Mothers know best.Posted: 05/21/2012
Too bad that statement is not a “one size fits all” type of deal.
There are two types of girls: ones that get along with their moms and are practically BFF (think Gilmore Girls) and there are ones that don’t. And even at the age of 22 going on 23, I do not get along with my mother. We have never had mother-daughter dates. I never came to her when I had boyfriend problems. Although I am an open person, I have yet to tell her about stuff that I have really struggled in during my life. And unless I have come to a breaking point, I have never told her about some big parts of my life. And it has really got me wondering that maybe I will never get to tell her any of these things.
Why? Because I can’t stand the blatant disapproval she has in her eyes. And I am not a bad kid. I stress that a lot. I am not a stupid, uneducated, reckless young adult. I make calculated decisions and think about future consequences. The planning side of me. I got that from her. But I just cannot fathom the way she looks down at me as if I am not her daughter. And this is all because of the brainwashing, problematic undoing of the big guy up in the sky: Roman fucking Catholicism.
Now, I’ve bitched about this on my blog a number of times but seriously, this organized crap has seriously brainwashed my mom and because that, it is driving her apart from her children. Everyone has their own way of coping with the hard times in life but seriously, I don’t think I can digest or attempt to digest yet another minute of her chastising my “Satanic ways” all because I sleepover at my boyfriend’s place. I’ve expressed countless of times why it upsets/frustrates and most importantly, offends me but to no avail. I’ve explained and backed up my points and have listened for hours (yes, hours) on why I should “cleanse my soul”. I am polite enough to even acknowledge her view. I am even more polite to share my experiences with her yet risking the fact that she will scold me afters because I want atleast attempt to preserve the deteriorating relationship that we currently have to this present day.
But I have concluded that not only is this a religious/spiritual problem — this is also a very cultural, patriarchal and generational problem as well that I am sure other parents from third world countries (and of course their children) are deeply affected by. The Philippines is very rooted in a patriarchal system, as well as any other Asian civilization — heck, all societies were atleast originated in patriarchal form. She is very much so a traditionalist so much so that gay marriage is immoral, common law couples or even the idea of it is strictly forbidden, men should be the primary breadwinner of the household, and that the whole point of marriage is to have children. WTF? I, on the other hand, am most definitely on the liberal side of things and find those three examples disturbing and offensive. But times are changing. We are in Canada. Liberation, equality and democracy are slowly happening all around the world. I just wish this close-mindedness way of thinking will be diminshed, atleast for my mom.
Now I’m beginning to rant.
But honestly, at times when I was younger I so wished that I could share those idealistic experiences with my mom. Telling her all my secrets, going out for lunch, her watching my athletic competitions. But that is not being realistic. Everyone has their own unique experiences. And I’m still not giving up on repairing this fragile familial bond. I am, however, most definitely turning my back on Christianity. It’s not forever, but who knows. I can’t picture myself converting, “rediscovering myself”, or even being remotely interested in the subject atleast for the next few hours. Why? Because the thought of it so revolting. And that it’s completely ruined the relationship between me and my mom to the point where I can’t get a word in and she refusees to hear or acknowledge any reason as to why I may oppose it. It makes me sick.
I just wish that there was a way for her to atleast view my accomplishments and open her eyes and just see how happy I am. I wish my mom did know best, atleast for me. She thinks she does, but she has no idea. She has no idea who I am. To be honest, she knows as much as you, the reader does.
And it saddens me.