
Dear Bel,
I was brought up in a volatile household, scared of my mother.
My parents often fought – verbal and physical abuse. Arguments went on all night, so fierce at times my brother and I called the police.
Dad used self-defence to protect himself. Mum would bring up his every past transgression and I heard things no child should about their parents.
It was painful to see her hurt Dad – ripping up precious old photos of his family or disposing of thoughtful birthday presents I’d helped choose.
If she started arguing with Dad in the car, she’d get out at traffic lights so my brother and I had to walk a long way home with her. She’d threaten to leave him and tell us if we didn’t come too she’d kill herself.
I retreated into myself and couldn’t wait to leave home.
I was lucky to marry a kind, loyal, strong man. After meeting my mother, he said: ‘You’re scared of your Mum aren’t you?’
It was wonderful to be in a peaceful home with my lovely husband. He was strong enough to stand up to her, even though it caused problems at times. The only thing we’ve disagreed about is the way Mum intrudes into our lives. She’s still nasty to Dad; and when my children were young they got frightened witnessing the arguments when they stayed there overnight.
I’ve often wondered why Dad stuck it out – and don’t have an answer.
My current problem is that Mum insists on visiting us every weekend regardless of our plans, or turns up during the week, oblivious to how busy we are. She even drops in on my adult daughter uninvited, which she hates.
Mum talks incessantly about herself, repeating things – but with no interest in us. I’ve had counselling after something triggers childhood memories. This helped up to a point but I’m still at a loss with how to help her be more considerate.
Mum was a role model in how not to parent, so I brought up my children doing the opposite.
My little family is close. But the truth is, Mum spoils things, and I dread the future.
CATHY
Bel Mooney: But let me share an honest, if scary truth: I don’t see how you can ever ‘help her be more considerate’.
At the moment I’m writing a memoir (slowly… oh so slowly), therefore the power of memory is very much to the forefront of my mind.
It’s impossible for many of us to avoid remembering awful parental quarrels from our childhood and teenage years – and realising their long-term effect.
Your letter triggers such thoughts, and the conviction that parents who don’t control their conflicts have no idea of the damage they can do to their children.
Relationship experts often spout the received ‘wisdom’ that quarrelling is healthy, and it’s good for couples to let off steam.
No! Not if you think the children may be straining to hear, their whole bodies tense, hearts quailing with terror that Mummy and Daddy might hurt each other. Quit the self-indulgence, parents, and think about them, not yourselves.
Your letter, Cathy, was a detailed outpouring of stress and remembered pain that would have filled the entire space taken up by this whole column if I hadn’t (with difficulty) edited it to the bare bones.
You closed with a plea that I’d make it unidentifiable because ‘pathetic as this sounds, I am still scared of my Mum’.
I’ve done my best, but should your mother recognise the situation I advise you to face up to her, let her be angry and suggest coolly that she tries, for the first time ever, to understand how you feel.
What can she do to you, other than boycott your home? Let’s be honest, that would be a relief.
You tell me you believe your father’s excessive drinking was probably a means of escape from his hectoring, violent wife. I can easily imagine that.
It would be interesting to know what kind of home your mother came from; whether she ‘learned’ her anger and narcissism from her own parents. ‘Man hands on misery to man’, as the poet Philip Larkin wrote.
But anyway, there’s nothing you can do to change the past, and it sounds to me as if, in marrying your wonderful husband and bringing your children up in a calm, lovely home, you have armoured yourself against some of the harmful ghosts in your mind. Please remember that and allow the thought to give you strength.
But let me share an honest, if scary truth: I don’t see how you can ever ‘help her be more considerate’.
How can an aggressive, unhappy, selfish, mean-spirited young mother be transformed into a considerate old lady?
So I suggest you put ‘maternal narcissism’ into an online search engine and study what you find.
There are books for the daughters of narcissistic mothers which might help, too. You need to give yourself the tools to help you step back. Since you’ll never cut contact with her, you need to ‘grow’ your resilience.
In the meantime, is there a trick you and your husband could use – like being ‘on the way out’ when she turns up, and offering her a lift home (‘Sorry Mum, we can’t stop’)?
Your husband sounds like a wise, capable man, so see if you can develop some strategies to cope with her.
It won’t get easier (it never does), but you can become more tough.
My friend’s mixed messages baffle me
Dear Bel,
Recently, I was dating a lady I used to work with for several years. She got a new job and we started going out (we are both in our mid-30s).
After a few months we agreed to pause it for a bit. Three months later she messaged asking if I wanted to meet. I said yes – but she cancelled at the last minute with no explanation.
A few days later she apologised, saying she’d been unwell. She ended up in hospital and I let her know I’d always be there for her.
She has been in contact a few times since, suggesting we meet, but every time cancels at the last minute. One time she said I’d told a mutual friend private things; we had a row but made up. Then she sent a warm message asking if I wanted to see her – but a few hours later changed her mind again.
It’s so confusing. If it was me nagging her for contact, I’d agree to leave her alone because she’s been through a lot. But because she’s asking me, I can’t help believing she really does want to see me.
Each time she’s cancelled I’ve said not to worry and she’s replied with: ‘Thank you for being so patient.’ I’m not very experienced with relationships. Maybe I’m not being assertive enough?
AIDAN
Here is a man trying to second-guess what the woman he likes is thinking and feeling, and I strongly suggest that all the men reading this will be thinking: ‘Good luck with that!’
Actually, that’s not a light-hearted point. After 20 years of thinking very hard about people’s problems I have to conclude, with a little sadness, that the many failures of communication that lead to relationship problems are often rooted in significant differences between the sexes; rooted (perhaps) in our chromosomes.
That’s why John Gray’s 1992 book Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus was a bestseller. It states most common relationship problems between men and women are a result of fundamental psychological differences. As you feel so inexperienced, it’s worth reading as it might help you to interpret these mixed messages.
What Gray’s book doesn’t say (as its critics asserted) is that understanding is near impossible. It takes effort – but what worthwhile thing doesn’t? That’s why I’m asking you to consider that the problem has probably nothing to do with your lack of assertiveness. I’m asking you to make the leap from your own worried planet on to hers.
You told me all the details of her health problem, which of course remain private. What I will say is that I understand it completely as an issue which has struck almost at the very heart of her female identity.
She is left feeling vulnerable and unsure, and not of a mind to pursue a relationship she was already unsure about. You were colleagues, then started to see each other as more than that. But the decision to ‘pause’ was hers, wasn’t it? She then got hit by the metaphorical truck of her illness.
Recovery will take a lot of time, so I suspect the last thing she needs is to be thinking about a worried man who just longs to be of use to her. She likes you, of that you can be sure. But more than that? She really isn’t ready – if she ever will be – and that’s why she changes her mind.
She thanks you for ‘being patient’ – and be confident she pays you a big compliment in saying that. Nobody can know where this will go, but I strongly advise against being pushy. It can come across as intolerable neediness which, in turn, can look like making the situation all about you.
If you like her as much as it sounds, you will continue to be patient. I would also let her know that all you want is to be a supportive friend.
In the meantime, see other women if you can – there’s no reason not to. Being liked by others will give you more confidence.