How I came to accept my Mother

I had a love-hate relationship with my mother while growing up. There was a part of her that I really loved, and another part of her that I really hated. And sometimes the hate would become more powerful than the love that I had for her.

I grew up in dysfunctional family environment full of physical, emotional and sexual abuse. My mother worked hard to provide me with the best education. There were times of joy. We had family vacations, warm moments at home, and dreams for the future.

As I grew up and made the wrong career and relationship choices, my self-hatred also grew. I blamed my mother and childhood environment for making me the person that I was.

And then I found a spiritual program. I started rebuilding my life. I had a brand new career, enough money in the bank and a simply wonderful and loving boyfriend.

I started building bridges with my mother once again. Animosity gave way to new bonding. We started sharing our joys and worries. We went together on a three month long backpacking trip across South East Asia – one of my most memorable trips ever. My relationship with my mother was at its best ever. We were buddies all over again.

And then the shit hit the fan. My mother stubbornly refused to support my proposed marriage to my boyfriend on grounds of religion. She moved in with me and constantly started meddling with all aspects of my life.

I was going through a tumultuous period in my life. Everything that I had built in the previous years started collapsing around me like a pack of cards. My self-worth was at its lowest ever. My boyfriend moved to London, I quit my job, I let go of my deceitful friends, my finances were in chaos. Thoughts of suicide filled me.

I found a therapist and at her insistence started looking at my past. Suddenly, all the stored anger from my childhood resurfaced. Till then I had thought that I had forgiven my mother and all those from my past who had wronged. But the anger was there, very much alive.

I became very angry with my mother. I started confronting her about all the wrongs done to me in my childhood, about her inability to protect and nurture me as a mother. I just received denial in response from her which angered me further.

“So what, all parents beat up their children!”

Through a lot of reading and help from my therapist, I realized that I would never receive the particular brand of love and nurturing that I expected from my mother. I had to become my own mother and do it for myself. I had to nurture and love the child within me.

As a first step, I stopped confronting my mother or engaging with her in any sorts of arguments. I would get angry with her constant comments on my lifestyle but continue with what I thought best for me. I wanted to be my own individual, and not someone dictated by my mother, the society or any philosophy.

As I started focusing on myself more, building my boundaries and creating joy in my life, I found more peace in my life.

I stopped reacting to her. I felt I had detached myself only to realize some time later that I was still reacting to her internally. I would still feel irritated internally when she would call for me, or ask me to do something.

I questioned myself over it. What was happening here? Why was I getting irritated with her now?

I realized I still judged her and internally criticized her for the poor life choices and decisions that she made.

‘ Why does she still suffer like this? Why can she not make better decisions? Why can she not be more planned? Why does she scream in the mornings?”

It took me a while to make a list of my mother’s strengths and nurturing nature in all areas of her life. I decided to focus on her strengths and not the parts of her that I disliked. ( I don’t like calling them weaknesses anymore – I may see them as weaknesses but someone else may not).

As I started seeing a more holistic image of my mother, my love and respect for her started flowing back.  And in the process, it allowed me to accept my own imperfections. As I became more compassionate towards her, I became more compassionate towards myself. It was a two way street.

No wonder they say that resentments are the poison of the soul. They deprive us of the nourishing power of love.