My Mom is both my harshest critic and my loudest cheerleader. I know that she loves me unequivocally. I know this because I tested the theory. She has loved me at my best and loved me at my worst. She has loved me through my successes and through my failures. She has loved me when all she could do was cry over situations that I had put myself in. I have never doubted how much I am loved. Not ever once.
That does not mean, however, that she agrees with my decisions nor my philosophies on life. Most of the time she disagrees. Loudly. Well, not loudly, my Mom never yells. I have never heard her yell. The angrier she is the quieter she gets. You know she's really pissed because she won't speak at all.
Interestingly, this doesn't really bother me because she also raised me to not seek her approval; in both covert and overt ways. My life has always been mine to live. It was coached to us daily to be aware of our power to choose our paths.
I was raised to take chances. My Mom's tag line to her email is, "Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined." by Thoreau. My sister says that because I'm the baby girl I take risks knowing that someone will always swoop in to save me. She is probably right. I would never go hungry, I would never go thirsty, I would never go without. I also can say, with no small amount of data, that I would never put myself in the kind of position that would find me homeless, hungry or thirsty. I was raised to well for that. (I get much joy pointing out to my sister that I didn't spoil myself - she spoiled me horrifically- so she can't be mad at me for that.)
Conversely, after giving her opinions on my life choices (usually the disagreeable kind), my Mom also fights with me in the trenches in unexpected ways. When my sister got married I decided to console myself by going to Europe with another friend. I had saved just enough money to not have enough. After a lecture on fiscal responsibility and how I have no real business in Europe alone at 18, she gave me the rest of the money. I did not sleep while putting myself though college as a single Mom, working full time, & in the full time ministry. Yet, nor did I shop for or buy my kids a stitch of clothing until after I had my degree and a full 2 years of employment under my belt. Both because I was broke and because I really hate shopping. Between my Mom and my sister, my kids also never knew what it was to have to go to daycare during that chaotic time.
She's never really proud of me either. Not in the manner that most kids expect. Whenever I accomplish something she just kinda gives me this look like- well, what did you expect? I told you you can do anything you put your mind to. I am spoiled but not coddled. More often than not I'm mostly just taken to task.
It was good though, I wasn't raised looking for approval from an external source.
Yet- yet when I need an honest opinion, someone who won't pull any punches and won't sugarcoat and will find all the cracks I miss- I call my Mama. Then I usually ignore her advice and do what I feel like doing. To which she shakes her head, rolls her eyes and goes on about her business. What a great relationship.
Looking from the outside in it's really hard to understand my relationship with my Mom and we don't bother trying to explain it. No ones business and all. I've just been thinking about what has shaped me- who has shaped me. I think my single biggest influence has been my Mom.
But dear God- Don't tell her. I'll never live it down.
Actually, she wouldn't say a word but I would get The Look. You know the, "Yes I've been right all along and you're very welcome I didn't suffocate you when I had the chance and you deserved it" look. Actually, she probably wouldn't do that either. She would probably shrug, nod, and keep it pushin. Understanding that at the end of the day raising me to be me means letting me be me.
And not losing any sleep over it.
Well done Mom.
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