Isabella McCall, Columnist • email@example.com
Courtesy of Pixabay.com
After she told me about her daughter, Laurel told me about her own story as a daughter.
“My mother and I were always our own type of close. We didn’t share everything, but we shared what we found most important, keeping the obscure thoughts a to our- selves. That’s the way it was my entire childhood, it only changed when I became 16. I thought I was a woman and my mother still saw me as the inexperienced girl I really was. That’s when the arguments all started. It was little things at first, things I thought were lit-
tle but my mother recognized as wheels rolling to something bigger.
“At first, I cowered before my mother with no chance of disobedience, after a while I grew rebellious. I disobeyed her, turning my back on her when she began to give me her words, ideas, verdicts. Before long we couldn’t spend a week without raising words against each other. Within a few years I was becoming an adult woman and with that I no longer needed my mom’s approval for every action, for every thought. It was odd, be- ing able to do what I wanted without seeking consent to do it. In a way I loved the freedom, but I missed the approval from her. The backup telling me I was doing the right
“She knew we were growing apart, her reason for going on leaving her to find it’s own life. It pained her and she threw the pain back at me through arguments and guilt. I did the same to her. Neither one of us had a healthy way to deal with the distance.”
“I married when I was 23, my father died when I was 26. Mom couldn’t handle life alone, she couldn’t connect to anyone. It was only a year before she ended herself.”
Laurel paused only long enough for me to push back my tears. Then she turned to me. “My daughter saved me, but I always wondered if I would become my mother when she left me”.