Dad’s gone and I’m full of hate for my boozing, selfish mum

DEAR BEL,

MY DAD died of cancer just over two years ago. Once he needed care at home, I arranged with work that I could move in with Mum and Dad and work online for part of the week.

I realise I should have handled this better, as Dad was glad to have me there, but Mum was not.

Even before Dad became ill, I had a difficult relationship with Mum. In our teens, my sisters and I would cringe as we listened to her pick fights with Dad. She was clingy, jealous and self-absorbed.

I had to endure hours of her complaining about him when I got home from school — details too intimate for a daughter to hear about her parents’ relationship.

My sisters used to slink off, but, as the eldest, I had to endure it. At some point I felt brave enough to tell her she wasn’t being fair, that he was my dad and I loved him.

Her focus has always been inward, which means she barely asks about my life. Dad, on the other hand, was immensely proud of me and we could talk for hours.

When I spent those last few months with him, I tried hard to talk about anything but his illness. Meanwhile, Mum became a martyr to his care, complaining how exhausted she was, while pushing away offers of help.

I tried to anticipate what I could do to relieve her burden, yet knew this irritated her.

It came to a head one evening when she asked me directly if I got homesick. I replied that home is where the heart is — but she kept on at me until Dad intervened and said I’d given my answer.

Next morning, she told me she wanted time alone with him and that I was welcome to visit at the weekends. After Dad’s death, my sisters and I (and his siblings and friends) were relegated to bit parts in a play that put Mum’s grief centre stage. This all with a backdrop of her drinking to excess.

She has no sense of selfawareness, so never thinks to curtail her drinking to save her children from public embarrassment. My recent 50th was dominated by keeping her from harm and putting her to bed.

I tend not to hold grudges, but with Mum I can’t shake off something close to hate — since I spent more time crying over the way she treated me than I did for my dying father.

I’m angry when she comments that our [me and my sisters’] loss isn’t as crippling as hers, and so on. How do I get to be a good daughter when I have to brace myself to call her and don’t want to visit her on my own?

The loss of Dad has proved he was the glue between me and Mum and now there’s nothing. Will there be peace in accepting our relationship will always be fractured? SHARON

The loss of your beloved father sounds as keenly painful to you two years on as it was at the time, and I am so sorry to read of your grief.

The point is, your feelings are made so much worse because of this dysfunctional motherdaughter relationship.

Your unedited letter was so full of anger it worries me that you obviously find it almost impossible to process these feelings. So the first inevitable question: have you thought of having counselling?

I could recommend excellent books on grief, but it does sound to me as if you would benefit from some one-toone conversations with a therapist who could help you unpick your complicated feelings about the mother, who put an intolerable burden on you when you were a teenager.

As you say, no parent should burden a child with his or her intimate relationship problems.

At a relatively young age, you began to see your mother’s faults clearly and take sides, preferring your father. That is understandable — even natural.

But it’s a great pity your hostility towards your mother developed to such an extent that she did not want

your help when your father was dying and even sent you away.

You make it sound as if the feelings of anger and rejection were all one way, ie, from her to you. But to be fair, I doubt this was actually the case. As the saying goes, it takes two . . .

What’s more, you did make it clear in your original letter that somehow you were at fault for not making sure your mother actually wanted you at home.

Perhaps, with hindsight, you know you rode roughshod over her feelings? Honestly, I believe it would be hugely beneficial to you to talk these issues through, so you could either speak to your GP or (to avoid inevitable waiting lists) find a therapist in your area through the website itsgoodtotalk.org.uk.

At the end of your letter, you ask the all- important question about acceptance.

I think it would help you to try to accept that your mother is allowed to grieve for her late husband, and that it is impossible for you to know the extent of those feelings — or how guilty she may feel over private things that went on between them throughout their marriage. What is the cause of her excessive drinking, and has she ever had any help for it?

Yes, you are angry that she has set up a ‘league table’ of grief, refusing to give due weight to her daughters’ mourning. Nevertheless, it is vital that you step back from your own feelings enough to acknowledge the extent of her loss. That’s all. There is no competition here.

It seems wise to accept that you are unlikely to create a rich and loving relationship with your mother, simply because you have never had one.

But if you manage (hopefully with help) to explore your feelings about your parents and their marriage, as well as the hole the loss of your dad has left in your life, you might at least achieve an equilibrium.

This is important, because even your long, angry, unedited letter doesn’t lead me to think you want to cut off all contact with your mother.

Perhaps if you make a point of visiting her with one of your sisters you will be spared the confrontational awkwardness and self-pity (hers) you dread.

But, still, do visit her. ‘The good daughter’ label is not meaningless, even if it’s hard sometimes to earn.