Made in her image

I just purchased “The Secret” on DVD for my mother for the holidays. I wonder; how am I related to this woman? She asked for it, so I obliged, mind you she already has the book, the audio book and now the DVD [over consumption at its best] don’t get me wrong, I love my mother. I am fiercely loyal to her and protective over her, but I seriously wonder how she spawned a child like me and if she regrets some of the decisions I have made and secretly wishes that I was different, a child she could claim, a child built in her image.
She’s had a hard life and she deserves happiness that is true. But she’s not going to find it in “the secret”. Of course I made the mistake of using this request to push her. On 1- why she couldn’t go on Amazon herself and buy it and 2- why does she need ANOTHER copy of this piece of shit? [I’m not going to even go into what the secret claims, because then I might just make my head explode with unfounded self-help nonsense] Whenever we talk about things, I always try to push her to do something, to be able to do things for herself. No she doesn’t need my father to go on the internet, yes the first few times will be challenging, but after awhile she should be able to handle it and do it faster, and won’t she feel more accomplished and satisfied if she can do it herself?
I love her, I do, but it’s hard sometimes. She wants more from her life but she is so desperately afraid of trying anything new that forces her to push herself that I always seem to get into this same fight with her.
I am independent and an aggressive go-getter. I purposefully put myself in uncomfortable situations to see if I can get out of them and learn from them. She does not; she’s slightly agoraphobic and looks towards cosmetic surgery, social acceptance, and mainstream commercialization for validation. While I do too at some points in my life, it always bothers me and while I acquiesce, I do it begrudgingly.
Example: I was born with a genetic disorder; I am missing some growth plates. One of my toes never grew, so all through adolescence I had this stumpy 4th toe that sat on the top of my foot. I was brutally protective about it while at the same time ashamed of it. It made me who I was and I didn’t want it changed. Whenever I went to the doctor my mother would always prod them about the possibility of corrective surgery and if it would have long term affects on my posture, or my development. It never would. It was just a little stumpy toe. Because of her pressure I had cosmetic surgery to fix it that required me to put two metal screws in my bones, break the bone in the middle and every day turn the device a quarter of a turn to grow the bone in the middle. The result, I can wear gorgeous heels and sandals and have no visible deformity. However, whenever people ask, I say that it was not a cosmetic procedure and that it was affecting my walk, my gait and my back alignment. This bothers me to no end. Why couldn’t she be happy with my love/hate relationship with my little toe? I know she just wanted the best, but her insistence on lies and persistence on the surgery will always bother me.
In her mind, I would have gone to college in state, gone to law school right after [a perfectly legitimate career choice] close to home of course, maybe even where my father went, and then moved a few towns over found some sort of husband and popped out 2 grandkids by now all with some low-level law career that allowed me to stay home during my kid’s first 5 years. [She has mentioned this to me, how she wants me to be able to stay home from birth to kindergarten, um, how is that possible if I am supposed to be a career woman?] Perhaps me and Mr. Suburban would have gone to Europe for our honeymoon [our first time of course] been satisfied with that level of travel, moved into a split level ranch and lived happily ever after in our cul-de-sac with our S.U.V. parked in the garage and our 401(k) collecting interest.
Unfortunately that is not the daughter she created. I travel to places that require you to get vaccinations for things I have only heard of on the Oregon Trail. I prefer spreading my love around and traveling all over this great continent to get quality ass which she never understands either and always yells at me to “keep my butt home already”. She wishes I dropped out of grad school for a more “legitimate” job that she can understand and brag about. But I am not that child. I prefer to walk the line of socially acceptable and weirdo. I’m gregarious to her social ineptitude and she never gets my sarcastic sense of humor and always thinks I am making fun of her or putting her down. I try, I really do to try to curb myself around her but it’s hard. I don’t understand her insistence of pleasing everyone. She’s leery of all people and trusts no one, yet always puts herself out there for people in this incredibly vulnerable ways that’s slightly socially awkward so of course it doesn’t go her way. Its just a weird position, to love your mother, worry about her, be sympathetic about her shortcomings, and try to help when she obviously doesn’t want to hear it from you.
She’s not going to find it in the secret though; she’s going to have to find it in herself. I know she wants more, but she needs to figure that it’s not going to come from anybody else except herself and start changing. My father and I are incredibly supportive of her, but she just looks at us with distrust. I don’t know how to handle this, sometimes its just a hard lesson and a hard smack in the face when you realize your parents have faults too and that there’s nothing you can do, or that they don’t want your two cents.
And yes, I did buy her the secret…and a part of me hopes it does work.