My Mother

Most women have struggled with their mothers at some point. But my fights with my mother weren’t just over unmade beds or broken curfews. They were personal, brutal, and about my dreams for a life that was far better than the one she could provide.
I wanted what most young women want: a cute apartment, a cool career, and the cash & freedom to travel. I wanted to run from the existence my mother had settled for: life in a noisy house in Louisiana that was filled with cigarette smoke & bitterness. My mother saw my ambition as a slap in her face. “You’re a snob,” she’d say when I told her about a book I was reading that I thought she’d like. Her antagonizing refrain was “Who do you think you are?” She’d punctuate it with a look of disgust & a drag on her cigarette.
As a teenager, I was jealous of friends who were close with their mothers. Some late nights, I’d take a chance & tell my mom about a crush I had. She’d be the best listener in the world. But when we fought the next day, she’d hurl my secrets back at me, reveling in the hurt look on my face. Finally, I decided I would never depend on her - or anyone else - for anything.
When I was 16, our brittle relationship reached a tipping point. It started innocently enough. Early one Sunday morning, I asked my mother to stop rummaging through my closet. She flew into a rage, screaming at me to pack up all my things & get out of her house, now. As I dragged my hot pink suitcase stuffed with all my possessions to the door, she told me never to come back. I never did.
During my early 20’s, I still called her occasionally but made certain not to tell her much about my life, even the good things - like meeting a man & building a career. As odd as it sounds, the less I revealed, the more we could talk - about the weather, what I was wearing that day, or other surface topics. I finally realized we were two very different people who wanted very different things. Or maybe we wanted the same things, but I was the one who’d figured out how to get them.
The space & time away from my mother gave me perspective on her own struggles. She was 60 when my father died, leaving her broke & alone. I’m sure she felt robbed of the life all her friends had enjoyed. I also learned that my parents didn’t have a good marriage - my father, the man I adored & always thought was a victim, wasn’t the best husband.
Now I realize that by taking her misfortunes out on me, my mother toughened me up. This person who was supposed to be my biggest ally was the very person I wound up fighting hardest against. But at least it taught me how to fight. In her own way, she pushed me to get everything I ever wanted.