Mothers & Daughters

I watched a movie today.  That, in and of itself, is unusual for me.  There aren't many movies made in the 21st century in which I have any interest.  But I remembered when this particular movie came out eight years ago, it sounded good.  So, I watched Spanglish.

The description of the movie was all about the love triangle that occurs between the husband, wife and housekeeper.  While that is a large part of the plot line, when all is said and done, I found the mothers and daughters theme to be equally strong.  Maybe even a bit more.

There's all these dynamics going on between the two mothers and their daughters, but there's also the wife's mother.  There's blame, jealousy, guilt and anger.  The thing that struck me most was that it is was so typical of many mother-daughter relationships.  Of course for the movie, some things are exaggerated.  But still...

For myself, I've blamed my mother for some of my negative traits.  But it wouldn't be fair if I didn't also give her credit for some of my virtues.  When she was alive and her physicality was diminishing, I felt burdened and, sometimes, overwhelmed.  Since she's been gone, I have felt--when I've had time--adrift and purposeless.

My own daughter has, in the past, blamed me for her own quirks.  I was suffering from anxiety and depression for a couple of years before I realized it and sought help.  Another couple of years later, I had developed Bipolar Disorder.  Those were some difficult years for both of us and my biggest worry was that my daughter's well-being would be compromised by my illnesses.  It didn't help that so many members of my family pretend there is nothing wrong with me.  My mother was the only family member who tried to learn about Bipolar.  I've always been grateful to her for that.

My daughter's teen years were...well, let's just say trying would be an understatement.  During my own teen years, I was a goody-two-shoes.  Mostly because I saw what being bold and assertive did for my older sister.  I didn't want to rock the boat.

My sister not only rocked the boat, she tipped it over a lot.  She seemed very confident and self-assured.  And she wasn't afraid or ashamed to speak her mind, often to her own detriment.  My then future brother-in-law came along and they balanced each other.

I wanted my daughter to be exposed to my sister's strong personality.  We spent a lot of time together.  Especially when my daughter and I lived with my parents.  My mother was very old-fashioned and my sister was much more liberal.  I was somewhere in between on that spectrum.  My daughter ignored the spectrum altogether.  It took me a long time to even start to understand my own child during her teen years.  By the time I was getting an inkling, she was grown.

It has taken a lot of self-control--more than I thought I had--to not interfere in my daughter's life after my mom died.  Well, to not interfere more than usual, anyway. She's still my child.  I care.  But she still thinks "outside the box" in a way I cannot completely grasp.

I understand perspective.  There's the allegory of the three blind men describing an elephant while each touches a different part.  My daughter would eschew the elephant and talk to the elephant trainer.  My own need for the whole truth would be to circumnavigate the elephant, climb under and on top to try to get the whole picture, but I don't know that I would turn to the trainer and get his opinion.  The thing is, unless we combined our information, we'd each still only have part of the
picture.

Anyway, at the end of the movie, the housekeeper (who grew up in Mexico) quits her job because she's fallen in love with the husband.  Also because she sees her daughter (who's about 12 years old) buying into the upper-class way of life with all it's deception and manipulation.  She apologizes to her daughter for having to make her (the daughter) make a decision about her (the daughter's) life at such a young age.  Then she asks her daughter, "Do you really want to change your life, or do you just want to be different than me?"  Or words to that effect.  The girl thinks about it and then says she is "her mother's daughter."

I found it sad and uplifting at the same time.  Sad because I don't know what my own daughter would have said under similar circumstances.  Uplifting because no matter what my daughter thinks, she is "her mother's daughter" and nothing will ever change that.

Not even--I have discovered--death.