Tell me about your mother...

Being a psychologist is very difficult for "small talk", because the moment I ask "How's your mum", there is another moment where the person about to respond needs to work out that I really am asking after their mum, not trying some Freudian psychoanalysis...

MEMO TO ALL:  I am ALWAYS only just asking about your mum, unless we're in a session I'm being paid to teach!

I have also put off writing this for some time, partly because I haven't completely got my thoughts together on it, partly because there are some things I'm not yet prepared to discuss, and because I know it can stir feelings in those who read it and either knew my mum, or connect (or NOT!) with what I'm saying.  Hence, this currently sits better on my personal blog over my professional one. 

I write it now because I was recently asked to give a comment on my opinion of someone's behaviour who is in the public eye.  Now first of all, without having ever seen someone as a client/in a workshop I do not claim to know anything about their state of mind to give any from of feedback nor prediction, what I do offer are broadstrokes based in theory and research only.  In this case the situation was one where this person's behaviour was extreme, to the extent where loved ones were fearing for their health.

This reminded me of my mum.

To those who knew her - and it is significant that she maintained few close friendships by the time she passed away, but seemed perfectly at ease with the everyday companions that she made, she was a kind and generous woman, always wearing a smile, always with something nice to say, always humming a happy tune.  In many ways, this is not far from who she was as a young woman.  Her close friends from Malaysia (where she grew up, before training as a teacher in the UK and migrating here in the 60s where she taught special educational needs until her retirement), have countless stories of her thoughtfulness - including cooking and bringing chicken soup to a sick friend every single day.

Those who knew my relationship with her (especially as an adult) are certainly forgiven for thinking she struggled somewhat with a spoilt, loud, "daddy's girl" whose personality was worlds apart from her own gentle nature.  I remember a line in the film version of Bridget Jones' Diary where Bridget's mum tells her "It doesn't help that you and Daddy have your little club of two, and are always saying 'What's silly mummy getting up to this time?'" which probably hit home harder than I realised at the time.

The truth is, I loved her as a daughter "ought to"...but I knew she didn't see me for who I was, or am, and it turns out I didn't see her either.  Day to day our relationship grew evermore superficial (but that was also becoming a thing with her as she withdrew more from those that knew her.) 

She certainly loved me though - to almost an overpowering extent - she had what I would call (with some personal horror) a "shrine" to my "successes" - where she kept my certificates, my trophies, the programmes from all my shows...  She also brought me to every single commitment I had as a child - singing, dancing, skating; to every competition; came to every production.  

But I also know we just didn't know how to get on with each other.  If we weren't eating or talking about something I'd "done", we were shouting...me about why she lived (for quite some time) in what I would describe as "a hoard"...for those who knew my childhood home in Hastings, the "stuff" she accumulated grew to fill it, the state of the house worsened, and every attempt to make any changes was met with agreement first and then complete disregard usually after she "talked to dad".  Even when by that point I was mature enough to be able to question "Why is this a problem for dad because he doesn't even live here anymore."...she would simply say "I'll handle him".

Finally in 2017 I was able to move her into a smaller flat, at which point we were able to restore a sense of cosiness - which I truly believe she appreciated, even though sadly, she passed away before a year in her new home.  However, I know she died happier, healthier, and more genuinely at peace.

But I still struggled with her eulogy.  Being an only child - and by this time my dad's eyesight had gone and he still has his own health issues - I was of course (and I wouldn't have had it any other way) responsible for her funeral and the ensuing administration.  (I am still thankful to friends and family who made this period at the start of 2018 so supportive).  I wanted to say I loved her, but most people by then knew that we didn't really quite "like" one another.  She'd all but said that to me herself...but silence in answer is as telling, and when I reflect on being someone who didn't "let things lie" - especially when she was asking me to do so...I wouldn't have liked me either...who would want to "like" someone who only seems to cause agro!?

I'm happy with how the day, and the eulogy went, and in some ways the delay (due to freak snow) to her postmortem, and thus her funeral, gave me time to restore a sense of balance in my own feelings, as well as go through her things, where I was genuinely moved by her teacher training final dissertation, her passion for nurturing others, and her pure and open love for so many things...even if I didn't see it while she was alive...or perhaps I was simply blind to it because it wasn't expressed to me in the way I perhaps needed or wanted - it certainly opened my mind and heart.

One thing that had previously played on my mind which I learned after her death, which seemed to confirm my clashes with her, is that she had told her best friend two key life lessons  "1: Always cinch your waist"; and 2 she would "Never want another child"

...my assumption was "I can't blame her, I wasn't easy!"...one thing I learned more recently which was probably the catalyst for writing this (unfinished) train of thought, was that she had seven miscarriages before me.

...and that put a whole new lens on my perspective!

As I say, this is unfinished, one day, it will be - as much for her sake as for mine, but for now, I do want to share one hugely important thought which I do hope helps anyone reading this.

Yes yes, first of all, I know - we can't control the behaviour of others - only our response; BUT if someone's behaviour seems to trigger feelings of frustration, anger, pain, even irritation in you; if it makes you - as I experienced, ever think things like "I always thought if my mum/dad/*insert name here* just loved me enough they'd not behave like that..." please please bear this in mind:

1.  Their behaviour is NOT about you...it is likely to be rooted deeper than you.  Taking it personally serves no-one.

2. Their behaviour is a product of what they had to go through and what they did to survive it (they just may not have realised they no longer need it)...either you need to and show them compassion, or at the very least - as sadly it's too late for me (save the meagre comfort of - "she never told me" although I'd asked many a time), be grateful you aren't experiencing what they did that brought them to these things that upset you right now...it is likely they have already protected you from that.

Mum - like these celebrities I'm now sometimes asked to comment on - I'll never understand what you went through, but I do you know loved me enough to protect me from it - and while it may have been misguided, you had your reasons, and I certainly respect you for that. I wish we had been able to have had a deeper relationship, but I can understand that sometimes you have to deal with what you have to deal with in your way - and that way can be so much love, with so little connection. But I am always grateful because even though you don't know it - and I never knew it at the time, I think I get my fundamental  kindness and generosity from you - but also a lot of my strength and resilience...and that thing about belts.  I don't know what you'd have made of the last 18months, but you'll be happy to hear both "Strictly" and "Bake Off" are going strong...and so am I.