My Mother's Hands

While working in my garden last week, I pulled my hands from the soil and had a flashback as I saw my mother’s hands attached to my wrists. My mother is a creative woman and one of her passions is gardening. I remember watching my mom manipulate the soil around her roses with her small squared hands. Mom is a small woman who just reaches five feet tall yet I can't remember her being intimidated by anything and she would tackle any project with enthusiasm. Her little hands would sew stitches that were perfect and even.   These same tiny hands would fly up and down the piano keyboard with incredible speed as she played extremely complex pieces.





The relationship with my mother has always been turbulent. After I moved away from home, the relationship eventually disintegrated into nothingness. Although my mother is not a mean spirited woman, she is best described as being extremely self absorbed and not very forgiving. If she does not get her way she simply “cuts people out of her life.” I have never been able to understand how any mother could simply discard her own children the way some people toss out an old newspaper and it is beyond my comprehension how a woman who loves children so much can turn her back on her own.



I moved away from home three days after I graduated High School. My dad was worrying about my drive, offering advise,  and checking my car on the day that I left. My mother never acknowledged my departure.  I think that she was unhappy because I had arranged to stay with my older sister until I found  a place to live. She  had turned her back on my sister for something I considered to be unreasonable several years earlier.  I know she was angry that, not only was I not supporting her decision, I was leaving to stay with the enemy.  Mom sat in front of her piano and didn’t get up or say a word of goodbye because she was playing a complicated piece. Saying good bye to me could cause her to lose her concentration. I stood for a moment to watch as her hands manipulated the piano keys. Her fingers flew across the keyboard so quickly that they were a blur. As I drove away, my dad stood outside waving solemnly but I could see my mother through a family room window bent over her piano keyboard, completely focused on her music. She never broke her concentration and she did not even look to see her last child leaving home. At the time I was wondering if she felt anything. How could she not say goodbye? Was she indifferent or simply unwilling to deal with her feelings? Many years passed before I could listen to piano music without getting an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach.



When I reflect on what I admire about my mom, I think of her fighting spirit and her zest for life. My mother rarely exhibited fear and it seemed that no task was too much for her.  One evening when I was about 12 my mom, my sister, and I came home and found someone in our garage stealing gasoline from my mother’s car. Before we could stop mom, her little hands grabbed a stick and  she dashed into the garage. Moments later two large burly men were being chased down the street by my tiny mother. My father was, as usual,  upset at the risk she took.  Mom was able to assist the police in their capture of these men and for years she kept the large can of gasoline they dropped during their hasty departure. 

I have another memory of a time when she and my father had an argument.  After my father left for work, my mother took his boat without telling him, and we went to the lake. A storm was coming in and the water was getting rough. As we headed back to the dock we saw two men in the water clinging  to a small row boat that had capsized. Mom pulled alongside and we helped them into our boat. Between us, we were able to flip the capsized boat and tow it to shore. As we got home I remember the sight of my dad standing in the driveway and he looked upset. My little mother did not appear to be intimidated. Instead, she simply put her chin in the air and pranced right past him into the house. Dad was upset because she took the boat out without telling anyone where she was going but when he heard about the rescue he became upset about the risk she took. I recall the sight of my mom facing him, chin held high and hands on her hips as she replied  distinctly “..and exactly what would you have me do? Leave them there?  I am just as capable.....” Dad just stood and stared down at her for a long time.  He had no reply so he simply walked out of the house to calm down.





Mother’s day is approaching and I can’t help but compare my role as a mother to the role my own mother chose. By the time my mother was my age, she had purposely estranged herself from her two brothers, my father, and three of her four children. She had a different reason for each estrangement, but I don't feel that any of her reasons truly justified a reason to disown anyone. My sister and I attempted to keep an open line of communication because we hoped to give our children an opportunity to know their grandmother. All attempts have been rejected and today my mom does not know her own grandchildren. My mother is so stubborn, unforgiving, and often so self absorbed that it is easier for us not to be put in a position where we are forced to deal with her tirades and unreasonable demands.  Even so, I treasure my memories of her and I am sad that my children will never know the ornery little woman who chases burglars down the street in the evening and cries when she finds a bird with a broken wing the next day.





I could spend my life resenting my mother, but I don’t. Anger and resentment are negative emotions that accomplish nothing positive.  The victim mentality is a waste of time and I refuse to surrender to it. It is my belief that life is a journey and if my focus is on the view in the rear view mirror I will miss the opportunity to see the beautiful scenery that lies in front of me. As challenging as my mother can be, I treasure every memory because my experiences are what molded me into the person I have become. These experiences have made me stronger and the challenges have caused me to appreciate my blessings that much more.



I will admit  that I am disappointed because I was unable to maintain a relationship with my mother.  However,  mom is the one who made the choice so it is her loss. She denied herself the gift of family but I have two incredible children plus an extended family who always does something special to express their affection for me, not only on Mother’s day, but on many other days throughout the year.  So this year I will again send a Mother’s day card that will not be acknowledged because, although I am my mother's daughter, I choose a different response.


After every storm comes a rainbow and I have been blessed with many rainbows. My mother's day is a special day, not because of the relationship I have with my own mother, but because of the relationship with my own children, the memories I choose to treasure, and the choices I have made on my own journey through motherhood.


“Just because a person doesn’t love you the way you want them to doesn’t mean that they don’t love you with all that they have got. “Source Unknown

Developing A Good Relationship With Oneself

"My favourite books, art pieces, films, and music, always have something jarring about them. I want art to make me think. In order to do that, it may piss me off, or make me uncomfortable. That promotes awareness and change, or at least some discussion. That is my intention. You can't move mountains by whispering at them."

  Pink

A few weeks ago I went to lunch with some ladies I know and, as I sat listening to them talk, I realized I wasn’t enjoying myself. The entire lunch consisted of conversation that was shallow and based on gossip about who isn't living life according to their standards. Life is too short to be wasting time with useless gossip and negativity so I made a graceful exit as soon as the opportunity presented itself. I have declined all invitations from them since. Unfortunately, I feel that the flavor of their conversation is a reflection of society today. There is so much going on in the world today including war, tornadoes, earthquakes, natural disasters, and an unstable political climate yet many people seem to be more focused on which celebrity is ruining his life with drugs and who is divorcing who. I have to ask myself, was mankind always this shallow or is the media simply magnifying what has always been there?

“A man wrapped up in himself makes a very small bundle.”

Ben Franklin

When a disaster causes devastation, people express grief and are determined to help until they become distracted by a new article on some celebrity’s drama. Yet, we can’t blame the media because the media only produces what sells. Society today is faced with an overload of media pop culture that spoon feeds us someone else’s idea of perfection. I think that the focus on the articles about a beautiful woman’s physical imperfection, or some famous person who is experiencing a personal trauma, are simply a reminder that they are human too and  it reassures us that no one is perfect. Insecurity seems to be the driver causing people to focus on the failures of those who are perceived to have attained a certain level of perfection in their life. It is almost as though people look for a sense of reassurance that even those who we perceive to be perfect …really aren’t.

“To wish you were someone else is to waste the person you are.” Unknown

I wonder if  people value looks, money, success, fame, and job titles because it is what they feel will provide the key to acceptance. Therefore, does society witness what they view as perfection of others and then strive to attain that same level of success thinking that this will be their key to happiness?   To be special, loved, accepted and valued are basic human needs. Ironically, we all possess the ability to have a happy, confident, fulfilled life through self-acceptance. By attempting to emulate the ideals of someone else we risk becoming a spectator in our own life often sacrificing the unique qualities that make us who we are. In order to stop being a spectator we must first be willing to accept the roles of director and leading actor in our own life.  We need to stop trying to be like everyone else and just learn to develop a good relationship with our self.

"Done looking for the critics because they are everywhere

They don't like my jeans they don't like my hair

We exchange ourselves and we do it all the time

Why do we do that? Why do we do that?"

Pink

My circle of friends are kind, intelligent, articulate people who don’t rely on designer clothes or plastic surgery to make their lives complete. We would rather spend $200 on a plane ticket to experience a new adventure than on a pair of designer jeans. When I am with my friends, we share the successes and the struggles in our lives but soon our conversations turns into lively discussions about politics, history, books, gardening tips, we share recipes, and discuss whatever new adventure we are currently pursuing. A group of us met for dinner the other evening and, as I was driving home, I realized how refreshing it was to spend the evening conversing with women who have actively taken the lead in their own lives. By  learning to accept ourselves, flaws and all, we revel in our differences rather than trying to hide them. In doing this, we have also learned to be more accepting of differences in others. Mutual interests are what bond us but it is actually the differences that keep the conversation alive. None of us are spectators to our own lives because we are too busy living our lives to be concerned about someone else's idea of perfection.

“Man sooner or later discovers that he is the master gardener of his own soul and the director of his own life.” James Allen.

The only constant in life is change. Even if we feel we have attained some level of perfection in our life, change is inevitable. Whether the change comes through a change in address, job, financial situation, divorce, death, illness, or a change in family dynamics change will come. What will strengthen us and help us navigate change is the relationship we have with ourselves. Not only does it make us stronger, happier, and more fulfilled it is also more enjoyable than trying to live a life that is just outside of our reach. Learning to have a good relationship with myself  has set me free as I am no longer restricted by thoughts, feelings, and behaviors that I once thought were mandatory. My goal is to accept who I am, have a good relationship with myself, and remember that I can’t be unique and like everyone else at the same time.

" It took me  a long time not to judge myself through someone else's eyes." Sally Field