To my mother

A current autopsy of my relationship with my mom

Personal Soundtrack:

Song: Somedays

Artist: Tess Parks

Album: Beetlejuice Beetlejuice (original motion picture soundtrack)

Catherine O’Hara passed away yesterday, and it hit me in a more personal way than I could anticipate.

I knew her from “Beetlejuice” and the first two “Home Alone” films, but it was her performance and appearance particularly in the first “Home Alone” that is relevant to this. Her appearance, specifically her hair style, her clothing, and her maternal side, particularly how she speaks to Kevin in the final scene, remind me of my mother.

When I found out she died yesterday, I felt like I lost my mother.

It’s strange because I have severed ties with my mother, and feel apathy at best, and at worst resentment. I resent the way she manipulated and gaslit me on things over the years, trying to tell me who I should be, how I should dress and live, never respecting me enough to accept criticism from me while simultaneously stating she saw the two of us as friends and fellow adults, and asking for unequivocal reassurance over the years that I had a happy childhood.

Now, I will give her credit where it’s due. She had a tough start to life, growing up never knowing her biological mother while being abused by her stepmother and being raised as a pastor’s daughter (which comes with its own baggage). Later on, she fell in love with and married a charismatic southern boy, who turned out to have an unhealthy relationship with drugs, and after nearly a decade put her in the position of having to divorce him after having to work multiple jobs to support two kids and an unstable ever-born-again Christian who sold personal possessions to buy drugs since he couldn’t hold down a job. Later on, she got knocked up (intentionally on her part, as she later proudly stated) by a US Army infantryman turned Military Police (MP), and spent another decade married to the abusive and adulterous prick. She eventually got a college degree, started work at a prestigious law firm, and divorced him, before meeting and marrying a new guy.

She deserves respect and recognition for pulling herself out of that, and I gave her grace for so long for all of that. That said, the lack of respect toward me and the unstable gaslighting on a lot of matters (gaslighting both me and herself). It started getting to where I was having less patience for her lack of self-awareness until finally we reached the straw that broke the camel’s back. Knowing full well that I had cut contact with my father and even cheering this on, she decided to casually tell him about my move to the east coast. When I confronted her on this, expressing that this was my business and not hers and explaining why this wasn’t okay and why I was valid to be angry, she took the moment to make it about her and how I spoke to her “disrespectfully”. After that, I made the decision to cut ties, including closing my credit card and bank accounts which she had opened for me eons prior, and restarting new ones that had no connection to her. There was a final attempt at reconciliation, but it was disingenuous, and I gave up.

The inciting incident catalyzed a flood of bottled-up resentments that I tried to let go, and the more I processed these with my partner, the more I realized I simply did not like my mother.

To this day, most times I miss the idea of my father, who I thought he was and wished him to be, but I feel apathy toward my mother. One of the (many) reasons for this is that she did not respect the genuine me, and instead tried to force her ideas onto me.

Last year was the first time I considered reaching out to her, based on two different things. First, there was the mid-air collision at an airport near her, and I imagined for a moment how I would feel if I found out she had been on that flight. Second, and separately, I went to a briefing where it was emphasized to have one’s contacts for insurance and death notifications updated, and I pictured a moment where I ended up dead and my mother and father not finding out officially. Following the latter incident, I updated my Emergency Records to include notifications to my two parents, but added the notes that I am estranged from both parents, and my father may or may not be in prison at the time.

A few months later, my mother left a teary voicemail for me, which left me feeling awkward, like questioning if I was a bad person for making her feel this way. My partner, initially misunderstanding my reaction, encouraged me to find some way to reach out to my mother and make amends or find closure. I started to consider this, but as I thought about it, I changed my mind.

What did it for me was a phone call from my mother, about a month prior to her sharing my plans with my father. In this phone call, she essentially bragged about being a Karen and telling off a female paralegal, whom she pegged as being a gang member simply for having tattoos and being Hispanic (she didn’t appreciate me calling out her racism). Flash forward to the present, when I was considering reaching out to her, and I thought on this moment and other similar moments when she revealed such blatant prejudice. I realized, objectively, she is not a person I want to be around and have in my life.

Cut to today, as I still feel this unorthodox para-social sense of loss over a female actress whom I never knew, but who reminded me of my mother (albeit a better sanitized version of her), and part of me starts to wonder if I should reach out to my mother.

What I come back to is that, besides the fact that she is not a person I want in my life and get nothing meaningful from, it would be overly complicated resuming contact or a relationship with her, since I don’t want her back in the lives of my family (thankfully, my children don’t remember her).

One of my siblings, who still continues a relationship with our mother while also validating my grievances, asked me how I would feel about the future, of never talking to her again before she kicks the bucket. I have thought of that, much as I have about my father and a grandparent tied to him, and honestly, I don’t like it entirely, but I have to do what’s best for myself and my family.

I wish no ill will toward my parents; I wish them the best. But…they have failed to demonstrate that they deserve a relationship with me, and I don’t deserve a garbage relationship with them.

And for anyone reading who sympathizes with my parents, asking how I might feel if my own children turn the metaphorical gun on me in the future: I won’t like it, but by all means, they have the right to define their relationship with me, and if they believe I failed them and don’t deserve a relationship with them, I will do at least one honorable thing by honoring their wishes. Just as my parents are not entitled to a relationship with me and their grandkids, I am not entitled to a relationship with my kids, but am rather privileged to have one currently.

It is interesting how the death of a celebrity can get one to ponder a personal relationship.

In the extraordinary event that either of my parents come across this and identify me as the writer, I will repeat this: while I cannot forgive the wrongs and reconcile the terrible people you are, I love you and appreciate the good things you did for me, and wish the best for you.

That is a stretch on my mother. I have much I wish to say on my father in a future entry.

To those of you with problematic parents and/or parental figures, I hope this was of some value. I know not everyone is able to break away from their parents in the present, but I hope in the meantime stories like mine can provide some encouragement.

Thank you for reading.

DC