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Contest: When Mother Doesn’t Know Best
I’m grateful to my mother because she taught me to have a good life. Part of how I learned was by osmosis. She excelled at almost everything, so just being around her elevated my game. But there were aspects to my mother that I didn’t want to replicate, and I thank her for indirectly teaching me what not to do, as well.
To enter today’s contest, answer the question: What one thing have you chosen to do differently than your mother (other than marriage)? Your response can refer to something trivial or profound or anything in between. And this is a contest worth entering. The prize is DEAR LIFE, a collection of stories from one of the great writers, Alice Munro, who recently announced her retirement. Submit your entry using the Comments section. Include your first name. If you win, we’ll email for your U.S. shipping address and phone number. By submitting you’ll become an FPS subscriber (if you’re not already). Please submit only one idea per entry, though feel free to enter as often as you like. Deadline is August 9, 2013.
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My mother worshipped men. It took me a while to figure this out as it initially presented out of character. She was fiercely independent, radical in many areas including way to the left of my father politically, and never afraid to stir up controversy during a staid dinner table conversation. But, in a sometimes subtle insidious manner and other times obviously, men ruled her internal world even when she railed against them. As I became increasingly aware of this I grew to not only resent it but understand how it undermined her being. I vowed to myself to be different.
Your mother sounds fascinating, Jules. I would’ve loved to have been around her dinner table.
My mother was a watcher & a dreamer. An introvert. She loved to read, study, & enjoyed the arts. Unfortunately, she was painfully shy & fearful of the world she observed. These impediments forced her to live a life full of hopes & dreams of traveling the world. She even went as far as to acquire a passport, but only traveled from Boston to Manhattan for a romp in the city for a weekend.
I was a capricious child & made an early choice to grab the world by the balls! I pushy self beyond my comfort zone & learning edge. While my mother succumbed to her resistance & fear, I chose to push through it, even when I was deftly petrified, paralyzed, or uncertain. I did not want to look back at my “life list” and wish I had.
Therefor I do choose to live a vibrant life!
Very inspiring. Thanks Krystin.
My mother always talked of traveling. She would say that “when we were older” she would go to the “Orient” (that was her word). That she would see the world.
Now we are far far grown, but something (fear?) still holds her back. She is afraid of the world, afraid of trying new things, especially without my father there to protect her.
I took her cue, though, and took on the world. I made traveling my work.
Sometimes I try to get her to come along, but that, too, is too much.
It’s so interesting to see what can become our catalysts.
My mom (Dorothy, 87) grew up in Boston and environs and was a serious Red Sox fan, ogling Ted Williams from the left field stands on Ladies’ Day (50¢ for women/girls back in the day!).
I grew up in Fairfield, CT. Borderline of Yankees/Mets/Red Sox divide. I must mention my dad, from Brooklyn, was a Dodgers-then-Mets fan.
I broke the mold from both my mom and pop–going with the Yankees. And, it wasn’t a front running decision at all. This was 1966. The Yankees dynasty had ended. They were old and injured (like this year). In last place! And yet, I went with them (Pinstripes and the name “Mickey Mantle”–just SOUNDS like baseball, no?), much to my mom’s and dad’s dismay. Do I get extra points for diverging from BOTH?
Radical!!
A pinstriped (Yankee) radical at that!
I used to be a Yankees fan, then Mets, then SF Giants, which is where I ended up. As long as my team is not involved, I’ve been known to root for the Red Sox on behalf of my brother.
Wendy–you may be the only person IN THE WORLD to be able to claim pulling for the Yanks, Mets and Red Sox. I’m not sure there’s a Guinness category for this–but there should be!
Strange bedfellows, I know.
My parents chose to pursue a very “traditional” marriage; my father is the breadwinner, my mother left her job as a flight attendant when she was five months pregnant with me nad has not held a job outside our family since. Having my mother available to be supportive and present during my childhood was invaluable, but her complete devotion to the lives of my father, my brother & myself caused her to lose sight of her own. While she is “happy” I know there are times she feels left behind in conversation or insignificant when we are all recounting our current endeavors and successes. As a result, I’ve chosen to work in a corporate environment, while also starting my own business. My goal is to always have options, flexibility, and satisfaction in my career. I would love to give my children (should I have any) the attention and support my mother gave me, but I plan to do that while also showing them that I can have a life that doesn’t revolve entirely around their every move. I plan to build a life that is not dependent on other people to validate me or give me purpose. And my mother is my biggest champion in this pursuit.
Jana, how great that your mother is your champion.
My mother never did anything by herself until about a decade ago. She never lived on her own until she and my dad got divorced 23 years ago. She never vacations alone, takes road trips, goes to a concert, has dinner, nothing. If she can’t find someone to go with her, then she’s not going. It’s not that I think she’s missing out on the perceived joys of oneness, rather her enjoyment of life is predicated on the availability of others which I think short-changes your own interests and desires. In comparison, I’ve lived alone since I was 23, taken vacations by myself, moved four or five times to different cities and states without knowing anyone, made friends, advanced a career and am doing just fine. About 10, 12 years ago, she told me she wanted to see a certain movie but none of her friends could go so she was going to wait for it to come out on DVD. I told her “Why can’t you go by yourself?” and she acted like I told her she should set herself on fire. Then I told her “Why should you not see a movie you want to see just because your friends can’t go with you? You’re in the dark and you’re not supposed to talk during a movie anyway so why do you need anyone with you?” Now she’ll go to the movies alone but that’s it!
Good for you, Latarsha, to inspire your Mom, even if it seems like baby steps. As for me, I LOVE going to the movies alone.
I love going to movies alone too. I like not having to worry if people are late, or where to sit, or even worrying whether the other person is enjoying the movie. I’m in my mid-30’s and have many friends that will not go to movies alone…b/c they don’t want to look pathetic. So yea, it’s not just women of a ‘certain generation’ that think like this.
This weekend I had the chance to see Blue Jasmine with friends, but opted to go alone. I like being able to let a movie sink in without hearing other people’s opinions right away. I find that i have a deeper experience.
Wendy, that’s exactly my plan for Blue Jasmine. Can’t wait.
Looking forward to hearing what you think about the film.
I really do admire my mom and her wisdom, and I ask her advice on a lot of things. However, one thing we disagree on is having your hair cut by a skilled professional! She uses those walk-in places and it’s hit-or-miss. I know my hair is different from hers–I think I got a lot of recessive genes from my parents as neither has wavy hair–but still, it makes a difference who cuts your hair.
She has pretty hair, has been fortunate with having not a lot of gray in her mid-60s, and deserves to give her hair the good treatment, I think. Maybe I can’t go for a haircut as often as I’d like because it costs more, but I’ve had the same hairstylist for years and never walked out with regrets.
Even in my 20’s and broke, I prioritized the need for a good haircut and stylist. I adore mine and selfishly hope she never changes careers. (In fact, I have an appointment tomorrow.)
My hairstylist had a baby last year; her maternity leave was a lonnnng growing-out period. Now I listen to all her baby stories happily while she’s doing my hair!
Glad my hairstylist had her kids before we met!
My mother kept all of her tough emotions inside. I’m convinced they grew inside her-in the form of fibroids, breast masses, thyroid growths, and finally the cancer that killed her. I made the decision years ago to let those emotions out.
That’s such an important, though heartbreaking, lesson your mom taught you.
Unlike my mother, I am choosing not to have children. My mother tried so hard, and when she learned she couldn’t have biological children, she and my father adopted my brother and me. While I can never fully understand or truly appreciate the depth of her love for me, we speak different languages when it comes to love. To her, love can only be conveyed through worry and fear. Love was a tool to shame me into changing my behavior, so she wouldn’t have to worry about me so much or fear that something would happen to me. But the sad part, for her more than for me, is that she can never rest. There will always be more things to worry about and new things to fear. I don’t know how to tell her that she raised competent, capable children who can find their way in this world, and that her worry does not need to be nurtured. And I know that my choice to not have children, while different from hers, may actually come from the same place. I fear that I would be the same way.
That is so powerful, Amy. Thank you.
I have struggled with anxiety much of my life, starting with my earliest childhood. I was a very anxious child. I was afraid of leaves. I know. Don’t ask – what kind of answer could I give? I was an anxious adolescent and an anxious young adult. I went through a very difficult time when I was in my mid 20’s, thought I was cracking up, and spent some very helpful time talking with a good shrink, after which the crisis passed, the clouds parted, and the sun started to shine in my life again. I have been blessed with a happy, productive adult life. Now, the thing about parents is I think it takes awhile before we are even capable of perceiving them as ordinary human beings and not gods and goddesses. My dear mother is now 90 years old and I have had a revelation over the past 20 years or so. I have come to realize that my mother is the most anxious person I ever met. The fruit does not fall far from the tree! My mom has great courage and has never stopped working or fighting or living – especially when it came to caring for her family – but the poor woman has always approached life with a profound anxiety and fear. And one day it occurred to me that I perhaps did not have to look far to see where I might have learned to be so anxious myself. I love my mom and she is the best mother in the world. But this is one legacy I have had to say no to. I reject the anxiety that beckons to stifle my life and my joy with fear. Or, rather, maybe “reject” is the wrong word. Say rather that I practice daily saying “yes” to the natural anxieties and uncertainties that are the price of living and try to make my peace with them, thereby removing their power to rob me of life.
We learn anxiety from our parents. I definitely got that gene. I can relate to your eloquently-told story, RS.
Your last sentence is a gem. Thank you.
What I have done differently than my mother is to allow myself to be vulnerable, especially to do the therapy I need to not be like my mother.
Here’s to the power of therapy, especially when it comes to mothers.
What have I chosen to do that is different that my mother’s choices?
Chosen is a powerful word. Chosen is a definitive decision. I cannot name just one decision chosen differently than my amazing mother. I am not sure that I have “chosen” certain paths that I have taken—those and these paths that my mom did not. Perhaps they were deliberate? Perhaps they were subconscious? Perhaps I was just more “free” to do so and elected to choose said paths…
I chose to pursue finishing a college degree even though I didn’t want to do so. I know that mom didn’t have a choice about finishing college when she became pregnant with my older brother and then with me.
I chose not get married in my early 20s as mom did although I had the opportunity.
I didn’t sleep with only 2 (maybe 3) men as mom did although I regret a few too many because I have lost count.
I didn’t have children as mom did although I wish I had chosen to do so and wish I’d had the opportunity at the right time, right place, right man.
I chose a career in travel and wish mom had had the opportunity to visit Europe as she desired to do.
I chose to smoke cigarettes just like she did. I chose to quite smoking those horrid things at least 20 years younger then when she decided to do so. I wish she had quit at a younger age like me because then she might still be here choosing to be the most spirited joy of our lives; wishing to travel and supporting and giggling with me in all my endeavors.
You make a really good point, Lynn. We stand on the shoulders of our mothers, who enabled us to make different decisions because we don’t have the same limitations.