Individuation and the Grief of Letting Go

My relationship with my mom is changing. It has always been changing. But this phase of maturation (what I hesitate to call "separation" though that's what it is) stands out as particularly difficult. I assume the difficulty only signifies the depth and breadth of hard work on both of our parts to become adult women with healthy boundaries and functional (as in not dysfunctional) dependence on one another. But fuck: the letting-go process hurts like hell. I'm sure all of this is conflated by the fact that I have no relationship to anyone of blood relation besides my mom. The rest are all dead or estranged. That hurts like hell too, though I've grown used to this fact of my life over the past couple of years and have arrived at relative acceptance.

Perhaps the innate developmental process of mimetic behavior creates such pain. How else do we learn to live, move, and have our being (to quote Paul who was quoting the Sophists, I think(?)) besides copying the gestures, actions and relational patterns of our primary care-providers? We cannot escape becoming "just like them" in some senses. And yet most kids/teens/young-adults pass through a phase where all things parental appear on the surface like the biggest embarrassment dolled out in human history. You embark upon negating--publicly and personally--those characteristics and attributes that tie you to mom, dad, or whoever raises you. The goal: complete denial of any willing affiliation with these unfortunately related losers. And then there comes another phase, the phase when you wake up and realize how hard they worked, how little you appreciated them--and in some cases (like mine), how you took advantage of them with minimal consideration of the consequences. Quite immediately the process of acting right, showing your gratitude, and making them proud begins. The irresponsible child blossoms into responsible citizen. Hard-work, degrees, awards. They stand there, in the moments when you receive the tokens of having your shit together and cry because, yes, there were hard times, but not all stands in vain. You cry too, because those tears, not the degrees or awards, manifest the reality you have worked so hard to actualize. You hope this most recent addition to the offspring-achievement archive offsets the years of ditching school, D's and F's in science and math, coming home too late, suspensions for getting high at the park above campus, etc. It is almost as if atonement happens when you can get your parent to change their mind about who you are. If they see you as rehabilitated and successful, then perhaps you are. If they brag to their friends about your achievements, then perhaps you really are bragging material. This latter phase still consists of making that parental figure the source/center of decision-making. And it's still self-centered. It's still about proving, showing, reacting and convincing yourself that you're not so bad after all.

I've been told, and am beginning to see, that the next phase of individuation consists of realizing that becoming your own person requires active, not reactive choices when it comes to career choice, relational patterns and ways of coping with everyday stress. Further "becoming your own person" is less the goal than joining those movements and forces of/in the world that bring about the common good; you begin to realize that ending hunger, curbing your habits to ensure a future for the unborn, and participating in local politics matter a whole lot more than what your mom thinks about your newest haircut. You no longer feel the need to vehemently reject those things about your parents that drive you crazy and you no longer feel the need to make all your decisions in accordance with their hopes for you. Much like the famous 12-step colloquialism: you take what you like and leave the rest. Sounds good, right?

Well, sorta. One thing Marjorie Suchocki wrote stands out at this point (and I am not quoting verbatim here): the problem with letting go of a familiar pattern or way of being in the world is that the future is never certain. In a sense, when you give up what you've always done, you're doing so without a clue about how the outcomes will play out. So for those of us who are moving from one individuation stage to the next, from either outright rejecting or completely surrendering to our parents all the time, we stand on a precipice of sorts. We are giving up the mediating source of our development and putting ourselves into the breezy, undetermined, future of a world that molds us in accordance with our ability to come and go when it calls and pushes. So little control. So little familiarity. Yikes.

I don't think I need to provide a list here of the benefits that come with entering into and working through this stage of adulthood. But I'm pretty sure one of those gifts is being able to choose, not from robotic compulsion but intentional strength, the parameters of one's relationship to hir parents. The relationship can be grounded in mutuality and mature giving and receiving born of love and respect. The relationship can move beyond duty and physical/monetary dependency for survival into a friendship that deepens the quality of life for all parties involved.

But there's also a huge loss that comes with such movement. That's what I sat down to write about this morning. I carry so many pieces of my mom with me, carry them with me on the job, in the market, in my head, in my body, and I definitely listen to her come out of my mouth these days (even when I least expect it). I don't see my mom very often--every couple of months at best. So I miss her a lot. As I go through this process of intentionally keeping and letting go of those pieces of her that I carry around, it hurts to let go of some of those pieces because they have kept her "with me" as we've been apart. Those pieces of her that I'm letting go do not keep her "with me" in healthy ways. That's why I'm letting go! So it's a good thing. But regardless: it's a loss. There's sadness and grief involved. Like I said: it hurts like hell.