Summary

The author grapples with the complexities of her relationship with her mother, who despite having raised her with preparedness values, seems not to take the coronavirus seriously, leading to feelings of frustration and a realization that she may not owe her mother unconditional loyalty.

Abstract

The author reflects on the strained relationship with her mother, who, despite being provided with groceries to last through social distancing, requests additional items without acknowledging the global situation. This incident triggers a broader reflection on societal expectations of children to honor their parents unconditionally, regardless of past dysfunction or abuse. The author challenges this notion, suggesting that parents who fail to treat their children well or teach them valuable life lessons do not automatically deserve their children's lifelong loyalty and respect. She emphasizes the importance of personal growth and healthy relationship building, particularly as a parent herself, and acknowledges that distancing herself from her mother's expectations allows her to heal and help others.

Opinions

The author feels that her mother's expectations are unreasonable, given the current global situation and her previous efforts to support her mother.
There is a cultural expectation that children should honor their parents, which the author finds hypocritical, as society often judges mothers harshly while also idealizing them.
The author believes that it is not a child's responsibility to cover up their parents' wrongdoings or to maintain a relationship with parents who have been abusive or neglectful.
She has come to terms with potentially being seen as an "awful daughter" because she prioritizes her mental health and well-being over her mother's demands.
The author criticizes the idea that simply giving birth or raising a child entitles a parent to unconditional loyalty from their adult children.
She takes personal responsibility for fostering a healthy relationship with her own child, contrasting this with her mother's approach.
The author has found freedom and healing in speaking openly about her childhood and parental relationship, despite societal stigma.
She suggests that maintaining distance from toxic family dynamics can be a positive choice that contributes to personal growth and emotional health.

I Am An Awful Daughter

But I’m also the daughter my parents raised.

Photo by Gardie Design & Social Media Marketing on Unsplash

The last time I saw my mom, I dropped off groceries and household goods for her to get through at least a few weeks of social distancing. I thought she understood that the world was changing and we’d all have to stay home for a while. In fact, I told her that my five year old daughter and I would be hunkering down at home too.

A few days later, after my daughter’s school closed for coronavirus concerns and I reiterated my plans to stay home, my mom texted me to say she needed groceries but couldn’t afford them. What she meant was that she wanted other food, different food.

I guess I was confused. Why was she acting like nothing in the world had changed? Hadn’t we already prepped for this?

As it turns out, my mom didn’t want me to face the “hassle” of shopping for her, but not for fear of catching or spreading the virus. Instead, she insinuated that I simply don’t like running errands for her and so she expected me to pay for her groceries on Instacart.

Don’t worry. I went ahead and paid for my mom’s order. She got those extra groceries she wanted. But I’m going to be honest that the whole thing rubbed me the wrong way and I felt a wave of emotions hit me as soon as we finished talking.

It was frustrating to see that she expected my help when I’d just been there trying to make sure she was set for at least a few weeks. And it was frustrating that she was behaving as if life would go on like usual.

For a woman who has spent my entire life preaching preparedness for the end of the world, she sure isn’t taking the coronavirus seriously.

The fact that I ever write about the difficulties with my mom has led to people accusing me of being the worst kind of daughter. From what other folks tell me, it doesn’t matter what my mom has done. Many people seem to think I owe her complete and utter loyalty simply because she “gave me life.”

Our culture has this weird fixation with children honoring their parents despite the fact that it doesn’t really value motherhood much at all. It’s a strange reality I’ve tried to grasp ever since I became a mother myself.

At one end of the spectrum, strangers judge every move a mother makes. But at the other end of it all, people push this myth of the perfect, saintly mother who can do no wrong.

There’s still a lot of stigma for coming out and talking about the abuses committed by our mothers. Many people seem to think that by talking about those things, or simply admitting that your relationship with your mother is complicated somehow makes you a traitor to your kin.

For a long time, I contested the notion that I am an awful daughter. It didn’t seem fair that children could suffer so much from unfit parents and then grow up expected to stand by those same faulty caregivers no matter what.

Relationships are complicated, I’d argue. Especially those relationships with the family you didn’t choose. You and I never asked to be here. We had no choice in how we got here or how our mothers shaped us.

I always thought it seemed silly to expect grown children to coverup for their parents' wrongdoing. And even worse to pretend that your honesty about a family member made your love any less true.

The expectations for any child to keep ugly family secrets has always bugged me. Even back when I was under great duress to keep them as a kid.

Recently, I’ve turned a corner in my relationship with my mother. Internally, at least. I’ve realized that maybe I am an awful daughter, and maybe that’s perfectly okay.

I am, after all, the daughter my parents raised in an enormous amount of dysfunction. Maybe I don’t owe my mother (or my deceased father) the loyalty that some folks insist I do.

Perhaps there’s something to be said for parents who do a shitty job of passing down family values, and then expect their children to want to spend the rest of their grown years together.

Some parents may never own up to the fact that they didn’t treat their children right. And they didn’t teach them well either.

That’s not the child’s fault (not even as they grow up), and I don’t believe it’s our responsibility to teach our parents to do better. Our biggest responsibility is to develop ourselves, move past the pain, and learn how to do better for our kids if we become parents ourselves. We have to do better so we can build healthy relationships outside of our toxic families.

For instance, as the mother of a young child, I put the onus on me to foster a healthy relationship with my child. Not her. I can’t even imagine raising my daughter into adulthood and then expecting that she be responsible for the quality of our connection.

If I never took the time and energy to know my child? If I never let her spread her wings or see a healthy relationship in real life?

I hardly think I’d have the right to demand she respect me and give me her loyalty.

It’s okay to challenge the conventional wisdom that says you must “honor your parents” regardless of what they do to you. You don’t owe your mother your undying loyalty just because she birthed you or raised you.

That doesn’t mean you need to be cruel or dismissive. Honestly, I am going to keep helping my mom out, but I’m also not going to break my back living up to her expectations, either.

And I’m done worrying about being a “good” daughter. The reality is that my parents broke my heart, broke my spirit, and wounded me in ways that few others can. I don’t say that to point myself out as a victim, nor to find pity. Plenty of people have had terrible parents.

But I’ve learned that we don’t need to live in that painful place where we allow ourselves to be controlled by people who use and abuse us. Not even when they do it in the name of love.

My mother berated me for most of my life. Called me crazy in the name of love. Told me I needed “deliverance from demons” in her twisted view of love. She did everything she could to knock me down and keep me from interacting in the “real world.” She wanted to keep me in her evangelical bubble where Jesus heals and she talked to angels.

She still wants me to believe that she hears directly from God.

If I bought into the notion that I owe my mother my loyalty to the point where I cannot be honest about what we’ve been through, I would have stayed stuck. A voiceless victim.

Instead, I’ve found the freedom to talk about my parents and childhood in a way that’s allowed me to heal, move forward, and even help other folks heal from their trauma.

So, if that makes me an awful daughter, I’m okay with that. Despite anything my parents thought about how they raised me, they didn’t offer the tools we needed to be close.

Being an awful daughter keeps me sane. And I even think it helps me grow as a mother.

I suppose that's not so awful after all.