Todays post is about to dive into some real shit. Are you ready? I’m about to get way too honest on my blog for the first time. But I was inspired, by Alison over at The Knotty Bride, who pushes herself to blog, honestly, about herself. She proclaims to blog what scares her, and I love reading it. I find myself searching for truths that are mixed into her beautiful wedding posts. What a combination! I feel like her feelings, her emotions are so REAL. And when I see that someone else with a beautiful blog is brave enough to talk about things that aren’t particularly rosy, like pooping, and arguing with your man, it validates my feelings. And makes me feel like it’s OK to not be perfect. I do live in real life after all.
So, in this post Alison shares 5 truths about herself on her birthday. Her fourth truth is that aside from her significant other, the person she loves most in this world is her mother. And all at the same time, her mother is the person that she can be most rude to. She’s not proud of this, but openly admits it (Bravo Alison, I thought I was the only one). Can I say right here that this just about sums up my feelings, I adore my mother. She is a fantastic mother. But I can be incredibly ride at moments to her. And Unlike Alison, I am going to take this one step further to say, I think my mother has the same problem with me. I know she loved me to the stars and back, but we are so close that sometime the boundaries of a mother/daughter relationship aren’t held up as well as they should be. My mother can def snap at me, just as quick as I can do to her.
And now, I must be completely clear that my mother and I aren’t bitches. We are really nice people who don’t snap at other people. So why do we do this to each other? It’s a little puzzling, why are we mean to the people we love?
Alison realtes this to guilt. And oh, can anyone cause a guilty response like a mother! Then Alison recommends reading this article. Her quote: “I suggest giving it a read if you’re curious about the concept of guilt and how it runs our fucking lives.” Alison and I, we need to be friends, obvs.
The article is from the New York Times, and while it does a great job validating more of these things, it has a paragraph that sums up my exact belief about the guilt in my family.
My mother would probably hate the idea that talking to her makes me feel this way. It would almost certainly make her feel crippling guilt in turn. For guilt is an heirloom emotion, a moth-ridden quilt that no one can quite bring themselves to throw out. It bonds us together, a glue more powerful than the family dinner table . My mother makes me feel guilty because her mother made her feel guilty. We will probably continue to transmit our guilt down the generations until our great-great-great-grandchildren jump in their spaceships and flee the planet. When they do, they’ll almost certainly be made to feel guilty about it.
My mother would be so hurt to know I feel this way. But just because I don’t tell her doesn’t mean that I don’t feel this way. The guilt in my family has been passed down. The bad behavior. All of it. It’s done because that’s what the woman before us did. But for me, unlike Ruth, the brave and astute author of this article, I am going to my best to end this cycle. I’m going to throw away the heirloom guilt quilt, or better yet- hang it on a wall. On the wall, I can see it and remember exactly why I stopped using it. Because it isn’t soft, or warm, or made with love. It isn’t anything I would want a blanket to be. Guilt is hurtful, and probably inescapable in this life. But I am going to do my best to stop spreading it.
And for the next couple months, leading up to my wedding (!!!) I am going to try to shrug that shit off!