My partner’s mom knows that I haven’t seen my mother in years. We’ve discussed it a couple of times.
One day, she highly recommends that I read a book in which a guy rattles on about maternal love. One excerpt did it for me. A mother’s love is unrivaled … My mother and I are connected by a marvelous bond…
Pounding temples. A creeping sense of shame. Why does she want me to read this? When people make these kinds of suggestions, I can’t help wondering if it contains a bit of “but she’s your mother.”
If my mother-in-law ever asks me about that book, I’ll simply respond, “I started it, but I’m not able to get through it.” I’ll keep my mouth shut then, because you cannot criticize your mom in our society. People assume that you’re a spoiled child and automatically side with the mother.
That’s when the necessity to desensitize kicks in. To not get mad. To understand, to not take things personally. I call that the Psychological Olympics.
This said, my mother-in-law is an awesome woman. Warm, nonjudgmental, cheerful, brave, feminine, feminist…
Oh, and she framed a picture of me, which she hung on the family portraits wall. The photo she chose was taken at her house. It was hot. I’m wearing a slightly revealing top, but in the picture, the décolleté shows a bit more of my bra than intended. The fact that she picked this photo says a lot about her, and how lucky I am to have her.
photo © https://unsplash.com/photos/5LC3PP-V-X4