thoughts: “When you made me do all the cooking … I felt that you must think I was responsible enough to do it, but I felt that it was a lot to ask of a little girl.”
REAL EXAMPLES OF “THIS IS HOW I FELT ABOUT IT AT THE TIME”
For most daughters, vividly recalling what their mothers did to them pulls them into a stream of feelings, and this part of the letter is designed to help them stay with those feelings for a while rather than pushing them away. It’s not uncommon for daughters to find that they’re veering into describing thoughts, not feelings, as they write, and that’s okay. But the goal is to keep returning to feelings, as Emily and Samantha do below. As I reminded Emily, “If you see yourself getting stuck in ‘I felt that,’ go back to those statements and ask: How did that make me feel?”:
FROM EMILY’S LETTER: “I felt so alone. My heart was always hurting. I felt helpless, unlovable, unwanted, unheard, and angry. I felt like I was a burden and should never have been born, and that made me feel so sad and guilty and alone. You have always been a source of pain in my life. I have always felt your resentfulness of me and my very existence. It made me feel so unloved. I hated that.”
SAMANTHA WROTE: “When I was little, I just felt helpless, bewildered, confused, and really, really frightened. I felt so alone. The older I got, the more I felt angry and ashamed for what you did to me. I felt especially furious when people who didn’t know your violent, sadistic side told me what a nice person you were, how funny and charming you were. I hated you for that because at home it was gloomy, depressing, and frightening. I felt like such a loser. I also felt like I had to keep a low profile and pretend to be doing fine at all times. I felt so isolated. I couldn’t let anyone in.”
I tell my clients to avoid self-censorship and perfectionism. This letter isn’t an entry in an essay contest. What’s crucial is unearthing and expressing the emotional truth. Every remembered feeling is valid and important to look at, and the intensity of some emotions can be surprising. There’s no need to press on if they begin to feel overwhelming, I tell daughters. There’s no rush. But honesty, as much as it’s possible to muster, is vital. Recognizing, naming, and facing the emotional demons that have been in charge for so long take away their power. Sentence by sentence, the letter helps disarm them.
Part Three: This Is How It Affected My Life
This is probably the most important section of the letter. It focuses on the connections between what happened to a daughter as a little girl and the choices she’s made since then. Most of the daughters we’ve seen in this book have reenacted much of what they grew up with without realizing it, and those are the patterns that pop to the foreground here. When I think of the links between childhood hurts and the difficulties of adulthood, I picture a long, thick rope that ties a daughter to her past and keeps her from finding the full measure of love and confidence and trust and happiness that she is entitled to. But with effort and consciousness, she can weaken that connection. Each part of this letter cuts another strand of the rope.
This part of the letter deserves thought and time. The instructions I give my clients go like this:
Describe the negative, even poisonous, lessons you learned from your mother and how they’ve affected your personal life, your professional life, and your life with yourself. What did your experiences with your mother teach you about your place in the world? How did they affect your sense of personal value and dignity? What did you learn about whom you can trust? What did you learn about love? Think about the self-defeating choices you’ve made in life and how the lessons from your mother have shaped them. You’ll make vital connections between then and now.
REAL EXAMPLES OF “THIS IS HOW IT AFFECTED MY LIFE”
Many of my clients are concerned that their letters are too long, and that reading them aloud will take up most of their session. In reality, a ten-page single-spaced letter takes a little over five minutes to read. Emily, despite her initial misgivings, found that once she started writing, she didn’t want to stop. She and the little girl inside her, whose pain had been so invisible to her mother, demanded their say. Emily’s letter to her mother was nine pages long, and her “how it affected my life” section took up nearly half. Here’s a sample of what she wrote:
“I have always lived on the fringe, like a girl looking into a playground, but never feeling as though she can participate—she is lost, disconnected, and alone. Nobody will ever stand up for her—there is no one on her side.
“I was starved for physical contact and needed to be needed. I got involved in unhealthy relationships and hated myself for doing it. I confused sex for love in a relationship, and I attracted weak men, emotional boys, perennial adolescents who refused to grow up. They had low self-esteem and little ambition. I thought I could change them… .
“I’m constantly thinking: ‘What do others want? What do they think? What do I have to do or say to make sure they are happy?’ I put my needs and wants secondary to that of others. It left me drained of energy and fatigued… . I feel as though I do not know how to be an adult. I have no foundation, no role models, no idea of how to set boundaries. I am terrified that people will see me as the disturbed person I must be, having been brought up by a cold, disturbed person.”
Here, in this section of the letter, we demolish the argument that goes “your childhood troubles with your mother are all in the past” and the advice that urges you to “just get on with your life.” Daughters like Emily are often surprised to see how little trouble they have describing how their programming has affected them and how it fuels the compulsions they’ve felt to repeat many of the unhappy events of childhood in adult life. The characters and settings change, but it’s as though there’s just one dysfunctional tune stuck on repeat in their minds, driving a dysfunctional dance that never seems to change. Futile attempts to squeeze love from an unloving mother in childhood reappear in adulthood as they struggle desperately to prove that they’re worthy of closeness, respect, and affection.
The very personal way in which each daughter falls into such patterns becomes clear as they write.
Here’s a passage from Samantha’s letter: “You yelled at me so much that I’ve always been scared to say what I wanted or demand things from people. I didn’t think I had that right. I was such a sucker for the approval of others. I have become accustomed to taking things very seriously. I am constantly occupying my mind with problems and unable to live in the moment and enjoy what is going on in the here and now. My life has become just as dull and serious as yours… .
“I have a hard time being immune to your demands, and I always feel guilty when I go my own way or do things you don’t approve of. I am so angry with myself for not having told you to leave me alone years ago. It’s like there is an invisible string tying us together and keeping me from getting on with my own life.”
The advice I give to clients who get stuck on this part of the letter goes like this: Keep looking for the tendrils that stretch from your mother into your life, the ones that have kept you enmeshed no matter how much you’ve tried to get away. This is hard work, and dumping out the stories of your life in a heap in front of you can feel daunting. Remember there’s no need to relive the experiences you’re describing. What we’re doing now is looking back and remembering.
Part Four: This Is What I Want From You Now
The first three parts of this letter have spelled out the vivid details of a mother’s unloving behavior and the lasting harm it’s done. They document the outsize amount of influence she had and continues to have, and detail the power she has claimed in her daughter’s life.
That balance of power shifts with the words This is what I want from you now. With that statement, daughters step into the role of adults who can shape their own lives. Adult daughters are not helpless and dependent anymore, and putting into words what they want from the person who hurt them so much is the beginning of empowerment.
Many daughters have not decided yet exactly what they want
their mothers to do, and how—or even if—they want the relationship with them to go forward. It doesn’t matter at this point. This is a first step, and there will be plenty of time to zero in on the options and come to more clarity about the decision. Nothing is set in stone, and a daughter has the right to change her mind.
The instructions I give my clients for this portion are simple: Just go from where you are now and experience what it feels like to state your preferences in an honest, direct way. I know that this may be scary, and I know that many daughters may never have given themselves permission to even consider changing the relationship with their mothers, because they didn’t think they had the right to do it. But the time has come to shift the balance.
I remind daughters that they have the right to decide what they want, regardless of what their mothers have taught them, and despite the admonition of relatives and friends to “Respect your mother.” I ask my clients to imagine that the sky’s the limit and anything is possible, then answer the question: What do you most want from your mother? There’s no need to have a plan or a strategy at the outset. The first step is zeroing in on a desire, knowing that it will change and evolve. What have you longed for? I ask them. What would finally make you feel free?
It may be an apology. It may be nothing. You may want your mother to stop interfering in your life, and you may want her completely out of it. The choice, I tell my clients, is yours.
EXAMPLES OF “THIS IS WHAT I WANT FROM YOU NOW”
Many daughters struggle initially with this part of the letter, but all of my clients have managed to sketch out a request, a desire, or a demand. Here are some examples of what they’ve written:
TO AN ENGULFING, OVERLY ENMESHED MOTHER: “What I want from you now is that I get to tell you what is okay to talk about and when we will see each other. In essence, I get to live my life as a normal adult. Or we will end our relationship, which will be sad and hard.”
TO A COMPETITIVE-NARCISSIST MOTHER: “For years I thought that I wanted your approval or for you to change and for us to have a healthy relationship. But amazingly, today, I want nothing from you. I just want to be left alone. I like who I am today and am working with a therapist to feel solid, whole, loving, and deserving again. I have no space in my life for you. I am also rebuilding my relationship with my siblings, and know that if I let you back, you will destroy it again. I wish it could have been different between you and me—I tried to make it so. But unless you become an active participant in healing what has happened between us, then I will have accepted that it is not going to be. I have given up the illusion of a close, loving family and parent and now give my love and attention first to myself and then to the world.”
TO A COLD, WITHDRAWN MOTHER: “What do I want from you now? Nothing. Nothing at all.”
TO AN ALCOHOLIC MOTHER: “What I want from you now more than anything is for you to LET ME LIVE MY LIFE. Leave me alone. Go get friends, hobbies, whatever you want. Stay in your room and be depressed every day. Drink yourself into a stupor. I don’t care. Just don’t call me or ever try to find me. For thirty-eight years I have tried everything I can think of to live my life and still remain in contact with you, and it doesn’t work. You can’t stop drinking or saying hurtful things. It is beyond you. So get out of my life and let me live it however I see fit. Get out of my heart, get out of my thoughts, and just live whatever life you want.”
TO A CONTROLLING, CRITICAL MOTHER: “Mom, I want you to acknowledge that you terrorized a small, defenseless child and you created a lot of damage to my soul that was really difficult to repair. I really wish you had the guts to apologize for what you did and to admit what a coward you were. I want you to see the strong, successful person I have become and understand that I have done it in spite of you, and not because of you. I want you to understand that I will do nothing more to gain your approval. I will do things my way whether you like it or not.”
I caution my clients to watch out for language that gives their power away by asking for permission or approval. Notice how the woman above, writing to her alcoholic mother, says: “I want you to let me live my life.” That sounds innocuous, and we say things like that every day, but I pointed out to her that the phrase “let me” makes her mother the warden of her life, and hands her the keys.
A far better way to express this is to say: “I’m going to live my life my way… . Without asking for your permission.” That little shift makes a huge difference.
The Power of Giving Voice to the Letter
Writing the letter brings a lifetime of memories and feelings to the surface and lets daughters examine them. That in itself is healing. But writing is only 50 percent of the work. Reading the words aloud is the other 50 percent. It releases them into the air where a daughter can literally hear them—hear herself and her truths.
It is equally important that she is sharing the truth of her life and the strength of her desire to change with someone else. It’s essential that those words be received by a person who can listen without judgment, without discounting, and without disbelief. A therapist is the obvious choice, but a loving partner can also serve this valuable function. It’s vital that the listener and witness be chosen for his or her compassion. In the reading, and the listening, come enormous strides toward regaining what was stolen from a daughter as a child.
Chapter 9
Tapping the Wisdom
in Your Anger and Grief
“I’m ready to face the feelings I’ve pushed
down for so long.”
Many intense emotions come up for daughters as they write to their mothers, laying out the facts and feelings of their history. Many significant insights surface in the process as well. Some therapists believe that insight is everything—that after the big “aha,” shifts and relief will come quickly and easily. But unfortunately, it’s not that simple. The truth is, dispelling the ghosts of the past requires navigating difficult emotional territory.
Most daughters find themselves grappling with a mixture of grief and anger as they face the truths about the woman who raised them. One of those two emotions is generally a familiar companion. Some women have a PhD in sadness and have long been in touch with the great sorrow that inevitably comes with having had inadequate mothering. They often tell me that the pain of feeling so little love from the woman who should’ve cherished and protected them was intense as they worked on their letters, and they cried many tears.
Other daughters have a powerful sense of anger, even rage, when they think of the injustice of how they were treated and how much joy and security were stolen from them when they were young because their mothers were so singularly focused on themselves.
What I point out to the women in both camps is that although the emotions seem quite different, anger and grief are two sides of the same coin, and one often hides the other. Healing requires the extraordinary power of both of these emotions, in equal measures. A daughter who wants to create a life based on her own needs, not her mother’s, will have to meld the fire in her anger and the vulnerability in her grief, allowing them to create a new kind of resilience and strength. In this chapter, you’ll see how I work with my clients to do that.
One important requirement for gaining full access to those emotions is neutralizing the guilt and shame that unloving mothers have nurtured in their daughters, who have long assumed responsibility for the way they were mistreated. I’ll show you how we lift the burden of misplaced blame and dismantle the beliefs that support it, as well.
If you feel strong enough to do some of this work on your own, remember that even though anger and grief are very strong emotions, you are in control. Go at your own pace as you use the techniques and exercises that follow, and always stop if you feel shaky. You have all the time you need to master these new skills.
Finding the Anger Behind the Grief
Allison had come to me after realizing that she’d once again fallen for a “fixer upper” of a man who had taken advantage of her strong tendency
to rescue people. We’d traced that tendency back to the years of training she’d gotten in caretaking while growing up in a role reversal with her depressed mother. (You saw our earlier sessions in the chapter on mothers who need mothering.)
Her letter to her mother detailed the way she’d been expected to keep the household running from the time she was tiny, and the way her mother had leaned on her. It also described the price Allison had paid for always holding everything together and downplaying her own feelings. When she finished reading it to me, she was tearful. “I feel so exhausted, thinking about all I had to do as a kid,” she told me. “That was so much to lay on a little girl.”
“I know, Allison,” I told her as she wiped away the tears. “There’s a lot to be sad about.” We sat silently for a moment, and then I asked her to think about other feelings she might be experiencing in the wake of reading her letter.
ALLISON: “Not a lot else. Not really … I’m just so tired, so sad. I want to scoop up the little girl I was and rescue her so she doesn’t have to take care of anyone for a change.”
SUSAN: “I think she’d be relieved. In your letter, she was pretty upset about all she had to do. Let’s take another look at the section where you described it: ‘This is how I felt about it at the time.’ There are quite a lot of feelings in there.”
ALLISON (scanning the letter): “More than I thought… . I was lonely … sad … I really resented my mom at times, I even hated her, and I felt so guilty about that. And when I kept having to give up activities and stay home to take care of everything, I was so, so angry too.”
I’m always amazed at how clearly daughters describe their emotions at that spot in the letter, and by how many suppressed emotions surface there. These letters often provide a map to the adult daughter’s inner world.
“I think many of those feelings are probably still there inside you,” I told her. “They don’t just disappear. You can free up a lot of energy by taking a look at those emotions again, and letting them out.”
Mothers Who Can't Love: A Healing Guide for Daughters Page 15
