The past is a motherfucker
It's crushing my soul
Dear Cary,
My son got married recently. He and his wife had a small ceremony at their home and then days later had a party that we were all invited to.
I reminded myself that I was just happy to be invited, as our relationship had felt so tenuous over the last few years, during which he expressed anger and sadness at his childhood and pushed away most of his family, and enmeshed himself in the family life of his (now) in-laws. It had seemed quite plausible that he may have just let me know after the event, or I would find out on social media.
Through a lot of effort on both sides, my son now calls me regularly, gives me advice on exercises I should do, podcast recommendations and asks me about financial advice and cooking tips. But I am still on eggshells.
I had my son as a single parent with minimal contact with his biological father and met his stepfather when he was still a baby. We were together for 10 years and had another child together. The relationship was rocky and at times emotionally abusive. After the relationship broke down and we divorced, my son appeared to cope well, played lots of sport, had a great friend-group and did well at school.
In his late teens and early twenties things changed.
He was overall happy - studying, working part-time, in a great relationship with the woman he ended up marrying, but at home he was moody, self-absorbed and thoughtless in how he behaved. We fought about housework, mess, communication and respect, and then he started to talk about how bad things had been growing up. It was like a delayed adolescence. His behaviour in a fourteen-year-old would have been very on-brand, but from a twenty-year-old seemed unacceptable. Over time he began to hint at how abusive his childhood had been, talk about times where his stepfather had hit him, and that no one in his family had ever loved him.
He said this last part very matter-of-factly: It's sad that his family had never loved him, specifically sad that his mother had never really loved him, but he had found his people now, and he was surrounded by love in his life. This conversation rocked me, and I struggled to say what I thought was right. I managed to say, It's hard to hear that, and I am very sorry that you have felt so unloved and that I do love you. I said that I value our relationship and I want to do better.
Since then, I have focused on listening without being defensive about how he discusses his childhood, apologizing for letting him down, but it does hurt. I find myself wanting to remind him of the good times and the efforts I made, even though I know that is my selfish ego wanting to be appreciated, so I keep quiet (maybe I vent to my close friends…).
So the wedding party day comes. There are speeches by my son and his wife. I admit I am nervous. My son's wife talks about her family very affectionately and thanks them individually and specifically for all they contributed to her life. My son starts his speech and talks very individually and specifically about all the things her family did in his life too. He hands the mike back to his wife and she hands it back to him seemingly encouraging him to continue. He says that his childhood was 'life with girls' a joking way of talking about him living with his mother and sister, and that most of what happened in the life with girls doesn't need to be talked about but he is grateful that it made him who he is today, protective and determined.
His wife then talked specifically about all the ways she appreciates our family and how much she loves us. The speeches were beautiful and heartfelt but I felt the barb of - he just publicly said that he has been shaped and strengthened by the adversity of his childhood and could not appreciate me or his sister in any other way other than living with us spurred him to become a better person. Apart from this moment the day was perfect - loving, fun, a great feeling of two families coming together to create a beautiful day and full of the hope of two people choosing each other in a turbulent world. My son was thoughtful and attentive throughout the day and appreciative of our help in setting up and cleaning up.
Will this ever stop hurting? I want to just enjoy the current situation of him calling me every couple of days and the fact that we have established a good relationship, but I will get caught up sometimes feeling resentful that my character in his life story is a neglectful mother who he has forgiven and allowed back into his life. I have sympathy for so many things that happened to him growing up but selfishly I want some more credit. Can you help me exist more naturally and happily in the now?
Mother Who Did Her Best and It Wasn't Good Enough
Dear Mother,
The past is a beast. We cannot change it. But to live in the present with that knowledge is hard. It presses on us, the past does, in its pursuit of the soul. It devours the present with its assault on the mind. It's ceaseless torment, the past is. It clouds our thinking, makes us long for the impossible. It is implacable. It is relentless. It is the devil.
Here on earth we muddle along. But the past ravages us, it wakes before we do, it accompanies us in sleep. "We will not regret the past, nor wish to shut the door on it." Now there is a condition to hope for. To not regret the past.
The route is forgiveness. Not the brief "I'm sorry I did some things I regret," but brutal confrontation with the awful sin, not in the Biblical sense but in the ordinary sense: the times we did things we're ashamed of but would like to forget; the times we acted against what we know to be our better selves; the times we let horrors go on unaddressed, allowed stronger, less principled ones to act upon the weak in ways we would have stopped, had we only the courage and the clarity of mind. We know the damage was done because the damage appears before us now in the form of recrimination from those we love.
What I mean is, the means at our daily disposal are not sufficient. You need a stronger medicine, something ancient and savage. Maybe go into the woods and howl and cry: something satisfying and savage! A spa won't do, that's for sure. It is expiation that’s called for, complete acceptance, recognition of the awful.
The image comes to mind of begging the heavens for forgiveness, howling out our shame, begging the sky, the trees, the spirits that haunt the night, and all the animals who stare through us as if they know our secret hearts. It may require a period of mourning, sackcloth and ashes, self-flagellation, whatever it takes to get through to the part of us that does things we later regret, that lashes out, that forgets, that eats out of the baby's bowl.
The phone calls, the attempts on both parts to be kind, they might help, but won’t cure the condition. The past, good or bad, eats away at the present like a parasite of time. One's past may be virtuous or criminal, full of good intentions or evil choices or just plain hard choices in tough circumstances. No matter: The past is still the past, the dead irretrievable past, the corpse of being. Not just a mirror of the present but the implacable enemy of the present. To defeat it, to emerge fully into the present, requires something else, something miraculous yet achievable, an alchemical brew of remembering and forgetting.
Oh accursed memory, supposed protector! Remember what happened last time. Remember this street, it leads to a dead end. Remember that food, it makes your bones ache. Remember that face, he's strong and cruel, won't listen to reason, comes home drunk and you never know when.
But the present beckons. It says Hey! You! Get your head out of the past! Look at the world in its splendor! Get the fuck outside and look what's in front of you! Run your hands over your body and "behold" the miraculous gift of your life ... fucking behold the world in front of you!
The route out of the past is forgiveness. You will have to find that route. Do not underestimate the depth and ugliness of the task, the difficulty of the climb. What you are suffering is not an easy thing to cure.
But the benefits of going the distance are profound. You can get to peace with the past. It requires the work of full admission: what happened, what you did, what you witnessed, what you allowed to occur. That means admitting it not just to yourself but to someone else and if there is a higher power you pray to then certainly also to that ultimate authority. I'm no preacher but in times like these, in situations like these, where there is a spiritual journey to undertake, you need all the help you can get. You wouldn't go into the woods without a guide.
You need a guide and a helping hand. Trained therapists are a blessing if it’s the right matchup. Seek out someone who has been where you have been. Seek out someone to whom you can confess the full awfulness of what you feel, what you've suffered, what you've lived through, what is haunting you.
The past can't be erased. It must be faced. When you truly face it, you will be able to forgive your son, your ex-husband, and yourself. I predict that it will happen, and though at first it will hurt, it will be a blessing.
It's just the past, but the past is a motherfucker.