You're Wearing That? Understanding Mothers And Daughters in Conversation

Chapter 1 Can We Talk? Mothers and Daughters in Conversation My daughters can turn my day black in a millisecond," says a woman whose two daughters are in their thirties. Another woman tells me, "Sometimes I'll be talking on the phone to my mom, and everything's going fine, then all of a sudden she'll say something that makes me so mad, I just hang up. Later I can't believe I did that. I would never hang up on anyone else." But I also hear comments like these: "No one supports me and makes me feel good like my mother. She's always on my side." And from the mother of a grown daughter: "I feel very lucky and close with my daughter, and particularly since I didn't have a close relationship with my mother, it's very validating for me and healing." Mothers and daughters find in each other the source of great comfort but also of great pain. We talk to each other in better and worse ways than we talk to anyone else. And these extremes can coexist within the same daughter-mother pairs. Two sisters were in an elevator in the hospital where their mother was nearing the end of her life. "How will you feel when she's gone?" one asked. Her sister replied, "One part of me feels, How will I survive? The other part feels, Ding-dong, the witch is dead." The part of a daughter that feels "How will I survive?" reflects passionate connection: Wanting to talk to your mother can be a visceral, almost physical longing, whether she lives next door, in a distant state, in another countryor if she is no longer living on this earth. But the part that sees your mother as a wicked witcha malevolent woman with magical powerreflects the way your anger can flare when a rejection, a disapproving word, or the sense that she's still treating you like a child causes visceral pain. American popular culture, like individuals in daily life, tends to either romanticize or demonize mothers. We ricochet between "Everything I ever accomplished I owe to my mother" and "Every problem I have in my life is my mother's fault." Both convictions come laden with powerful emotions. I was amazed by how many women, in the midst of e-mails telling me about their mothers, wrote, "I am crying as I write this." Women as mothers grapple with corresponding contradictions. The adoration they feel for their grown daughters, mixed with the sense of responsibility for their well-being, can be overwhelming, matched only by the hurt they feel when their attempts to help or just stay connected are rebuffed or even excoriated as criticism or devilish interference. And the fact that these pushes and pulls continue after their daughters are grown is itself a surprise, and not a pleasant one. A woman in her sixties expressed this: "I always assumed that once my daughter became an adult, the problems would be over," she said. "We'd be friends; we'd just enjoy each other. But you find yourself getting older, things start to hurt, and on top of that, there are all these complications with your daughter. It's a big disappointment." Small Spark, Big Flare-up Especially disappointingand puzzlingis that hurt feelings and even arguments can be sparked by the smallest, seemingly insignificant remarks. Here's an example that comes from a student in one of my classes named Kathryn Ann Harrison. "Are you going to quarter those tomatoes?" Kathryn heard her mother's voice as she was preTannen, Deborah is the author of 'You're Wearing That? Understanding Mothers And Daughters in Conversation', published 2006 under ISBN 9781400062584 and ISBN 1400062586.