Mothers and Women
by Megan Marzo, , April 21, 2009
It's funny how relationships change over time. As we grow older, people are constantly revealing themselves to us in new lights. We aren't children any longer, and the people in our lives no longer feel compelled to protect our innocence. Teachers swear, conversations aren't filtered and we sit at the adult table on Thanksgiving.
In the past few years, I've gotten the opportunity to become reacquainted with many of the adults in my life. I've given advice to my grandmother and drank beer with my former high school teachers. But the relationship that has evolved the most is with my mother.
Looking back, I've spent most of my life at war with her. I was reading through my old journals over break, and I couldn't believe the amount of animosity I had towards her. "I hate her," had to appear on every other page. We couldn't understand each other; I was too young to see the world through her eyes and she was too traditional to see it through mine. I saw her as a sort of omniscient force ruling over me, when I had little sense of who she was. She never shared any details about her past or personal life with me, so I returned the favor. Our main battles were fought at what should have been happy occasions: proms, birthdays and vacations. In college we were in a constant power struggle over my lifestyle and future plans.
But one day two summers ago, our relationship changed. We had spent the day in Ithaca with my dad and brother, and on our way home I convinced them to stop at the spot where I would cliff jump with my friends. We went down through the paths and they watched me jump into the gorge and swim up the waterfall. After I got out, my mom told me that she admired me. She told me that I've already done so many things at 21 that she will always be too afraid to do. I remember every small compliment she's ever given me, but this one was the most important. She was trying to tell me that although she didn't understand meor even agree with me, she admired who I was. She realized that I had grown up and that our sour relationship had left me with a set of values and practices that were completely alien to her. And although she struggled with me as a daughter, she liked me as a person.
After that, we started opening up to each other about the past andthings fell into place. I comprehended for the first time that before and after she had me, she was a woman; just as I am.
We went to lunch together this past Sunday. It was probably the highlight of my week. I opened up to her about how I've been feeling lost and apprehensive about the future. I told her that I've never been scared like this before and asked if she'd ever felt that way. I thought she was going to say something about when she was in high school or college. I don't know why, but I just assumed that it would be before I was alive, as if having a family was the easy part after you get past everything else. But she told me it was when my brother and I were little kids. My dad was traveling a lot for business, we were a handful, and she felt sort of alone. She was only a little older than I am now. I pictured myself in the situation; I'd probably have to be hospitalized for anxiety. Thinking about it, it came full circle. I thought about how strong she was; not as a parent, but as a person. At the same time, she was my mother, and that took a lot of strength as well. I realized that maybe, I'm hopeful that I'm strong too.
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