Anchors Away — Letting Go of Anger
“Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.”
— Buddha
Mothers can say the meanest things.
Years ago, my mom and I were chatting on the phone. We made it through the first five minutes of me telling her about my life and then fifty-five minutes of her telling me, in graphic detail, about hers — and everyone else’s she happened to cross paths with over the previous days.
Then we got on to current events, which I admit keeping up with is not always on the top of my priority list. She asked me a question about a recent event mentioned in the news.
I wracked my brain, trying to recall if I’d heard anything it. I drew a blank.
“No,” I said.
“Oh for God’s Sakes,” she snapped. “You’re an embarrassment to the family!”
Ouch.
Now, I know my mother didn’t literally mean this. Rather, she was just telling me, in her own odd way, that I should keep more up-to-date on world affairs.
As such, I could justify her comment by explaining that, despite the nasty remark, my mom is actually a loving, caring person who is very proud of me. But that’s not what this article is about.
This article is about the timing of receiving that nasty comment — and what happened next.
Although there’s never really a good time to receive a verbal jab that hurts like the dickens, my mother’s timing was particularly potent.
For I’d just spent the previous three days diligently preparing to give the keynote presentation at a workplace safety conference — about the circumstances that had led to my husband’s death, which was the result of a preventable fall at an unsafe workplace.
Being told I was an embarrassment to the family was the last thing I needed to hear at that point in time. Public speaking on any topic requires significant confidence and self-esteem. Speaking about a personal tragedy also requires courage and support.
And there was my mother, telling me I was an embarrassment to the family because I hadn’t listened to the news that week.
I was so astounded — and hurt — that I had no comeback. Instead, I quickly ended the call and then burst into tears in my kitchen. It was as if I was suddenly able to see, with painful clarity, how my mom still perceived me: as a little girl who could be controlled through cruel comments. For truth be told, that had been the status quo for much of my life up till then.
Call it an Irish temper, call it a nasty comment, call it a manipulative mother, call it what you will…verbal abuse is emotional abuse and it’s not acceptable.
So, there in my kitchen, I finally found the courage to say, “Thus far and no farther.”
But I didn’t say it to my mom — not on the phone that day nor in the weeks to follow. I said it to myself…and I meant it. I accepted that I cannot change who my mom is, what she thinks, what she says, or how she treats people.
All I can change is what I’ll put up with and how I will allow myself to be treated.
Still, I continued to cry on and off for the rest of that evening and then started again on Sunday morning. Then in an ironic twist to this story, I picked up the newspaper (better get up-to-date on current events!) and came across an article about an old anchor being found off the coast of South Carolina. Historians thought it was an anchor from the pirate, Blackbeard’s, ship.
Alongside the article, there was a photo of the anchor, moments after it was pulled from the water. You could see all sorts of sea creatures clinging to it…