She Doesn’t Like Me

It was Saturday night, a lovely spring evening in north Seattle. My sixteen year old daughter (by 2 days) had asked to attend the local high school musical production of the long-time favorite Music Man.

I bought two tickets just for the two of us to attend together.

Here are a few things I heard during the course of the evening. They set off a few stressful thoughts inside me:

  • Mom, is that what you’re wearing?
  • This concessions line is waaaaaay too long, I’m not waiting
  • Stop staring at those people!
  • Why didn’t you say Hi to her?
  • Don’t lean so close to my face to tell me something!

I was sure there was a constant stream of criticism.

Now that I read my own list, I see basic, simple communication.

Direct, blunt, to the point. No dilly-dallying around. Refreshing really.

But that night, after the last comment “Don’t lean so close to my face!” I dramatically leaned in the opposite direction, folded my arms across my chest, sitting in my chair, and pointedly looked only directly ahead at the stage.

Yes, it was that mature.

I noticed her sweet face turning towards me several times, out of the corner of my eye, looking to see how or what I might be thinking or feeling, perhaps.

But I didn’t look at her for a couple of minutes!

She doesn’t like me!

That was my painful thought. I know this is true because she’s critical, she has a tone, she tells me I’m too close, she doesn’t want to wait in line with me.

As I’ve mentioned before, one of my favorite professors said during a graduate school lecture when I was newly pregnant with my first child:

The secret to being a good parent? Be willing to be hated.

In that little tantrum moment where I pulled back and clammed up I was NOT willing to be hated.

She HAD to have a positive, wonderful opinion of me.

Yikes.

This thought has also entered my internal world with other people. God forbid anyone to have distaste for me, be repulsed, critical, upset or worried about me.

Sigh.

I sat there in the dark theater with 76 Trombones and a full stage of young actors belting their hearts out joyfully, able to simultaneously ask myself….it just sprang up really….

Who would I be without the thought that my daughter should like me? Or be one ounce different than she is?

How about those other people in my life who on the rare occasion have criticized, had a less-than-fabulous opinion, or cut off communication with me?

Who would I be without the thought that it should be different?

Quite stunning to think of this, to really imagine it with love, to develop the picture, to fill out the whole experience of allowing them all to hate me as much as they want.

As if I could control any of it.

And then….in the theater, I noticed in the story on stage that the main character Professor Harold Hill was having a transformation. He was noticing that he was enjoying, and touched, by the people around him. He was not interested in ditching and running as he always had before.

“My foot never got caught in the door before!” he exclaims on stage.

On his way out, something caught his attention. He discovered that people were aware of his limitations and false intentions and foibles,and they loved him anyway!

What if that person DOES like you? Even if it doesn’t appear that they do? What if you lived that turnaround?

“When I walk into a room, I know that everyone in it loves me. I just don’t expect them to realize it yet.” ~Byron Katie

I relaxed and stopped the distancing. I noticed how connected I felt to that darling girl, who observes so much about me.

This morning she brought me breakfast in bed for Mother’s Day. At the crack of dawn (knowing I’m an early riser, she set her alarm).

“The point is that our true nature is not some ideal that we have to live up to. It’s who we are right now, and that’s what we can make friends with and celebrate.” ~ Pema Chodron 

Much love, Grace

Mothers And Forgiveness

Today I have been thinking (again) about Mothers and Forgiveness.

I used to be frustrated with the idea of forgiveness. It seemed like forgiving meant saying it was OK that bad, mean, awful things happened and I should grin and bear it. Or I should rise above that and be a better person.

Forgiving was a sort of dangerous concept. If I “forgave” then I would be setting myself up for getting hurt again. I might get crucified…like Jesus.

No, forgiveness was not going to be for me. I’d rather resent, protect, make sure I could defend myself, and stay away forever from the source of the pain….whoever it was. It was better knowing exactly who the enemy was. And it wasn’t me!

And while we’re at it, I must NEVER FORGET what happened. I would never get fooled again into being the victim.

Of course, we’ll overlook the fact that I have to be vigilant, careful, nervous, anxious, sad, enraged or distrustful every time I think about the “perpetrator”.

The last and 8th session of Turning Relationship Hell to Heaven just occurred yesterday (and won’t start again until July). Each and every class is like a treasure box, all the participants doing the most amazing, thoughtful work from their own sweet, amazing lives.

The power of the group working together is so incredible!

It’s a microcosm of the deepest support in life, all of us journeying together, walking along the path towards a Beautiful Mystery. We all give each other ideas, where if we were stuck in our own mind we might not be able to see our stressful thoughts clearly.

So there we are are in the teleclass and many of us thinking about one person who has really bugged us, someone who has dished out a lot of pain and aggravation, someone who has been absolutely hurtful.

I love how Katie mentions that during her first years of inquiry, she worked so often on her mother. These are the thoughts Katie writes about in A Thousand Names For Joy:

  • My mother doesn’t love me
  • She loves my sister and brother more than me
  • She should invite me to family gatherings
  • If I tell the truth about what happened, she’ll deny it and no one will believe me

I can add these from my own list:

  • My mother is too angry
  • My mother is too cheerful
  • My mother gets hurt too easily
  • My mother is too critical

Katie says that she would write down her thought, as we do in the Work, one at a time. This is so, so, so, so important.

One thought at a time.

My mind is so busy, fast, and interested in proving that the other person over there (my mother) is inadequate that I can hardly take half a breath before finding 20 examples of proof at how imperfect that person has been. Images come screeching in for attention.

The mind is very chaotic. Katie suggests “you can’t stop mental chaos, however motivated you are. But if you identify one piece of chaos and stabilize it, then the whole world begins to make sense”. 

One thought at a time.

Some participants in the class still felt like the person they brought to our 8 weeks together was not their best friend. Maybe not even close.

I say, don’t try to make them be your best friend, your favorite human, the mother you always thought you wanted. Just keep noticing what your mind says that feels painful.

That’s all that is necessary. One thought at a time.

Don’t worry about whether you find the most painful thought to inquire about, or the “best” thought to question. Just watch what you are thinking, the mind will bring it to you. Write down only one. It doesn’t matter if it’s completely silly sounding, like “my mother shouldn’t have looked away”.

Just let your mind answer the questions; Is it true? Are you 100% sure? How do you react when you believe that thought? Who would you be without that thought? What is the opposite?

Forgiveness will just come along, and exactly the right time, it the most perfect way.

“Inquiry changes the world faster than you can imagine….” ~Byron Katie.  

With love, Grace

Screaming Teenage Me

Uh oh. I had steam coming out of my ears last night when talking with perhaps my favorite personal spiritual teacher, my 14 year old daughter.

I think that would not actually be called talking. Yelling is more the description.

It can be discouraging when you notice something REALLY triggers you. One moment, we were talking about her third lost bus pass….then next I am crazed because I am upset with her attitude.

Who cares about the lost bus pass! If I say we’re going to look for it, then start looking! And don’t tell ME you already LOOKED!

Today I had a lovely conversation with a woman who is currently enrolled in Turning Relationship Hell to Heaven. She has been feeling discouraged about how much her mind repeats itself and whether she can really resolve her problems by doing The Work.

It feels to some of us like that busy, busy mind just thinks of something new and clever, and meaner, to say about our “progress” as humans every day:

  • You should know better than to raise your voice or get angry by NOW
  • You are a lost cause
  • You are acting like a teenager yourself
  • After all this work, self-reflection, listening to teachers, you would think….
  • I’m going to be dead before I question all my beliefs and have peace
  • This is one long journey into CONTINUOUS HELL

Woah! That last one was so harsh, it almost made me start laughing!

If I hold myself with compassion, which is ultimately what this Work is all about, then I can gently see what I’m so afraid of or resistant to in that moment, and stop attacking myself for attacking my daughter.

I take out a pen to write down what I was thinking in that moment when the anger rose up like a geyser, like a screaming crowd gone wild.

Martin Luther King said “a riot is the language of the unheard“.

So what is it that I was not hearing when standing with my daughter talking about her lost bus pass? What are my beliefs in that moment, that I’m sure are entirely true?

  • I pay for the bus, and the money is going down the drain
  • Replacing the pass is a hassle
  • We HAVE to find it
  • She should be just as concerned as I am about finding it (she is not concerned)

The demand, control, and desire to be the ultimate dictator and have things go my way in this small moment of communication is amazing! I see how frightened I am of losing money, the unexpected, losing “things” like passes, and frightened that I’m the only one who really cares (she does not, and she should).

Suddenly as I think of the benefits as I turn around the way I see this situation:

  1. I will get to spend time with my daughter if we go get a replacement pass
  2. I see how we’re fine without the bus pass in that moment…I mean really, there is no reason in that moment to have it except to stop the thoughts that it needs to be found
  3. We get to think of creative ways to hold on to stuff, and let it go
  4. I see what it’s like for the person who lost the pass, supposedly (my daughter) to not be that freaked out about it
  5. I ask for her forgiveness, and for my own
  6. I accept that I am a regular human being…..angry, then not angry, full of love for my daughter
  7. Nothing terrible really happened, there were loud voices and two people with red faces

Keep going, everyone! Even when you think you can’t inquire yet again on the same person, event, place, condition, or thought…

“To bow to the fact of our life’s sorrows and betrayals is to accept them; and from this deep gesture we discover that all life is workable. As we learn to bow, we discover that the heart holds more freedom and compassion than we could imagine.”–Jack Kornfield

Much Love, Grace

I Want To Be One of The Good Mothers

I’m still thinking about Mothers today. What a fantastic topic!

Before I had questioned my concepts about mothering and what it should look like, I was a young mother myself.

Trying to be a “good” mother before you’ve ever questioned any of your beliefs about motherhood can be sooooooooo painful.

Here are some of the standards I expected myself to follow:

  • I should have a low, calm voice at all times with my children (ha ha)
  • They should do what I ask
  • We are late
  • The house is too messy (they should be seeing the mess just as I see it)
  • I should love playing board games, or doing art
  • I need to cook good dinners
  • My children need to know I love them every minute of every hour

It’s so exhausting trying to be a “good” mother all the time.

I want to be one of the good ones! Please Please Please! The way I reacted when I believed this thought is I read every book I could get my hands on about parenting. I thought obsessively. I felt terrible if I did something “wrong”.

But there’s a whole other way of looking at what IS. That this reality of the way your mother was, and the way you are as a mother, is just right for your path in awareness and waking up.

Your mother is the PERFECT mother for you. Your awareness of where you are not measuring up as a mother yourself is your perfect entry point for questioning what a good mother should be.

“The world is perfect. As you question your mind, this becomes more and more obvious.  Mind changes, and as a result, the world changes.  A clear mind heals everything that needs to be healed.  It can never be fooled into believing that there is one speck out of order.”~ Byron Katie ~

This means not one speck is out of order when it comes to your mother. She offers up to you what needs to be healed, in your mind. Not one speck is out of order when it comes to your own mothering. Not one.