Mothers Who Can't Love: A Healing Guide for Daughters

by Forward, Susan

“She was relentless. I worked as hard as I could to at least get good grades, but if I brought home all As and one B-plus, I lost privileges for the B. Mom drilled me in math, but it was more like a military exercise than a math lesson. She sometimes took away my allowance for wrong answers. I had chores like you wouldn’t believe, washing and cleaning and lining up the magazines just so on the spotless coffee table. But as far as she was concerned, I could never do enough.”

  SUSAN: “Maybe that gives you a little clue to what Luke’s feeling. If you can remember how awful it felt for you, I think you can get a sense of how it is for him.”

  MICHELLE: “You mean I’ve been making him feel like that? How could that even happen? My mom was an absolute tyrant.”

  One of the most common, and distressing, offshoots of a mother’s tyrannical control is bullying, which often seems to come at daughters from every direction. Michelle told me that her mother had carefully controlled what she wore to elementary school—“I was the only girl in school who wasn’t even allowed to wear pants, let alone jeans,” she said—and made her an object of ridicule.

  MICHELLE: “It was so awful. The kids made fun of me, and I was so depressed and alone. But the worst thing was that I was taunted and teased and chased by the bullies at school. It was horrible, and Mom never stood up for me. She made it happen with her stupid rules. And she never did a thing to help me—she said I had to learn to be tough. It was the worst time in my life.”

  It’s not hard to see the connection between being bullied at home as a young girl and becoming vulnerable to bullying in the outside world. Pushed to be quiet, uncomplaining, and compliant by a controlling mother, it’s natural for a child to take that role at school. She learns to be a target, and she has no skills for protecting herself. She is groomed to be passive—and bullies can tell. Many of my clients have felt the pain of bullying that made them dread going to school.

  When children have been through this kind of perfectionistic control, it’s not uncommon for them to decide that when they’re finally on their own, they’ll never again let bullies dominate them. Instead of being pushed around, they’ll do the pushing. And as adults, they start giving orders about the socks on the floor and the dishes in the sink.

  Little of this happens on a conscious level, so gaining awareness of what you’re doing is vital if you want to change. It takes motivation and commitment, and the temptation to revert to old ways of being will always be with you, but once you’ve seen your patterns, you can put in place internal mechanisms that will help you become aware of the impulse to behave like your mother—and no longer have to act on it.

  The Sadistic Controllers

  Taken to extremes, control can become out-and-out cruelty, with a mother’s rules and standards shifting constantly and harsh punishments meted out for no reason that a daughter can anticipate or understand. Cruel controllers are more than bullies. At the far end of the spectrum, some of them exhibit strong elements of sadism. They seem to derive some kind of warped pleasure from humiliating and thwarting their daughters or seeing them suffer.

  Living with a sadistic mother, daughters are constantly off balance, shamed, and often afraid, and long after they leave home, they often keep their fight-or-flight responses close to the surface. The urge to run, or to come out fighting, is a survival strategy that has served them so well, sometimes they hardly realize there are other ways to live.

  Samantha: A Legacy of Anger, Turned Inward and Out

  Samantha, an elegant twenty-nine-year-old African American who manages a sales team for a large pharmaceutical company, started our first session by telling me she’d had a confrontation at work that deeply disturbed her.

  SAMANTHA: “We have a new area manager—we’re supposed to be peers—and she’s really working my nerves. I mean, she’s good, but she acts like she’s queen and the rest of us are nothing. At a team meeting, she came really close to trashing me, setting me up as the problem when it’s actually she who’s been so disruptive and bad for morale. I pride myself on being cool and calm and never letting people see how I really feel. I’m not cold, just professional. But after that meeting, something snapped. I lost it. I was okay while she was talking about me. My face got hot, but I didn’t say anything. It was at least the second or third time she’d done it. I wanted to just stay cool because she’s new, and people like her. But in the parking lot at the end of the day, she made some joke about me and I just lit into her. It was pure rage, and to tell you the truth, I was out of control. I yelled like a crazy person… . And I got this almost high feeling. I know it scared her, but it was pretty scary for me, too.”

  I told Samantha that blowing up that way might feel good for a moment, but as she well knew, the consequences make your life worse, not better. A lot of people think that if they yell, they’re standing up for themselves; however, not only doesn’t it solve anything, but it also makes you lose your dignity and your credibility. There are so many better ways to deal with anger.

  SAMANTHA: “I know. Yelling in general freaks me out. I grew up with it, I hate it, and I just shut down when people raise their voices. I hold things in for a long time … and then I explode.”

  It’s common for people to try to stay safe by shrinking away from someone who’s yelling. For children, especially, it makes sense to shut down and try to disappear—to become less of a target. But the strong emotions they feel don’t go away. Samantha had clear memories of how terrified she’d been as a child when her mother yelled at her.

  SAMANTHA: “My mother could be … a real bitch. I’m sorry but don’t think there’s another word for it. She was full of rage. I don’t know why, really. There was plenty of money—my dad was in-house counsel for a biotech company, and she works as a lawyer for a utilities company. They’re both brilliant, and I think they expected me to be on par with them from the time I was little.

  “I remember when I was maybe three years old and Mom was trying to teach me the ABC’s. Most mothers have you sing the alphabet song and make it a game, but my mother didn’t believe in that. She came into my room and told me to say it, say it. Again! Again! I didn’t know my letters by heart, and she screamed at me so loudly I was terrified. I can still hear her voice in my head.”

  As Samantha got older, her mother’s irrational control and cruelty took on new dimensions.

  SAMANTHA: “I was always tall for my age. When I was fourteen, I made it onto the basketball team. That was my dream. We were really good, and we made it to a tournament in Boston. I was scheduled to go with my friends. I was so excited—it was going to be such a fun time. I saved every dollar I got from babysitting and bought my plane ticket. But at the last minute, my mother told me I couldn’t go because my grades weren’t good enough. I’d gotten a C on a quiz for the first time. It wasn’t even going to count! But according to her, I was going to flunk out. She said I needed the time to study, ‘not play.’ …

  “I remember sitting in my room watching the clock, hoping until the last minute she would change her mind. I still remember the moment when I knew I was going to miss the plane. I called my coach to say my mother wouldn’t let me go. He was really upset and asked to talk to Mom, but she wouldn’t get on the phone. God, Susan—there was absolutely no plausible reason for her not letting me go! My grades were fine—I had a lot of As and Bs! She just wanted to flaunt her power over me… . She could take away anything she wanted.”

  Some mothers get a kind of warped sense of satisfaction from depriving a young daughter of something she wants. And like so many daughters of sadistic controllers, Samantha fantasized about escaping.

  SAMANTHA: “When I was in junior high, I practiced packing a little backpack with everything I needed to run away. I timed myself. I could be ready in ten minutes. I don’t know where I thought I would actually go, but I needed to believe I could.”

  Her real escape, though, came when she was older, and it didn’t even require leaving home.

  THE REBEL ROUTE

&nb
sp; It’s extremely common for daughters like Samantha to “take control” of their lives and attempt to squirm out of their mothers’ rigid constrictions, rules, and punishments by rebelling.

  SAMANTHA: “My mother thought she could make me do anything she wanted, but by ninth grade, I figured out that the one thing even she couldn’t really control was my body. One of my salvations came when I was able to start dating and sleeping with boys. I had to sneak out to do it, but it was worth the risk. I figured out that I could use my body to have some sense of control over myself. I started bingeing and purging then, too. I was a serious bulimic for a long time under her roof, and she never really noticed, even when I stopped eating and looked almost anorexic.

  “I took honors classes and graduated early so I could get out of the house, but after all that, I think I spent a considerable amount of time in my life in college and after trying to hurt myself. I felt guilty and depressed a lot of the time, and the only things that really helped were having sex, getting drunk, or getting stoned. Purging was good, too. I mostly wanted to check out. I hated myself, I hated my life. But I had a friend who was going to AA, and she asked me to come to a meeting with her one night. And everything changed for me. If it hadn’t been for her, I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

  Sadly, many daughters of unloving mothers get their first taste of freedom and often destroy it by acting out self-destructively. Whether it’s with alcohol, drugs, food, sex, or all of the above, the rebel often degrades herself in a fruitless attempt to prove that her mother no longer controls her. When we are thwarted, frustrated, and punished way out of proportion to what we’ve done, it’s inevitable that enormous anger builds inside us.

  This anger may feel difficult and uncomfortable, but it can become a very good catalyst for change. When it’s not expressed appropriately, though, it can be extremely destructive. Often the anger turns into depression, which can build to the point where a daughter will do almost anything to escape the chaotic feelings inside. Some of my clients told me that they have even considered suicide. It’s a cycle of anger and despair that may well persist through adulthood.

  Self-destructive rebellion isn’t freedom, because the rebels’ choices aren’t based on building up their own confidence and self-respect. They can’t be truly free. Instead they still have their mothers in their heads and act out in ways aimed to shock and upset them. They’ve never really learned how to construct a life that reflects their own desires. Ironically, their mothers are still controlling them.

  What’s Driving the Controlling Mother?

  As I think about the many controlling mothers my clients have had, certain facts emerge clearly. These mothers seem to be very displeased with their lives. They may have come from homes in which they were, themselves, controlled and belittled by their parents. They may be controlled and put down by their husbands or bosses. Their roles or freedom may have been limited in ways they internally chafe against, but feel helpless to change. Anger, bitterness, frustration, and disappointment may well be swirling beneath a tight smile. Without some sense of empowerment, they feel lost.

  Whatever the roots of their need to control, these mothers will flex their control muscle by belittling and criticizing your appearance, choice of schools, job, partners, wedding preparations. Like so many other mothers who can’t love, the controllers make the most of your every vulnerability.

  But the control that often has the most far-reaching impact on your life comes from the patterns, reactions, and expectations your mother has implanted so successfully in you—even if you think you’ve pushed her away.

  If you’re struggling with people-pleasing, perfectionism, a tendency to bully or be bullied, or any of the other painful behaviors we’ve seen in this chapter, let me assure you that these are learned behaviors—and you can unlearn them.

  Chapter 5

  Mothers Who Need Mothering

  “I depend on you to take care of everything.”

  A mother can’t teach her daughter to navigate life if she takes to bed with a bag of M&M’s every afternoon and shuts the door, or if she’s passed out on the couch when it’s time to get the kids up and ready for school. She may not be available to cook dinner, take care of younger children, or look after herself. Whether she is depressed, alcoholic or addicted, or infantile, when she needs much more mothering than she can give, her daughter finds herself taking on the role of parent, protector, and confidante.

  For a young girl, few things are more distressing than detecting that “something’s wrong with Mom.” And with these mothers, there’s definitely something wrong.

  Mothers who need mothering frequently withdraw into their own world, abandoning their role as caretaker. They may be at home, but they’re rarely present enough to notice your accomplishments or wipe away your tears after a disappointment. Instead, they spend their days sleeping, complaining, watching TV, drinking; and daughters who’ve known nothing else rarely recognize a poignant truth—that they are essentially unmothered.

  The mothers you’ll see in this chapter are MIA—missing in action—they’ve simply checked out, putting whatever energy they have into their own survival, with very little left for tending to their daughters’ well-being.

  Most of their daughters grow up feeling tremendous pity for them and believing that it’s their job to “make everything all better”—whatever that takes. Girls who are forced into this kind of role reversal often take pride in being called “so grown-up,” “responsible,” and “wise beyond your years.” But they’ve essentially been robbed of the chance to have a healthy childhood.

  As adults, many of them pride themselves on being cool, capable, and able to take charge. They have a lifetime of practice shouldering burdens and taking on responsibilities that belong to others. It’s second nature for them to become the person others turn to for support and encouragement, and they know exactly how to be a vehicle for other people’s survival, success, and happiness. But when it comes to their own needs, they come up empty. They’ve rarely learned to put themselves, their dreams, and their own joy at the center of their lives. What they’ve mastered instead is the all-consuming art of being a caretaker.

  Telltale Signs That You Grew Up

  as a “Little Adult”

  It’s often so difficult for adult daughters to step back and see how they were put into the adult helper role. To help you recognize if this dynamic echoes your experience, I’ve created a pair of checklists to help you identify how mothering your mother shaped and influenced a significant part of your life.

  When you were a child did you:

  • Believe that your most important job in life was to solve your mother’s problems or ease her pain—no matter what the cost to you?

  • Ignore your own feelings and pay attention only to what she wanted and how she felt?

  • Protect her from the consequences of her behavior?

  • Lie or cover up for her?

  • Defend her when anyone said anything bad about her?

  • Think that your good feelings about yourself depended on her approval?

  • Have to keep her behavior secret from your friends?

  As an adult, do these statements ring true for you:

  • I will do anything to avoid upsetting my mother, and the other adults in my life.

  • I can’t stand it if I feel I’ve let anyone down.

  • I am a perfectionist, and I blame myself for everything that goes wrong.

  • I’m the only person I can really count on. I have to do things myself.

  • People like me not for myself but for what I can do for them.

  • I have to be strong all the time. If I need anything or ask for help, it means I’m weak.

  • I should be able to solve every problem.

  • When everyone else is taken care of, I can finally have what I want.

  • I feel angry, unappreciated, and used much of the time, but I push these feelings deep inside myself.

>   The cost of growing up as a “little adult” who never had the freedom to be a child is high. If your entire value as a child came from being a caretaker, you never were able to develop your individual self, enjoy the freedom of imaginative play, or learn to let down your guard and be spontaneous. There was little time or support for asking “What can I be?” or trying on different identities on your way to finding a satisfying path of your own. Instead, you trained your focus on your mother, becoming an expert in her needs rather than your own, and vigilantly trying to anticipate difficulties and step in to resolve them.

  But there is a cruel twist built into the role-reversal dynamic: It’s always a setup for failure. A young child doesn’t have the power to solve her mother’s problems—only her mother can do that. Even the biggest smile or sacrifice a child can offer can’t change Mom. But the daughter feels compelled to try. And when her efforts fall short, she can’t help feeling inadequate and ashamed. Young daughters deal with those feelings by resolving that when they’re grown, they’ll “get it right,” and as adults, they work tirelessly to do just that. They do too much for other people, give too much, help too much. It’s what psychologists call a repetition compulsion: the need to repeat old behavioral patterns with the hope of getting different results in the present than you got in the past.

  When that compulsion drives you, your life can look like an endless series of burdens to be lifted from others, a treadmill of problems to be solved. Joy, lightheartedness, and fun go missing. And it becomes difficult to distinguish love from pity, or to believe that love relationships can be reciprocal—free of the need to rescue.

  Allison: Falling for “Fixer-Uppers”

  Allison, a willowy forty-four-year-old yoga instructor with her own studio, told me she had long suffered from depression, and she wondered if she’d ever be able to have a satisfying, loving relationship with a partner. She had a history of getting involved with men she had to take care of, and she made her first appointment with me fresh from a fight with her most recent partner, Tom, the man she’d been living with for eight months. I asked her to tell me about what happened.