Yesterday was a hard day in terms of mother-daughter relationships.
First, my relationship with my mom has always been horrible. Growing up, she was emotionally abusive. As I became an adult I forced myself to have a relationship with her so my daughter would have a relationship with her grandmother. After my dad was killed, I knew my dad would want me to help my mom out. So, I would call her often. Well, today mark’s four months since he was killed. Our phone calls have gone from daily to once a week.
I called her last night to check on her. I got to hear about how much weight she has lost – that is how she is handling dad’s death, by not eating. Which, awesome for her for loosing some weight. But she just keeps on and on and on. Talking about exactly how too big her clothes are. Talking about the new size she fits into.
Maybe I’m jealous. I am an emotional eater. I gain weight. So, maybe I am jealous. But during the entire phone call, all I could remember was my childhood and my mom making fun of me because of my weight. My mom giving me hell that she could fit into my clothes and they would be too big on her. Her always putting me on diets.
I’ve always feared my relationship with my daughter would be like the relationship I have with my mom.
Yesterday was a school dance. My daughter would not let me take any pictures of her outside of the car – talk about heartbreak scrolling on social media and seeing all the other girl’s pictures and mom’s posting about how much the girls have grown. My daughter’s best friend posted this sweet message to her mom and being thankful for having her as a mom. Thanking her for always driving her everywhere she needs to go. My daughter has so much attitude these days. I get eye rolls and go to hell looks. I get tears and screams.
I told my daughter that I remember what it is like being a teenager, but in the future she will love having the pictures. I mean, there are only a couple of pictures of me as a teenager. I try to take more pictures of my daughter and I together – even though I hate pictures of myself – because I don’t want my daughter to look back after I’m dead and wonder why there are not more pictures of us together. I hate that I do not have more pictures of my dad and I together. The last picture I have with my dad is two years do – there’s no excuse for that…