Looking at Myself in a Mirror
When I went out to visit my mother in December I told her I would start calling her every couple of days when I got back home. I wanted to be sure if she started having trouble again that I'd be able to get one of us kids to help her as soon as possible. She said that would be fine. We agreed that if she wanted me to cut back to a couple of times or once a week then I would do that. I'm calling her every evening now and we're both enjoying the dickens out of it. We don't talk long, 10 or 20 minutes, sometimes just 5. Mom has good days and not-so-good days. Mostly good though.
I realized today that these phone calls are probably helping me more than her. I didn't have a really close relationship with her growing up. We were quite the dysfunctional family, like most every other family. These phone calls are making us closer than we've probably ever been. I'm not saying my mom wasn't there for me before. She was always there. When I let her. When I didn't push her away.
Now I'm getting to know her as more than mom. Talking every day gives me a chance to find out about what else matters to her besides the family. Sometimes she'll start right out by telling me she's fine and everything's fine and she wants to tell me about something that happened that day or she wants to know what's going on with me for a change. By the time we finish any of our chats she's gotten me to talk a little bit about my feelings.
The other day I was putting on makeup and I thought about a time when I was a young teenager. My mother and I were going to go to the grocery store. I came out of my room and saw my mom in the bathroom putting on makeup. I asked her why do that just to go to the grocery store? She said she never goes out without rouge and lipstick at the very least. I've never been fond of wearing makeup but from now on I'm never going out without at least a little bit of rouge and lipstick.
I realized today that these phone calls are probably helping me more than her. I didn't have a really close relationship with her growing up. We were quite the dysfunctional family, like most every other family. These phone calls are making us closer than we've probably ever been. I'm not saying my mom wasn't there for me before. She was always there. When I let her. When I didn't push her away.
Now I'm getting to know her as more than mom. Talking every day gives me a chance to find out about what else matters to her besides the family. Sometimes she'll start right out by telling me she's fine and everything's fine and she wants to tell me about something that happened that day or she wants to know what's going on with me for a change. By the time we finish any of our chats she's gotten me to talk a little bit about my feelings.
The other day I was putting on makeup and I thought about a time when I was a young teenager. My mother and I were going to go to the grocery store. I came out of my room and saw my mom in the bathroom putting on makeup. I asked her why do that just to go to the grocery store? She said she never goes out without rouge and lipstick at the very least. I've never been fond of wearing makeup but from now on I'm never going out without at least a little bit of rouge and lipstick.