Yesterday my family enjoyed the company of my mother and her husband. I made the effort to organize and cook a special dinner party because she, along with the help of my daughter, had made a valance for my lounge room curtains. My mother and I had a fabulous time reminiscing about our parenting skills (or lack of them) both when I was young and when my children were young. The conversation flowed freely and laughter was the order of the day.

Last night I had a dream. I dreamed I was looking after a newborn baby. I was trying to wash him but lacked the necessary skills. My mother very gently took the baby from me and sat under the shower naked and washed herself and the baby. I was the baby and I was also the anxious mother and my mother was herself. It was a very peaceful, serene dream and I woke up bathed in warmth, love and contentment. This is the sort of dream I usually have about my therapist.

But this time it was about my mother, the woman who gave birth to me as opposed to the woman who does therapy with me. The sole reason for seeing my therapist was always to reconnect with my family, my husband, my children, my work colleagues, my friends and most importantly my mother. Transference and dependency are side effects of therapy I had no idea existed all those years ago. Side effects which have worked better than the actual cure itself.

I’ve had a lot of criticism leveled at me on this website for my transference and dependency needs for my therapist, but these two phenomena were always meant to be temporary states of mind designed to get one in touch with, and resolve, childhood issues. I know not everyone has completion and closure of the stuff of their formative years, but I believe I have. My heart goes out to those who are permanently scarred from experiences far worse than I have ever suffered.

My mother is a good woman who, for all her flaws and faults, loves me dearly. Over the years we have had our fair share of fights, arguments, disagreements, estrangement, miscommunication and misunderstanding. I was always deemed to be an over-sensitive, deep-thinker who brooded and ruminated over trivial matters.

For all our ruptures, my mother was always there for me when I needed her, more in a physical sense than an emotional one. But instead of being the needy, hurt child that always seemed to get evoked around her, with the help of my therapist, I got in touch with my adult self and am able to have a better, more mature relationship with Mum. I am connecting with her at a level we are both comfortable with. My mother has changed a lot too. She divorced my father, met her new husband and is living happily ever after.

One can change one’s personality through a life-changing experience such as therapy or a love affair and for some of us that pretty much amounts to the same thing.

Comments

This post currently has 2 comments/trackbacks.
You can read the comments or leave your own thoughts.

Trackbacks

From Psych Central's website:
PsychCentral (January 18, 2010)

    Last reviewed: 17 Jan 2010