Most close to me know that I had a semi-tumultuous relationship with my mom. While I wouldn’t call us broken, we never got it quite right. When she died suddenly at 79 the hope of what we could have been died, too.
In most all of my childhood memories, she spoke in a loud, discontent voice. To be fair, we lived 3 doors down from a sand pit: for real. I’d be cranky too if 5 kids and their friends continually tracked sand all over the house. Anyway, I learned early on, don’t make mom mad. I spent most of those young years avoiding whatever I thought I should to prevent hearing voices raised.
And then I spent many adult years avoiding the shouting, too. Knowing she was aging, I decided our last conversation couldn’t be a fight, so I didn’t. Seems the more I took the calm side, the more cross my mom would become. I never really understood what I did to push her buttons. It sure wasn’t easy biting my tongue. I am glad I made that decision.
I recently tried to express my opinion to Honey and he just wasn’t getting it. I raised my voice and repeated myself. He said, “Why are you yelling at me?”
And there I was, duplicating my childhood. I’ve always said I was a good copier.
Have you ever done that? Have you ever echoed the example you never wanted to become? Yep, it happens. Once again, I must admit I am not perfect.
So I’ll keep working on me and my relationship with others and remember one more lesson from my daughter’s wedding:
Oh, and that sand pit? We found most of it underneath the carpet when it was pulled up to be replaced.
