Mommie Dearest

by Christina Crawford

  The following was mailed in early fall 1973.

  Dear Mother:

  We have some unfinished business, you and I and it is with that understanding on my part that this letter is being written.

  For most of my life I have been very angry with you and felt very hurt, wounded by my relationship with you. Even now some of that anger persists. However, some very important changes have taken place that have begun to make me know how far I have traveled from that victimized, worthless, unloved child I felt myself to be. Because of the investment I have in my life, because I truly care about me and not because I hate you, it is necessary for me to express as clearly and fully as possible what my truth is.

  First and foremost, I never felt you loved me - I do not understand why you adopted me and certainly not why you then went on to acquire (for that is what happened) three other people. I guess you really wanted to love babies - who unconditionally love in return and are totally dependent and absolutely controllable. Because as soon as each of us began to be people you leveled the full measure of your angry control upon us. I grew up feeling that the thing I’d really done wrong, aside from the never ending stream of things you created, the thing you were really furious with me about - was simply being alive -existing as a human being. All the criteria you set for behavior were really designed to belie humanity, to create machines that could be easily manipulated to give you what you thought you wanted. You traded life experience for discipline, caring for total agreement, love for control and rational discussion for punishment. And systematically pushed away anyone who wouldn’t accept your way. I suspect that now you are reaping the rewards of all that and may be very alone. The world, even of your peers, had changed - and people won’t accept that anymore. Life is too important to be subjected to your behavior for very long -and the few who remain, you really cannot respect for their weakness and subservience and treat them more miserably than ever.

  You don’t have any idea who I am, or what I think or how I feel. I can understand how you could think I hate you -because anyone who treated someone the way you’ve treated me -deserves that reaction. Your image of yourself as the martyred mother, as you well know, is totally false. But perhaps its the only way you can live with what you’ve done, and is in keeping with the other projections of yourself that you attributed to me. Those qualities I heard so often as a child - selfishness, ingratitude, dishonesty, dirtiness, etc.- those weren’t me and it took me a lot of years and a lot of pain to discover that. All those second and last chances - the punishments which lasted six months, the lack of proportion between any act and it’s punishment - all that was your problem - your lack of ability or desire to be human and deal with reality as it is and not as one gigantic threat to your shaky house of cards value structure and your image of yourself.

  What I think I resent most of all is the time it’s taken to restructure my life - the fact that I’m here at all, never mind becoming the person I am, beginning to fulfill my potential, I view as nothing short of a miracle! And certainly no thanks to you. Your dedication to discipline is simply an avoidance of life. Your devotion to independence and being alone a defense against the vulnerability and fulfillment of loving closeness and being human. No doubt you thought you had good reasons in the beginning - but whatever they were, unrevised, they have not served you well in the time I’ve known you. And I really wanted you to love me. I’ve tried very hard to achieve, as an adult, a relationship with you. It was important to me and I can say with all honesty that I did everything I knew how to do - the fact that we now do not have that relationship is a loss for both of us. However, I’ve learned from the experience and I seriously wonder if you have.

  The last exchange, face to face, we had serves as an excellent example. You were kind enough to lend me the use of your L.A. apartment for a few weeks - a major step for you. What followed: the whole trip with the locksmith, changing the phone numbers - Betty saying you were coming out - to have me move, etc., and the subsequent vitriol that filtered back about the apartment being dirty, something (an outdoor ashtray as I recall) being broken and then the cessation of your “schedule” being mailed to me was all totally bizarre, unfounded in reality and thoroughly a product of your own mind, though I’m sure you had help.

  The important thing is not the stupidity and ludicrous nature of it all - it is that you chose to do that - to push me away without ever saying a word to me - and I for my part was wrong in that I didn’t call you on it instantly – that I didn’t confront you with your unreasonable behavior and in asking the obvious question of “what in the hell is going on here?” force reality and some truth into the situation - for my sake. But I allowed it to slip and slide and I’m not pleased about that - because you and I didn’t have the opportunity to see it for what it really was.

  Your method of controlling me has always been the threat of taking something away from me - it’s run the gamut from Christmas presents and “privileges” - to the attempt on your part to make it impossible for me to earn a living and therefore survive. Through it all your “love” has been put on the basis of an exchange - if I behave (do what you want) and say yes a lot - you’ll love me - but even that wasn’t a true bargain because I tried it and it didn’t work. But, mother - the time has finally come when there’s no more you can take away -I have survived and the shame of being related to you in any way has begun to be solved. Because I have been deeply ashamed of you and everything you represent as well as the person you’ve become - which has nothing to do with my ability to recognize and admire what you’ve accomplished which is Herculean and courageous.

  I remember the walks by the sea wall in Carmel, mother - I remember the poetry - I remember moments of genuine caring - that is why, I guess, I tried so hard - because underneath that angry, sadistic, insecure bitch there was a woman who was searching and struggling with her soul’s journey and capable of giving and receiving a great deal of love. That is the person I loved, wanted to be loved by and feel close to.

  Now - in the light of this reality and the knowledge of the past - with the investment of years of pain and tears and depression - my life, quite separate from you - all of your influence and most of your values, is unfolding with beauty and the joy of being alive. I am in college to finish my bachelors degree, I am in love with a man who loves me as I never believed possible and within our relationship is a mirror that is so clear it astonishes both of us.

  I think there are some real ways in which I have disappointed you, mother - but since we didn’t talk about them I don’t know for sure - it’s just a feeling. I know you’ve disappointed me -it’s been mutual in many areas. But there comes a time to clean the slate - and for me that time is here and now. For my part in hurting you throughout the years I’m deeply sorry - and hope that in your heart you will forgive me - as I forgive you - in order that I may free myself to be myself. It is sad to say goodbye to all that pain, because it was a connection, however unsatisfactory and twisted. There is a terrible sadness in becoming a sovereign adult - a sense of loss and aloneness. All those feelings are very with me now, even as I write this to you. I can see your face and I know that the tears in my eyes and the lump in my throat are only a small measure of how important you have been to me. How much I needed your love. But I have to go on now, mother - there’s a lot of life out there and I intend to participate very fully in it. That I haven’t in the past is not your fault -I wish I could have gotten my shit together sooner - but all that is superfluous.

  If ever you want to talk, I am here as an adult capable of being a friend - and though it may not immediately feel that way to you because of this letter - my heart is open. It’s important for me to let you hear that - because I am not a dependent child, not a puppet to be controlled, not a servant to do your bidding, not a fan to pay homage.

  But, whatever happens, I have done my very best to conclude this portion with honor, openness, honesty and reality - to confront my feelings with tenacity and courage and to t
ake the risks necessary for my freedom, my happiness and my effectiveness as a human being. In short, to take full possession of and responsibility for my life. There is little magnanimity in it - and a lot of pain but that is the real price for growing up. There’s still a part of me that feels momentarily like I’ve over-paid - but in the light of this past year I know that’s not true. My whole life has brought me here and that’s beautiful. I like me, I enjoy being a woman and am beginning to appreciate the real treasure of life.

  With all of my being -I hope you understand.

  Christina

  I never heard one word from her about my letter. It was mailed and never returned, so I assume she received it. But she never acknowledged my letter in any way. It was as though I had been talking into a vacuum. I might have chalked the whole thing up to another useless venture if it hadn’t been for an article published in McCall’s magazine after her death. The article was written from a series of interviews she did over the phone toward the end of her life. The last question pertained to what she might have done differently with her life. The next to the last paragraph of that article says: “It’s hard to explain, but I think I would have been an easier person. Easier on myself, to begin with, not so terribly rigid. I’d have naturally been easier on the people around me, especially the kids. There were times, I’m afraid, when I set standards for Christina and Christopher they couldn’t meet. I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy life. I did. But there has to be such a thing as working too hard and expecting everyone else to work just as hard.”

  In August 1974, I had completed three years of undergraduate work at UCLA in a little less than two years by taking 20 units a quarter and going to summer school. I graduated Magna Cum Laude with a degree in communication. September of that same year I began teaching part-time in a small business college and was accepted into the Master’s degree program at the new Annenberg School of Communication on the USC campus.

  David and I were married on February 14, 1976, in the lovely Palos Verdes home of my long time friend, Nicki, who had originally befriended me over 20 years ago at Chadwick School. I had not expected mother to attend. I had written her that we were being married though. Her handwritten letter was sent March 11, 1976.

  Christina dear -

  I am so happy that you and David were married on Valentines Day - It must have been lovely having the ceremony performed in a friend’s home in Palos Verdes - and I’m so looking forward to the photographs you are sending -

  My dearest wish is, a glorious life for you and David -

  Love

  Mother

  Perhaps it was the change that comes over you when you are really and truly loved - perhaps it is the change that comes about when you begin to be really proud of yourself and trust in those special qualities that make each of us special - perhaps it was a lot of different things coming together at the same time, but I was no longer such an angry, driven person. I was still determined, I was still stubborn, I was still strong-willed but I was no longer blaming anyone for my life. I had softened and I had humbled and I had matured. I tried to share that with mother in the letters I wrote to her. I tried to include some information about my life, my husband, the little house we’d bought and were re-doing. I told her about my stepson, about our pets. I tried to give her some idea of what my life had now become. I never asked for anything and she never sent any presents, any money on my marriage or birthday or Christmas. I continued to send birthday and Christmas presents to her as well as cards on other holidays. She thanked me for all of them.

  In August 1976 I finished the master’s program in Communication Management with a minor in business and a straight 4.0 grade point average. It was the best anyone could do. I was interviewed by several companies and started work August 11, 1976.

  Mother’s handwritten letter of congratulations was mailed on September 23, 1976.

  Christina dear

  Many congratulations on your M.A.

  I’m so happy for you, and delighted you are finding your new job such a joy -

  Much love

  Mother

  I had spoken with my sister who lived in Pennsylvania, closest to mother, on several different occasions and she’d told me that to the best of her knowledge, mother had stopped drinking completely. I wondered what mother would be like now. I realized that I’d never really known my mother without her drinking problem since I was a small child. In fact, I believe that her drinking was a major cause of many of our problems all the time I was growing up and even right through the last few years. I thought it would be nice to see mother again and know something about what she was like sober. Maybe it would be different. Of course I knew that sobriety alone didn’t solve all the problems, but maybe it would make enough of a difference that we could talk to one another without all the accusations and imaginings.

  I’d also heard that mother didn’t go out much, if at all anymore. She was no longer with Pepsi. She finally had to retire after about sixteen years with the company. That was five times longer than her marriage to Alfred Steele lasted. You had to hand it to her. She’d certainly turned that brief marriage into an entire second career. She was a shrewd and clever woman. By the time she retired in 1975 she was at least 67 years old and probably closer to 71, if grandmother’s memory could be trusted. By either public or private accounting that’s a tribute to the woman’s sheer determination and tenacity. God only knows what she had to go through during those long years, just to hold onto her position. I know only some of it, only what spilled over at the top of what she was determined to keep inside of her. In the last 19 years she’d only done seven films, several of them no more than cameo appearances. The last few were horror films that are best forgotten. The real years of glory were far, far behind her, yet still she clung to the great image, the star. Out of that image alone she built another entire career for herself and you have to admire that.

  I had made my peace with her now. I could only hope that even silently, she had made her peace with me. I had gone on to build a life that had nothing to do with who she was or the years of past pain. It was not easy walking away from the past. At first I missed it very much. Bad as it was, it was all I had ever known. It was painful giving it up. It was hard to start all over again, but not as hard as going under with the great lie standing on your head like the devil. The past is so seductive, I nearly gave up my struggle several times and went back. But, every time the temptation arose, I sat quietly with myself and thought about the years I’d left behind. Nothing in the world could make me go back there … nothing.

  David and I had moved into our little house on the half-acre and built a pool. We had a garden and fruit trees. Best of all, it was ours.

  January 5, 1977

  My dear Christina,

  Thank you so much for your Christmas card and the news of you, David and David’s son.

  Your gift of the Gucci billfold is very beautiful. The simplicity of its design is so elegant. Thank you from my grateful heart. The new pool must be a joy for all of you except perhaps Penelope “The Stalker.”

  Your job must be very interesting, and I am delighted you are enjoying it. Obviously each day is a challenge to you for accomplishment, which makes for joyous days, instead of the drudgery of going to the office each day.

  Happy New Year to the three of you - and much love.

  Mother

  We got cards for her birthday from the three of us and one for her from all our pets. My husband, David, drew wonderful cartoons of the animals on their card to her with little captions above their heads. We really had a lot of fun and sent them with all our combined love.

  The last letter I ever received from my mother was postmarked April 10, 1977, just one month before her death.

  Christina dear,

  Please forgive this very tardy note to thank you for your two adorable birthday cards. The mail had been extremely heavy this year, and without a secretary in New York, it is very difficult to keep up as I should.

>   Much love to you and David - and thank you for making my day so special by remembering.

  All love

  Mother

  The weekend before Mother’s Day, my husband and I sent flowers to both his mother and mine. I remember it was Friday morning when we ordered the spring bouquets to be delivered, one in Detroit and one in New York. He wrote the card for his mother and I wrote the one for mine. When we finished, we were standing in the kitchen. I was overcome with an incredible feeling of sorrow and loneliness for no apparent reason. Then a thought flashed through my head so strongly that I had to sit down. He asked me if I was sick, I looked so pale. I looked up at him with tears in my eyes. I could hardly get the words out of my mouth, but I knew I had to tell him. We were so very close, David and I, that it would have been wrong not to share my thoughts with him. I said very quietly, “David, I think my mother is going to die very soon.” There was nothing to base that feeling on, there was no indication from anyone that she was ill. No one had called to warn me. No one had notified any member of her family that she’d been very ill for months.

  But, my mother and I had been bound together for so many years … we had been wrapped in the karma of one another’s lives for so long … we had been through so much pain, so much soul searching agony together that it did not seem in the least bit peculiar to me that I should somehow know through a special channel of communication between us … indeed, she was now dying.

  That very same day, in New York City, mother gave away her beloved dog Princess. Mother, too, knew that she was dying.

  The Mother’s Day flowers arrived one day ahead of time, on Saturday. They were brought into her as she lay in her bed, very ill. She was told that they were from “Tina” and she said, “Oh yes, it must be Mother’s Day.” Then she requested they be placed on the television set where she could see them, even lying down.