When my mother fails to love: what helped me move on

“Until you learn the lesson, you will continue to meet the same person with a different body.” ~ Brandon Tarot

Like most girls in junior high school, I tried every cheerleader team every time there was a tryout, such as basketball, soccer, and even wrestling. And like 95% of girls, I didn’t form a team.

My kick wasn’t high enough, my split wasn’t split enough, my arm wasn’t straight enough, I couldn’t jump high enough-and Let’s really do it here: I’m not enough and I wasn’t popular enough. After all, we’re talking about junior high school.

But in the end, one ordeal came that I had half the chance: pom-pom squad. Even when I was 13, I knew I could dance. Pompoms are a group of 10-12 girls who rarely performed music choreography routines during the breaks of ice hockey games during half-time during basketball games (I loved hockey). I grew up in North Dakota).

To try pompoms, you usually get together with a few of the best girlfriends who wanted to form a team, pick a song you like, and choreograph a dance routine to that song.

Choosing the right song was very important. It needed to be a popular song that everyone could immediately recognize (Top 40, currently the best radio play time!) And needed a proper rock’n’roll beat. Dancing slowly is boring, but it’s not too fast, so it’s hard to spin, kick, or tune to the beat.

So it got through: 8th grade, the trial date was announced and the team signed up to compete. It turned out that it was myself and my friends Diane and Becky that we agreed to go that year.

I had never come up with a dance routine. All we’ve done so far was to see the dance teams of the previous year doing them, and we thought we might be able to copy some moves from them. I did. This was in 1970, and I think I chose Elton John’s song, which had a lot of broadcast time that year.

I pulled out a bright orange record player to the concrete patio behind and set it up, playing the song over and over, practicing a sequence of turns, kicks, flashy footwork, arm movements, and hip action.

This patio was right next to the back door leading from our kitchen. In retrospect, I’ve been practicing, practicing, and practicing even after my friend left for the day, so I’ve heard that playing the song must have upset my mother. ..

The day of tryout has finally arrived! It was long and nervous because we had to watch everyone else’s performance until our turn came.

We saw their nerves improve — after the painted smile froze, they disappeared completely and their eyes widened like a deer in the headlights. We saw them forgetting their steps. Turn in the opposite direction. One girl ran away before her routine was over. Some routines went smoothly and I heard a sigh of relief from us still waiting, but the misery made us completely uneasy.

I actually have no memory of how our routine went. I remember our name being called, jumping on the floor of the gymnasium, hearing the scratches on the needles on the records, and swaying like leaves until the music started. Then I sit down and then remember the polite applause. that’s it.

I watched the final team compete and waited for the judges to choose. This was the worst part of everything. The gymnasium was full of girls who wanted a shot, and I was asking if I would take that shot in front of everyone.

It was already late and the judges seemed to be taking a long time. This event took place on school night, so it’s now past 9:30 pm.

One by one, I started calling the names of the girls who joined the dance team. When they finally hesitated to say “Gale …”, I knew they were referring to me! (I always had a Polish surname that seemed to be slaughtered.)

I stood up and jumped out to the gym floor with complete shock — OH MY GOD OH MY GOD !! My girlfriend hit me on my back on the way to the floor and screamed for me I applauded. Finally, one thing I knew I was good at was the chance to be part of this group. I was the most euphoric!

I lived a little over a mile from junior high school and had to go home that night. Well, I actually ran home.I So I was so excited that I couldn’t wait to tell my mother that I had created a pompon team!I jumped into the back door around 10:30 pm

I shouted, “Mom!”

She rushed from the living room into the kitchen and raged and shouted at me. “Where was hell?”

To my surprise, I said. “You know I was in the pompom trial. I did it!”

She said. The curfew is 10 o’clock. What have you been doing all the time? “

Stunned, I tried again. “Well, you know Where I was. I am late. It wasn’t my fault. Mama, didn’t you hear me? I formed a team. “

“I don’t care about that. If I’m late, the next time I call.” Then she turned around and went to bed.

surprised. It wouldn’t have been worse if she slapped me. Literally the only thing I’ve ever competed with, they said, “Yes, Gale, you’re talented and we want you to join our team.” Don’t worry about my mother.

When I needed a message in her mind that my achievements didn’t mean anything, she said it out loud and clearly that night. Unfortunately, it left a very deep scar, so it remained with me for the rest of my life as the same message continued to be delivered over and over again.

That night I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t believe the good luck of being chosen by this elite team, so a wave of excitement continued to hit me. I remember literally chills passing through my body. I simply couldn’t relax. Then I remembered my mother’s reaction and inherited my unbelievable feelings.

How can someone do it for their daughter?How can someone do it Anyone Who gave such great news?— Is it such a terrifying wet blanket?

I never forgave her about how she treated me that night. At the end of the school year, the teacher / adviser, who was the head of the pompom corps, thought it would be a good idea to host a mother-daughter night. The girls choreographed a special routine, showed the mother what she had learned all year round, and the teacher prepared a special buffet for her. This happens one night after school. I didn’t tell my mom.

That day came and I told my mother that there was an after-school performance and I was going home late. When I got home a few hours later, she was furious and tore me. One of the other mothers called her and offered to ride the mother and daughter at night. Of course, this surprised my mother because she didn’t know anything about it, and it was embarrassing for her too. She refused to board because she wasn’t ready to go out.

Obviously, I was yelled again because of the embarrassing phone call. But this time I didn’t care. I threw my head and said, “I didn’t want to go anyway, so I didn’t talk about it.” And I went away.

The following year, I was in high school, so I tried the high school pompon unit again.That year I Only one from the whole junior high school The person who made the team. For three years in high school, I continued to form a team. In my senior year, I was the only senior on the team.

All this means that I was good at what I did. And for the four years I was playing with these girls, my mother never came to see me dancing.

I think her ugly dismissal of my team victory and my reaction to keeping her away from the mother-daughter night created a gap between us that was never repaired. The front line between us was already drawn, but the incident has firmly established them for decades to come.

Two things happened when the most important people in my life told me that I’m not a problem in nature, my achievements aren’t important: I “put a pearl in front of a pig” And started asking for verification from the wrong people and in the wrong place.

The pearl in front of the pig means this. Protected my heart by not including her in the big celebration events of my life. Due to her lack of support, I felt she wasn’t worthy of being there and wouldn’t really appreciate what I did anyway.

We have begun to live in the existence of Tit for tat. One day, when I got home from high school, I found out that she handed out my dog. She left me a note on the kitchen table. The explosive battle when she returned home that night was spectacular, as was the silent treatment around the house that lasted for several weeks.

She tried to prevent me from going to college. I said I wasted money and would go there just to “chase the boy” anyway. Four years later, when I got my Bachelor of Science, I deliberately walked the graduation ceremony and didn’t bully her, so I robbed her of her day in the sun. I wondered, “Why should she recognize her achievements?” A few years later, when I got my master’s degree, I didn’t invite her to the ceremony I attended.

The most extensive decision I made in high school was that I had no children. I was the youngest of seven in my family and only one had no children. I was afraid that I would be a mother like her, so I didn’t want to give my child such misery.

Where was my dad in all this? When I was a junior high school student, my father had surgery for a brain tumor and succeeded in removing it. But a few days later, he had a stroke, his right side was paralyzed, and he couldn’t speak. He remained in this wheelchair-bound state for the rest of his life.

This was our alcoholic father who was dishonest to my mother and physically abused her and his seven children. Our mother claimed she was the right Catholic martyr and it was her duty to take care of him at home. I’m convinced that it was this intensive care for the man she didn’t love and was scared of her that turned her into a bitter woman who was fighting me.

It took decades of hindsight and treatment for me to see and understand this, but in our daily dogfights, what I saw was her power to restrain me. It was just a woman who did everything. If she couldn’t be happy, no one would be happy.

I failed three marriages, but the last marriage lasted only nine months. My therapist helped me make sure I chose the same personality type every time. And by doing that, I was asking for my own verification. They are well reflected in me and certainly they have to see me the same qualities.

What I didn’t realize was that in a partnership with such a high-performing individual, that person wasn’t me because there was only one person who succeeded. Narcissistic personalities do not share the spotlight.

Finally, in the 1960s, I understand that loneliness does not mean loneliness. Pursuing as much passion and dreams as the rest of the year allows, I am more satisfied and fulfilled than in my life. Ultimately achieving self-acceptance and self-esteem through rigorous research and treatment was the greatest gift I could imagine.

It all started with understanding that my mother’s abuse had nothing to do with me. She made her pain shape her life. I don’t do the same. And I don’t spend time asking for verification from someone else, as I once did with my mother and three husbands. It’s natural to ask for the approval of others, but what really matters is to approve yourself.

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