5 Ways to Heal the Hurt From an Emotionally Absent Mother
Coming to the Realization that You Have an Emotionally Absent Mother
When we become parents ourselves, most of us feel a deep connection to our own moms and dads. We feel a tremendous gratitude for all they did for us. We have a new-found appreciation for the patience, effort, and loving care it took to potty train us, help us with our math homework, guide us through the awkward preteen years, and let us make our own stupid mistakes as young adults. But, for others, parenthood makes us realize that we missed out on something crucial during our childhoods – the profound emotional bond between mother and child.
When my husband and I were going through the long and painful process of getting our 3-year-old son diagnosed with autism, I started to have flashbacks of my growing-up years. Up until that point, I had placed those dreadful days in a dark corner of the closet and moved on with my life. But my mother's lack of compassion and understanding about my son stirred up unpleasant memories from the past.
Not only was she not sympathizing with the heartache I was going through – mom to mom – but she was actually downright hostile and dismissive of my feelings. She couldn't relate on other level to the intense hurt I was experiencing. More than any other time in my life I needed a mommy, but she steadfastly refused to act like one...or, perhaps, she just didn't have it in her and never had.
Dealing With a Difficult Mother Means Mothering Yourself
An emotionally absent mother is not fully present and especially not to the emotional life of the child. She may be depressed, stretched too thin and exhausted, or perhaps a bit numb. Many of these mothers were severely undermothered themselves and have no idea what a close parent-child relationship looks like. They are doing the outer things they think a mother should do, but have no clue how very big the job of mothering is.— Jasmin Lee Cori, author of
Once You Realize You Have an Emotionally Absent Mother It's Time to Take Proactive Steps to Heal
Overwhelmed by my son's diagnosis and a new baby, I didn't have time or money to attend therapy. Thanks goodness, my friend told me about Jasmin Lee Cori's The Emotionally Absent Mother, which helped me to understand my childhood and not just block it from my mind. I read it at a snail's pace -- needing to thoroughly digest one page at a time, ponder its content, and journal about it. It made me incredibly sad at times, and I often needed to put it down for days or even weeks. When finally finished, I set these five goals for myself that proved immensely helpful on my road to healing and forgiveness:
1. Find a Mother Figure.
We wound ourselves when we limit the search for a mommy to just one person – our biological mothers. The mother archetype is a universal one, depicting someone who's nurturing, caring, unselfish, and emotionally open. If our own mothers don't fulfill that role, it's essential we find someone who does – female or male, older or younger, a person who'll be there for the long haul or just for the immediate situation.
My son's occupational therapist, Nora, became my maternal figure. Although she wasn't much older than I was, she was the wiser and more experienced one who gently guided me through the autism maze. Because her teenage son had Asperger's, she spoke not only from a professional perspective but from a personal one and always with genuine kindness and concern.
While her primary job was to help my son, she never left me out of the equation. She made sure I was taking good care of myself – going to a support group for parents of children on the spectrum and having fun with my husband and baby. She reminded me to enjoy my son as a wonderful, unique kid and not just one with autism. I'm no longer in touch with Nora but remain grateful for this period when she mothered me.
Don't Get Embarrassed About Needing a Mother Figure No Matter How Old You Are
2. Mother Yourself.
I didn't treat myself well, and it was catching up to me. I didn't eat right, make time for exercise, spend time with friends, or have hobbies. I didn't feel like I deserved good treatment – not from others and not from myself. I knew changing that belief was central to improving my life.
In elementary school I was the rag-a-muffin girl whose hair needed a good brushing. In middle school I was the one with the frumpy wardrobe who needed someone to teach her about style. In high school I was the pimply teen who needed to visit a dermatologist. I never had anyone mentor me, advocate for me, champion me, be my cheerleader, or mother me. I finally decided to do all those things for myself.
Now I don't let that malicious voice in my head tear me down until I can barely function. I'm kind and gentle to myself, making time for activities that bring me peace and joy. I talk to myself like a mother talks to a child: "You've worked long enough. You're tired now and need to sleep...You need to slow down and eat a healthy meal. Nothing is more important than that." It feels good to finally have someone looking out for me.
3. Examine and Forgive.
Socrates said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.” But, for those of us with painful pasts, it's often difficult to re-visit our traumatic times. But when I started to look at how my mom's childhood related to my own, the puzzle pieces started to fit and a clear, cohesive image appeared. This is when I realized that not only did I need to forgive my mother, but that she deserved my forgiveness.
My grandparents conceived my mother to save their unhappy marriage. When their first daughter died, they contemplated divorce. But they chose to have another child, my mother, in the hopes of saving their union. It didn't work. My grandmother began to drink, eventually dying from cirrhosis of the liver. My mom got sent away to boarding school. She never had a mother figure in her life again and never experienced what it was like to live in a family until she had kids of her own.
It's no wonder she couldn't emotionally connect to her own children. She was still preoccupied with the suffering of her own childhood (and still is today, well into her 70s). When talking with my mom, I quickly realized she saw her mom's alcoholism as an act of rejection. She commented, “she choose booze over me.” My mom never took the time to learn about alcohol addiction, to attend an Al-Anon meeting, or to find answers in therapy. She didn't have a mother. She didn't mother herself. So how could she mother her children? With that insight, it was easy to forgive.
My Mother Never Connected Emotionally With Her Parents so How Could She Connect With Me?
4. If You're a Parent, Make Your Home Child-Centered.
According to Jasmin Lee Cori, many children who grew up with emotionally absent mothers didn't have “child-centered” homes. She says, “These parents didn’t supervise kids, they didn’t talk to their kids, they didn’t touch their kids, and they weren’t there when their kids came to them for help.”
In my family, our mother always had more important things to do than mothering. Her career (ironically, as an elementary school teacher) was always put ahead of us kids. We'd sit at the dinner table, and she'd tell story after story about the students in her class but never asked about our days.
As a parent, I've made a conscious effort to create a child-centered home with my sons' activities taking priority over my own. I don't burden them with adult issues like my mother did with me. She confided in me all her marital problems, work struggles, and financial concerns. I would never think of doing that with my own kids.
5. Let Yourself Feel Everything.
As a child, my mother denied my feelings again and again. If I said, “I feel sad,” she would then tell me why that couldn't possibly be true. Because she had an alcoholic mother who had died, she thought my life was perfect, and I had no right to feel anything but sheer contentment. That's when I started to stuff my emotions with food. As an adult, I concealed them with anti-depressants, leading to a robotic existence.
After getting off anti-depressants, I decided to feel every emotion for the first time in my life. It was scary because I thought my husband and kids would turn their backs on me. I thought they would tell me that my feelings were wrong just like my mom had, but they didn't. They accepted them and, therefore, accepted me.
To not have your suffering recognized is an almost unbearable form of violence.— Andrei Lankov
This Is the Book That Began My Healing
This book got me started on my journey toward healing. It took me a long time to finish it because it was overwhelming. I'd read a couple of passages and then walk away, needing time to think, journal, and cry. I saw my story here and it felt good to know I wasn't alone. I'm currently in the process of re-reading this book, wanting to understand more.
© 2016 McKenna Meyers