In continuation of yesterday’s post..
The word that keeps coming to my mind is Dissociation.
Most are lucky to have a ‘good’ mother, a role model that they can lean on and to emulate.
In my case I try really hard not to be like my mother, and therein lies my dilemma. Where is that line that stop me from being like my mother?
My mother was a walking instruction manual. She always said what I should do. Be it the way I combed my hair or the way I answered the exams. She walked in front of me, cleared the path for me to walk and didn’t even let me look on either side. She was on a mission to create 4 super successful children, her pride and joy, her reason to live and not least her crowning glory as a mother.
I have a little scar on my wrist. I got it when I was 20 years old.
The house in Bangalore had built in cupboards and there was a gap on top of the cupboard as a storage for larger items. Every time when I came back home for long breaks, I kept my bag there.
Every time my mother stood there, right next to me while I stood on the bed to keep my bag in that storage space with her hands outstretched,ready to hold me, just in case I tripped and fell down. But not before she turned off the fan and the blades stopped moving and came to a standstill !!
And then one day, I was in a hurry to get my bag and Amma was in the kitchen. She must have heard me trying to get the bag and two things happened simultaneously
Amma asking me “Did you switch off the fan?”
And the fan blade hitting my wrist..( Bhagyathinu thala poyilla!!)
It was the moment I realised how much damage my mother’s constant instructions have caused me, that I, a final year medical student was incapable of thinking before I did something.
I promised myself then that I will never do the same to my children.
Recently one of the parent I knew came over for tea and the topic of Naplan came up. Her daughter and my son are classmates. She asked her daughter who among her classmates didn’t write the tests.
Two things I learned in that conversation
1. When the daughter said the names of children who didn’t write the test, I didn’t know any of those kids. I know who my son’s friends are, but not all the kids in his class.
2. I would have never asked my son who didn’t write the Naplan. Why would I need to know?
Have I dissociated so much from my children’s life?
My mother knew the names of all my classmates. She even knew their family background ( even my medical college classmates). She knew who failed what subject each term. ( She had to know that because she was comparing me with them)
You see the dilemma? Where do I stop being like my mother?