This blog is one I could write at any time. It can be relevant every day in some way. Of all the blogs, I can categorically say, that this subject matter will definitely be a chapter in the book. I could write the whole book on it alone. Many people have.
Most people will be able to relate to the subject matter. If not themselves, then for other family members. The subject matter is probably responsible for the majority of people experiencing emotional health problems and those seeking help.
I went to see my mother this week. She lives in a nursing home about 250 miles away, near my sister. She is 91 next week and has dementia. Fortunately she is not agitated or distressed and still recognises us. Mother sits quietly in her comfortable room and is well cared for. She looks like a mild mannered, little grey haired old lady. That's what she is...now.
Someone was telling me that their ex husband has told them, that he stays aways from his 95 year old mother, as he still has issues with her. I sighed.
Other than the now commonplace use of the infuriating word, 'issues', (http://emotionalgrowth.blogspot.com/2011/07/ive-got-issue-what-do-you-mean-problem.html ), I thought to myself, that if I let past problems with my mother intrude in the present, I wouldn't bother being in touch, let alone visit. But all I can see is a little old lady, who has little comprehension on what day of what year it is, let alone remember past relationship problems.
Yes, I can still wince a bit, when she thinks I'm some sort of angel, but the thought of saying something is dismissed and I return to the present. A few years ago at the start of her mental deterioration, she said to me, 'I don't think I was a very good mother." What to do? Agree and tell her exactly what I thought of some of my childhood experiences? Rub it in? What would the point have been? Would I have felt better? I doubt it. It would have changed nothing.
A friend thought that I should have gone the other way and reassured her that she was a wonderful mother. Hmmm. I couldn't do that either. So I made some general comment and changed the subject.
The main reason my mother and I had a difficult relationship through my childhood, was that my father was extremely difficult and I reminded her of him. No personal archaeology necessary, as I was reminded on an extremely regular basis, that "You are just like your father." It was only in adult life and well before I embarked on any psychology training, that I recognised 'transference', though I had no idea that's what it was called.
http://emotionalgrowth.blogspot.com/2011/07/i-dont-like-you-why.html
I first became aware of 'transference', when 'the penny dropped' and I realised that my first husband, who was unable to express any feelings to his mother, dumped them all on me.
In the last few months of his life, people would ask if my father had apologised for his behaviour. I used to answer that he hadn't and at that stage of life, I wouldn't really want him to. I had already realised that mother apologising would have changed nothing. Nothing that I would have liked changing.
My father held strong and challenging opinions. At 91, I felt that it was easier that he died with those opinions intact. If he had suddenly said, "Oh, I've been wrong all along", where would that have left matters? It would have been helpful if he could have changed his opinions and behaviour in the 1950s, but it wasn't going to make any difference in 2010.
And that's the point. Christmas is coming. Lots of opportunities for past events to be aired in family situations, aided by alcohol. Parents and children, grandparents, brothers and sisters. All old, sometimes very old, hurts simmering away ready to boil over at any moment. In the middle of Christmas 2011, the room is full of past years being played out, like watching a personal 'A Christmas Carol' film. Been there, done that etc:
Doctor's surgeries, therapy and counselling rooms, addiction units, psychiatric units, the prison system, all have to deal with the fallout of unresolved family dynamics. Of unmet needs, actual or perceived. Of adults unable to deal with the present in a mature way, but with the emotional age of an under 10 years old.
When people stop trying to change the past, which is impossible, they can 'grow up' into the present and find they can function in healthier ways.
As quoted in the previous blog, "My mother treats me like a six year old." Well, only if you let her. Learn to draw boundaries. I had to. I know it's not easy, but worth one's sanity. Also look at the bigger picture for greater understanding.
The mantra of so many adults is the Philip Larkin's poem, 'This be the verse.' Universally known for the opening line, "They f**k you up, your mum and dad." It's quoted as an excuse for all sorts of anti social behaviour.
If people read the second verse, they may be able to see the bigger picture and put their parent's behaviour into perspective.
'This be the verse' by Philip Larkin
They f**k you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were f**ked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.
(Third verse isn't helpful!)
No-one can change past events. Only filmmakers and writers.
Past emotions can be changed and so can present day attitudes.
Family history can be fascinating. Helpful too. As well as being difficult, my father kept his correspondence since the 1930s. As I read more and more, so I find more pieces of his personal jig saw and his behaviour can be explained. Not excused though.
There are no excuses, but there can be reasons.
©RitaLeaman2011
3 comments:
Thanks, Rita. My therapist long ago said "Somebody did a job on your mother." How comforting that was! And how liberating. I still deal with "area overcoercion" but I am free.
Picaress
Thanks Rita - You know I had superb parents - I would love my daughter to think I was even remotely like them. I think I probably f**ked them up much more than the other way round as I went off round the world on my adventures getting into trouble. The down side is that when good parents die you are left with colossal grief as their presence and positivity in your life is so sadly missed. Nothing's easy - it's there to make us grow. x
A reader has sent me the link to a relevant article in the Daily Telegraph last week.
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/health/wellbeing/8928271/Graham-Norton-losing-a-parent-to-dementia.html
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