Becoming Friends With Mum
Growing up, I got on well enough with my mother. I knew friends who screamed at their mums and said ‘I hate you’ on many occasions, which I never did.
We weren’t, however, particularly close. We fought weekly at least, about small things and one of us always seemed to be crying. I was always a daddy’s girl and always sided with him, not to mention that I am extremely like him (read: stubborn, intolerable, bipolar) which drove my mum up the wall.
She was always there for me, despite it irritating me when I was younger. When I got my first boyfriend at 15, and my dad expressed dislike, my mum believed in me enough to not say anything. She knew I was strong enough and let me work it out by myself, that he might not be ‘the one’.
When I had my last, very bad boyfriend, she listened to me cry enough nights to come in and try to intervene. I thanked her by not confiding in her or believing that she might know a little better than me, and by staying with that boy for too long. She gave me advice over the teenage years that I chose to ignore, and although I wasn’t a mad teenager, I defied her by never doing the little things she asked of me, and not working to my potential in school, leading to constant fights and disappointment.
Then, I moved out. At 20, after a year at home after school, I was more than ready. I didn’t move far, but for the first few weeks I immersed myself in student life, and didn’t even think to call my mum. When I went home for the first time, she cried because she thought I didn’t want to be at home with her anymore. I was so surprised that she even missed me – though maybe it was just upset at being left with three boys. I know now that she knew that I wouldn’t be living at home for a long time ever again, if I could help it.
Now, I’ve been living away from home for over 2 years. And do you know what? In those last 2 years, I can count the amount of fights we’ve had on one hand. When I go home now, she wants to see me, and I want to see her. We still bicker a little, mostly because she doesn’t get my sense of humor (also Dad’s), but we actually enjoy each other’s company.
It’s her 50th birthday this month, and I took her away for a spa and relaxation weekend. And we had the best time, just the two of us. We drank wine and chatted about a lot. I didn’t tell her my deepest darkest secrets or anything, but I opened up a lot more to her than I have before. We have started to understand each other.
And, I’ve realized that now, eventually – we are friends.
Maggie is a Northern Irish student, who loves spontaneity, traveling and funny looking dogs. She spends most of her time talking about her weird dreams and is okay with becoming a cat lady. You can find her on Twitter @maggieem5 and on tumblr.
Featured Image via Shutterstock.