Tough-Love to Self-Love

As I navigate through my mom’s death, someone spoke of her own father’s passing in a way that struck me. She said, “The whole world seemed to shift for me in some way I can’t name. A before and after.”

As I enter into the days following mom’s funeral, the ‘after’ is taking shape. But it isn’t what I expected. To explain, let me start with the ‘before.’

A quote from my eulogy:
“Mom believed everyone was creative, and she was determined to draw that creative spark out of anyone who would show up at her annual Christmas Craft Party! After building confidence making an ornament, tutored by mom, some guests took on their own projects: like, learning to crochet or quilt!

Styrofoam balls, ribbons, beads, sequence, glitter, pine cones… you name it, every Christmas work station overflowed with possibilities using mom’s collected STUFF!

One year I was securing pinecones to a wire wreath form, and it was a substantial size. I’d ask mom, “how’s it looking?” She replied over and over again, “More… it needs more pine cones!” After a while, I was getting tired and my fingers hurt from the wire. “Isn’t this enough?” “No, not really,” she’d say.

I can remember feeling, like many younger sisters, “I’m NEVER enough!” It doesn’t matter how many pine cones!

But I hated that look of disappointment my mom was so good at casting out, so I’d push on. Today, that pine cone wreath hangs as a centerpiece in my home for the entire winter season!

She single-handedly taught me to push myself until I WAS ENOUGH. And THAT, is what got me on Broadway.”

In appreciation of mom’s tough-love antics, I found a positive spin. My mind held this perspective through the years, as a loving gesture of gratitude, for both of us to co-relate peacefully. But it wasn’t wholly honest. It was only half the story.

The other half of the I’m Never Enough story is recognizing how hampered our relationship truly was. In fear of being blamed for not being enough, I wasn’t free to share anything important with mom. To preserve the peace, I learned to limit what I shared of myself.

After the pressure of the funeral was over, I expected to grieve the loss of a second parent with lonely unfulfilled wishes. But instead, I’ve grown lighter and lighter. The dark cloud that hovered over me pre-funeral has lifted.

My heart feels open, my shoulders feel relaxed, my waistline feels tall. The contraction my body held to override the conflict within me has released.

I’m not worried about disappointing mom anymore. I’m not longing for her approval anymore. I’m not aggrieved by her constant scrutiny around my values.

I’m just me. Alas, the free-spirit she’d always described me as. No apologies or excuses.

I never remember feeling so light!

Grieving my mother is re-introducing me to my authenticity. It’s given me permission to be too much, not enough, or just enough. The I’m Not Enough conversation is over.

Good grief… All the self-development work, I’ve done through the years, to free myself from this conversation is suddenly felt tenfold.

Both sides of this story are true. Healing is being able to tell both sides of a story from a place of love.

Thanks mom. Your tough-love has led me to self-love. I wish the same for you.