My mother passed away from breast cancer the year I turned thirty-five. We enjoyed a close and positive relationship and so it made sense that I assumed the blessing of caring for her in my home during her final weeks. I am especially grateful that my mother and I had escaped the mother-daughter conflict so many experience. As adult mother and daughter, we spent nearly every day on the phone simply chatting. We went on all day shopping trips. She stayed with me for a week after the birth of each child and was my number one babysitter. She was my sounding board and allowed me to be hers. She was my biggest supporter and I was hers. I realize now that our relationship was somewhat unique. Since I’ve witnessed so many toxic mother-daughter relationships among people close to me, I thought sharing my story might reveal lessons I gleaned from my mother that helped me with my own daughters.
I should admit right off that my mother and I shared in the trauma caused by my alcoholic and violent father. That experience made me especially protective of my mother because I feared losing her. Those terrifying years made me grow up way too fast, taking on responsibility and an emotional support role that wasn’t healthy. Probably, as a consequence of this shared trauma, I was never the rebellious, thrill-seeking teen and she was never the control freak. Despite our awful home life, she managed to provide me with healthy boundaries and high expectations, which I met. So much so that when I graduated with my bachelor’s degree in business, I actually felt like I had fulfilled my last obligation as her child and I said so.
Soon afterward, I enrolled myself in a 12-Step program for adult children of alcoholics to help me understand my “perfectionist” tendencies and to free myself of my resentment toward my father, and to some extent toward my mother for being in an abusive relationship. I wanted to understand why I wasn’t a risk-taker and why I was hyper-responsible and so unlike many of my friends. That program led to deep conversations with my parents wherein I was able to forgive my father and to understand my mother. The person who gained the most freedom from the trauma was me. I better understood human weakness, addiction, poor decision making, co-dependency, and the release that comes from forgiveness and letting go. I truly believe that this 12-step process freed me to enjoy future relationships, not just with both my parents, but with others. It even helped me maintain a positive relationship with my ex-husband so that our kids could enjoy a wholesome relationship with their dad post-divorce. A therapist once said of the circumstances surrounding my divorce that I was too forgiving of human failures that hurt me, but I disagree. Forgiveness is about freedom from emotional baggage that leads to destructive behaviors. It doesn’t dismiss accountability nor does it cause amnesia.
Because of that 12 Step program and my mother’s honesty, we transitioned smoothly from the parent-child relationship to true friendship. She filled the role as my best friend, role model, mentor, and advisor until she fell ill. However, I’m certain my mother worried about me until the day she died. But she never allowed her worry to become a move to control me by undermining my self-confidence. I think this might be where so many of us mothers with daughters go wrong. Instead of active listening and supporting, we try to continue directing the lives of our daughters through criticism, emotional manipulation, and the withholding approval and support. I see it all the time and it damages the mother-daughter relationship. As social beings, the desire for approval never disappears and so I find that we mothers must remind our young adult daughters that their self-approval is far more important than ours.
I have two biological daughters that I raised and one step-daughter whom I did not raise. Like any good mother, I love them dearly and worry about them obsessively. I want the best for them. I want them to be safe. I want them to succeed. I want them to be healthy. I want them to be confident, independent women. As a caring mom with more life experience, I want them to avoid the problems, pitfalls, and mistakes common to being human. I also want the kind of positive mother-daughter relationship I enjoyed with my mother.
To accomplish this, I first had to realize that my daughters are not me and that we did not share an early trauma where they felt a need to protect me and to be hyper-responsible. I’m glad about that, but it did mean that our transition to friendship would be different from my mother’s and mine. I set the same healthy boundaries and high expectations my mother set for me. But what I didn’t realize until later is that my perfectionist tendencies, although never explicitly forced upon my daughters, were nevertheless perceived by them as my standard of approval.
It took several years, particularly with my oldest daughter, to undo her perception of an expectation of perfection that I never had. She “mistakenly” saw me as perfect. In many heated discussions, I had to disabuse her of the notion that I was perfect and that I expected perfection from her. I had to repeatedly insist that she didn’t need my approval, but her own. I came to realize that because of my grossly imperfect childhood, I strove to make a childhood for my children that was ideal. To her, I was “perfect” and had created a “perfect” home and a “perfect” childhood for them. So, the measure for my approval in her mind was perfection. No wonder she was the perfect child! Like me, she never rebelled and never engaged in thrill-seeking. In fact, none of my children went through rebellion, but the younger two were greater risktakers. Thankfully, they survived.
The point is that there is no such thing as a “perfect” mother. Mothers are human and human beings have an affect on other human beings without ever trying to. I’m convinced that every mother from the perspective of her daughter will need to be forgiven for something! We need to accept this as a fact and be humble enough to either seek forgiveness or accept responsibility for the harm we caused so our daughters (and sons) are emotionally free. Trying to defend ourselves or denying our shortcomings (real or perceived) only harms the relationship, poisoning any hope for a healthy adult mother-daughter friendship. Today my daughters clearly see that I am only human and we can laugh about it.
I’m grateful that I have a wonderful relationship with all three daughters. I believe that the key to our open and easy relationships is that like my mother, I resist the temptation to try to continue to parent them. I worry, but don’t control. I listen, provide advice when asked, and share my experiences. I ask questions. When I go to far, they stop me. And I let them know when I’m worried that it is because I love them and want the best for them and not because I don’t trust them. Mothers worry. That never ends. I treat them like the adults that they are and respect their decisions, keeping my mouth shut when I would make a different choice. Like my mother, I dole out unconditional love and support and express my willingness to help them if they need it without any strings attached. However, I prefer to provide loans if needed as opposed to charity because they are responsible adults and I want to avoid reverting to childhood dependency.
The mother-daughter relationship can be difficult. I think mothers harm the relationship when they seek to control instead of support during the transition from childhood to adulthood. I think daughters harm the relationship when they hold onto the past and fail to forgive the human failings of their mothers. On both sides, open communication, forgiveness, trust, and mutual respect will improve or preserve a positive mother-daughter relationship.