At the end of the post, you’ll find details about this Sunday’s free class on The Daughter’s Path.
Last week I wrote about The Most Important Woman in the World.
This opened a dialogue between my mom and I, which lead to my heartfelt expression of my love for her which has been lacking for…oh…just about a decade or so (maybe even two – but pishaw, who’s counting anyway).
Tears were shed on both sides including sobbing in CJ-Ville once love broke the damn of my longheld beliefs that had formerly blocked communication and forward momentum in our relationship.
Following that, I saw The Great Gatsby with my mom this past weekend.
I watched myself be more myself than I have been in what feels like forever. It was miraculous.
I cannot remember feeling this light for this extended a period of time in the presence of my mother. I’m talking about 30 minutes before the movie and 15 minutes after the movie.
This may not seem like a lot to you, but 45 minutes void of the heart-constricting, mind-clamping, love-shattering idea that every word my mother says or might say could inflict a wound felt like freedom from bondage.
45 minutes of freedom.
When I saw her words as incoming gunfire, I dreaded asking a simple question like: “Did you like the movie?”
Why, dread, you ask?
Because it wasn’t just a damn movie review. Far from it. I thought my very being was at stake.
An answer of “No, I didn’t like the movie” would mean I had not only chosen the wrong movie and wasted her time and money but marred her happiness as well…
Which would mean I had not only just done several things wrong…
(Now just remember, I didn’t say any of this was rational.)
Which would mean I was wrong.
Wrong in my mother’s eyes.
Oh, Lordy, who wants to feel that.
That just feels like the wrongest kind of wrong there is.
But this time, on the foundation of my love for myself and her and knowing that my worth was not on the table, I was free to share anything with her and hear anything from her.
And we could just talk about a damn movie, yo! My worth, value or the wrong-ness or right-ness of my very being were not in question when the question “Did you like the movie?” was being asked or answered.
I realized that the movie in my mind starring me and my mom (where she is the enemy shooting painful verbal bullets at me) has been my own imaginary creation. If any bullets have been fired, I was pulling the trigger and the wounds were self-inflicted.
Oh, what good friggin’ news.
Mom can be mom, and I can stop shooting at myself.
And I have.
And now I can simply see a movie with my mom.
Just a movie. That’s it.
Seeing a movie with my mom is not a trial by fire to see whether I come out right or wrong.
No warfare involved. No gunfire. No bullets flying by my head. (Or hers. Yes, I may have taken aim a time or two…thousand…in the past. Don’t judge.)
And I can like the movie or not. (I did.)
And she can like the movie or not. (She didn’t.)
And I don’t have to make that mean my very core is wrong, wrong, wrong. (It doesn’t.)
And we can enjoy each other’s company for a full 45 minutes and make plans to see each other the following week. (Oh, yes, we did.)
And once again, I can be as hopeful as Jay Gatsby.
Being a daughter has been the biggest learning experience of my life.
Join me this Sunday, May 26 at 4pm PST where I discuss The Daughter’s Path and some of my own a-ha moments and journey as a daughter. Includes Q&A at the end.
All women invited. One listener on the call will be selected for a complimentary coaching session with me to work on their own role as a daughter.
There is no charge for this call.
Call details will be sent out Sunday to everyone on my list. Go here to get on the list.Read More
I’m in Master Coach Training.
Week two of seven.
Life altering a-ha moments abound.
The learning is off the hook.
I find moments where it isn’t magical.
I find moments where I want to run for the hills, where it isn’t fun, where I want to think it’s too hard or unfair, where I see myself starting to cry poor me and complain about how mean they are.
This is the part where I usually think it isn’t fun anymore, and I want to take my ball and go home, where I build a case for how someone else is wrong and where I want to watch a TV marathon or have a Burger King fish sandwich…or both. TV and Burger King.
This is the part where I think they’re all talking behind my back, and where I worry about being rejected…or enough…or if I’m being too much…or a show off.
It’s the part where I wonder like hell what they’re thinking.
(insert. deep. breath. here.)
And here comes the new part.
The is the part where I say, hey, I have no idea what they’re thinking, and I realize it’s none of my business anyway.
This is the part where I tell myself it’s not what they’re thinking that matters.
What matters is what I think.
So, what do you choose, CJ?
What are you willing to choose and prove and believe?
This is the part where you have your own back, where you’re willing to stand alone with yourself.
It’s the part where you show yourself what you’re made of, where you stare down those voices in your head. This is the part where you show yourself you’re the woman you always hoped you’d become.
This is the part where you are actually become-ing.
This is the part where it feels like
And this is the part where you keep going.
This is the part where you think you’ve fallen.
This is the part where
Over and over and over. Again.
This is the part you came for.
I wanted my mother’s approval…for a long time.
I mean a REALLY. LONG. TIME.
Like all the way up until last week.
(Did I mention I’m a grown woman?)
My mother is the one who gave me life.
She is the woman I most wanted to be like.
She is the woman I most wanted to like me.
I thought my mother was the most important woman in the world.
The most important person in the world.
As a mother, we might even think we should be the most important person or woman in our child’s world.
Or maybe we think our daughter or child is the most important person in our world.
Sometimes we equate importance in someone else’s eyes with our being important.
Especially when they are the eyes of our mother or our child.
Often we think that being unimportant in someone else’s eyes makes us unimportant.
Especially when they are the eyes of our mother or our child.
Sometimes we choose to believe that being important to our mothers or our children is more important than being important to ourselves.
I believed that for a long time.
But I don’t think that’s true anymore.
Whatever our mother or child thinks of us has no bearing on the matter of whether we matter or not.
I am the most important woman in my world.
You are the most important woman in your world.
That’s just true.
Even if I’m your daughter.
Or you’re my daughter.
Be the most important person in your world.
Because you are.
I am intrigued and inspired by the relationship we daughters have with our mothers. I’ve studied my own experience as a daughter and know that I have let my viewpoint about my mother, her life, how she sees the world, and how I think she see me to have a dramatic affect on how I have lived my own life.
There is another way.
I will be offering free classes on The Daughter’s Path where I will share my own a-ha moments and journey as a daughter. There will be time for Q&A and coaching. Enter your name and email in the box in the upper right corner if you would like to be notified of class details.
Subscribe to my blog and receive class and program announcements along with invitations to free teleclasses.