Mirror, Mirror

It happened about seven years ago.  I was putting the finishing touches on my make-up and hair before going out for the evening.  As I leaned back to check out my handiwork, I had a startling and gut-wrenching moment.  I looked a LOT like my mom.  


That in and of itself wasn't necessarily a bad thing.  It's just that we'd never really resembled each other.  People always said I looked like my dad and growing up, people often thought she was my sister.  


And of course, with the growing up and moving away from where she lives intentionally is the standard adult-child-rhetoric of "I'm not going to be like THAT."  It's a little disturbing when you look in the mirror and whoomp, there it is.  


I firmly believe that you cannot truly know yourself as an adult until you move away from your parents.  Crossing the country isn't necessary (although I did) but it needs to be far enough away that Mom can't drop in with an unexpected casserole or volunteer to do your laundry.  (My mother, to her credit, taught me how to do laundry when I was about 7 or 8 and said "You're going to need to know how to do this later.  Or sooner if I don't feel like doing it.")  


I left home when I was 18 to attend college.  Considering I already parented myself quite a bit, being on my own wasn't a huge shock (my freshman year roommate however, discovered cigarettes and boys after finally being released from her small bible belt town).  I reveled in being able to do things my way and on my own.  Strangely enough, I still do.  (My husband and I still giggle like 10 year olds when we eat cake for dinner.)  


As the years passed, I established an identity and a life that is very different from my mom's.  Often I wondered how it was that we shared DNA.  At some point in my late 20's, I said something to someone that nearly froze me in my tracks.  I don't remember what it was but the moment those words left my lips, I knew they were my mother's.  And that was nothing short of horrifying.  


Most of us resolve never to follow in the annoying footsteps of our parents.  Those habits or phrases that make you cringe...  we think we've effectively banished them from our psyches until, one day, unwittingly, it slips out like the tiny bit of pee that escapes when you laugh too hard.  Those moments make it difficult to argue against nature.  


I still consider myself to be very different from my mom.  But the older I get, the more I find myself saying things she would say or doing things she would do.  The biggest difficulty is being patient with her when she's being annoying and especially if it's something annoying that I've done recently.  It's like being run over by the Hypocrite Bus.  I've had to learn to bite my tongue (to the point of nearly biting it in half at times) and to be judicious about what to tell her.  I am probably over-careful of what I share and likely miss nuggets of wisdom here and there because of it.  


When I was 11 or 12, I was glued to the TV watching an episode of Donahue or Sally Jesse Raphael.  It was about people with drug problems and I found it fascinating.  There was an addiction counselor who referenced the Serenity Prayer and the words quickly appeared on the screen.  


"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference."  


I quickly read the quote and memorized it thinking my mom would appreciate hearing it.  Later when she arrived home, I eagerly recited it to her.  


"Yeah, that's a good one," she said.  "I have a better one though."  


"You do?  What is it?"  


She smiled and took a drag off of her cigarette.  


"Fuck it."  


Still good advice.