooth and painless. It is not. This journey has seasons of grief. I can recall thinking that there was no one who understood me less than my mom in certain moments.
Recently, she asked me when it was that I started "liking her" again. This broke my heart gave me hope all at the same time. I was so sad that there was a season that both of us would agree we could not be the rock that the other one needed. But it also gave me so much joy to know that we are now in a place where there is not a doubt that I not only love her, but I LIKE her!
I can honestly say that my relationship with my mom has defined me as a person more than any other human relationship. Go ahead, tell me to go to therapy. I have. And here is what I learned. I am JUST LIKE my Momma. We think alike. We love alike. We act alike. We enjoy the same things. We do many of the same things well. We handle stress in similar ways. Give us a craft room, a to-do list and some money to shop and together we can create anything for anyone. We are some of the best medical advocates around and we are not afraid of hard work.
My mom is brave and strong and fierce and talented and creative. We were born 27 years apart, into worlds that were very different, and yet our hearts are very similar. I think this can be said of my teenager, as well. Learning to navigate the new found generational differences and opportunities and norms and dreams is the challenge that I enter with delicate precision.
I talk to my mom most mornings. We chat about everything from our fears to Candy Crush. Our newest idea is that one day she will live a Granny Pod in our backyard and she will care for my flowerbeds, because that is one love that we don't share. I could not be more thankful for all that I have learned from her and because of our relationship.
With all of our many similarities, the thing that has brought us the most joy is celebrating the ways that we are unique. She still hates my tattoos. I still don't understand her blue comb or her need to wear XL t-shirts. But I will be one lucky mom if when my girls are 42 they can have half the respect and admiration for me that I have for the woman who has been my best dance partner all of these years. I can see her now, dancing with her pointer fingers in the air. And I am dancing along, probably rolling my eyes and loving every minute of it.
Happy Mother's Day, Mom
No comments:
Post a Comment