My insecure mother has had a life-long fantasy that we were a big, happy, close-knit family. She went to great lengths to show this image to the world. She made sure the house was perfect. We were never allowed to touch the walls, lest we leave a fingerprint. She cooked for days in advance, following the women’s magazine wisdom to make everything look effortless.
She nagged us to diet so we would look good in the clothes she chose for each us, even my dad. She heaved giant sighs to let us know how our chubby bodies and ordinary lives disappointed her. She did nothing to hide her disgust when one of my sisters gained weight or brought home a less-than-handsome boyfriend. For her, everything focused on being thin, well dressed, and appearing successful.
But she had no interest in fostering actual success or real happiness in her kids. We learned that to be given the security of her love, we had to look well adjusted, but it didn’t matter if we actually were well adjusted. The way to deal with distress, according to her, was to act like everything was fine. If we told her we were uncomfortable, we were labeled too sensitive. End of conversation.
My clients tell me stories with similar themes. The content of their experiences may be different, but the theme is the same. There is a clear parental directive. “Don’t be real. Don’t be you. Keep up my (mom’s or dad’s) fantasy about who I am as a parent and who we are as a family, especially when people are coming to dinner.”
As I got older and had more therapy, it became essential for me to be exactly who I am at all times. Pretending had become untenable. I found myself getting sick whenever I had scheduled a trip back to my home town. I stopped attending family dinners and immediately felt better. The guilt I had been entrained to feel at disappointing my mom began to ebb as I realized I had been drafted into being her emotional caretaker from birth on, and that this was upside down.
In secure families, parent’s attend to their kid’s emotional needs. In insecure families, it’s the other way around.
I began to pay attention to how I wanted to spend holidays, what they meant to me. Easter and Passover are celebrations of the first green shoots of spring, the earth coming back to life and light after the darkness and chill of winter. This became a metaphor for my growth and healing.
At the Passover Seder, we celebrate freedom from bondage. Becoming aware of the unconscious agreements we had to live by in our insecure families is a similar kind of awakening. As we let go of these agreements - to protect our difficult and fragile parents from their anxiety, shame and insecurity, we gain freedom from having to pretend, freedom to be (or discover) our real selves.
At the Easter table, we celebrate the awareness that the Christ in us never dies. The seed of who we are stays within us, no matter how we have had to hide, pretend, or transform ourselves to feel accepted and loved. We can learn to love ourselves as Christ loved, tenderly washing our own feet, treating ourselves with the warmth and respect he offered everyone, sick or well, rich or poor.
This weekend, whether you are alone, with friends, or sitting with your insecure family, I invite you to tune inward to your feelings and needs. These are your compass, your guide back to you. You are the promised land. You might need some time to wander in the desert, learning how to be free. It may take more than three days, but the person you really are, the person you were meant to be can be resurrected with your own patient, tender, forgiving kindness, compassion and love.
Keep hunting for what delights you and sets you free. Easter eggs are everywhere, all year long.
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