I've spent my entire life in fear of disappointing my mother. As a child, I tried to be really good, beyond expectation, because I wanted my mom's approval. When she said, "Don't...", I didn't. When she said, "Do...", I did. I knew her household expectations of me and fulfilled them to the best--or close to the best--of my abilities. I hated her disapproval. With one look, she could wither me, and I would spend the next several days, or more, trying to win back her good graces.
Recently, I've had dreams in which my mom appears, but she is deeply disappointed and frustrated with me. She gives me "the look," uses "the sigh," and martyrs herself for whatever it is I haven't done. I wake up, filled with angst, bewildered, and sad that at my ripe old age, I can't please my deceased mother.
I know many women who feel as I do; it is important to please our mothers. Guys don't seem to have that same stress on them. Maybe they do; maybe they strive their entire lives to please their fathers. I don't know. Why is it innate for us women to work so hard to please the woman who birthed us?
I've been trying to sort out my feelings. Do I have guilt over my mom's death? I don't know why I should. Is this desire to please my mom so deeply rooted that it's leaking into my dream, reminding me of my deficiencies? I'm sure there is some deep psychological reason for my disturbing dreams and my anxiety around not pleasing my mother.
The hardest part is that most of my anxiety dreams center on her displeasure with my treatment of my father. He's always getting ready to go somewhere with her, and she's angry with me for not taking better care of him. I think that's my own guilt bubbling to the surface of my conscience. I don't think I am taking good care of my father, even though he is perfectly capable of taking care of himself. I have a husband, child, and dog to care for as well. And I work full time as does my father. Really, it almost seems as though my father is working until he dies. I've made suggestions of what he can do and where he can go, but he wants to stay home. We have coffee once a week, and I try to have him for dinner once a week as well.
Inevitably, though, the guilt from which I have suffered my entire life hangs over me. I am not doing enough that is right, or so it seems. I can't seemingly organize myself to do all I feel that I need to do. My mom died with me knowing I was a huge disappointment to her, and I think that belief of mine affects me deeply, more deeply than I thought.
How does one recover from perpetual guilt?
