Groomed to be Golden?

[Certain Hope]

Hi,

I've been wondering whether my mother's intent was to groom me... to be her "Golden Child".
So I did a Google and the first search hits were about the movie. Here's the excerpt:

The Golden Child (1986) is an American mystical comedy film starring Eddie Murphy. Murphy plays Chandler Jarrell, a social worker who is confronted by a young Asian woman (Charlotte Lewis) who tells him that he is the one destined to save The Golden Child, the saviour of all mankind, from the clutches of the demon Sardo Numspa, played by Charles Dance. The film was directed by Michael Ritchie.

Reading that, I thought:     Wait a minute here... no, no... she cast me into Eddie Murphy's role in this production
with herself as the Golden Child... and my dad's the demon.

Oh, but wait a minute again... dad had a production of his own, where mother played the demon role and I cast as his Golden Child saviour/buddy.

And that's all... research continues, just wanted to put this out there because it's been the lifelong source of so much internal confusion, I needed to see it in print. Comments welcome... research continues. Thanks!

Hope

[Poppyseed]

Hey hope,

How are you?  The golden children!  The golden children!  I certainly am NOT the golden child.  But my H was definitely groomed to play the role that made his Mother the perfect one and his family the one with no probs and no flaws.  And that mantle of responsibility, keeping my H taken care of so he could still be perfect, fell on me when we married.  It is an impossible burdan and because of my own self esteem issues I walked right into the quicksand thinking it was love.  I feel that now for the first time, my H sees it.  Really sees it!  Thank goodness!!!  We are finally cutting the ties that forced us for so long to play these roles for his family and his need for denial.  Feels so good to be standing on our own.  We don't know what our relationship will look like with his N fam.  But for the first time in our lives, I think we may be breathing free.  I love detachment!! One of my favorite healing principles!

--poppy

[Certain Hope]

Poppy   

It's good to read you! I think of you so often...  and I'm thrilled to hear the wonderful news of the free-breathing in your marriage 
You sound really, really good... and firm!
I am okay, thank you so much for asking... a bit wobbly, as though I just jumped from too high... not too springy at the moment... but on a firm foundation.

Nothing golden about me, either... but that was the objective, I now realize.
Since it was just my brother and myself, there were no other available targets... and - since my brother rejected our mother's control outright (and became quite the N himself!) - I did try, in my own feeble way, to fulfill both of my parents' expectations.
My particular dilemma was that mother and father each had/have their own peculiar agenda... diametrically opposed to each other.
Now I see more clearly why I have felt so split throughout my life. That little movie summary clicked the whole thing into full view for me and I feel more capable now of officially rejecting the roles which each of them has tried to assign me.

Your husband is especially blessed, Pops... if you think it's appropriate, please tell him so, from me.
I was alot like him throughout my marriage to my childrens' dad. I didn't know any better... and I didn't have an emotionally available, mature spouse to help me see the light. He's got so much going for him... and he must have had a whole lot more sense than I ever did to have married you.
God continue to bless and keep y'all.

With love,
Hope

P.S. on edit... I am considering writing to my parents and letting them know that I do officially reject these roles and that I wish them the very best in working out their own individual conflicts with each other and leaving me out of that picture.

[Poppyseed]

Officially rejecting the roles... GOOD FOR YOU!  I think my H has been doing that.  We talked early this morning and he said that he refused to be defined by his family anymore.  I started the day feeling somehow liberated!!  I guess if he refuses to play I certainly don't have to.   I am glad that you saw it, even in a movie clip.  And I am hoping that you find joy in your own liberation.  I think that there is something very powerful here.  Something tremendous about getting those old roles, expectations, whatever they are, out of our heads.  And then viewing ourselves in a more pure, singular, whole sort of way.  It sounds like a rebirth in a way.  It feels so good to me.  As I go through this very process, I must admit feeling at little naked or maybe undefined at times.  Because I have spent so much time "playing the role" .  I am looking forward as I practice even the simpliest of actions in my new more authentic, unfettered self.  I still feel the banging on the door from our N people as they panic and grapple with the new rules of dealing with us.  Somehow, I feel less effected by it.  Feels like noise.  My H doesn't react.  He is good at that kind of emotional control.  Better than I.  I am so reactive.  I love his example in this way.  I was reading you on another post about a phone call from your mother.  Felt the tenseness I always feel in conversations with my MIL and SIL. The pushes and pulls and putdowns and insinuations.  All in the merk of words.   Guess I kinda saw you halfway in between the reacting and the not reacting.  Sounds to me like you are finding your autonomy.  I hope you feel finally that you don't have to be what they,  m or d, wanted or needed you to be.  You are so beautifully strong as you are.   

--poppy

[Hopalong]

Something tremendous about getting those old roles, expectations, whatever they are, out of our heads.  And then viewing ourselves in a more pure, singular, whole sort of way.  It sounds like a rebirth in a way.  It feels so good

So well put, Poppy.
Feels good to me too. I literally felt my shoulder tension ease, an expansion in my chest, when I read these lines.

Thank you!

Hops

[Bella_French]

This is such a good thread, Hope.

On the surface of things, i think I have let go of trying be the Golden Child. But I have been thinking a lot about another thread, the `are you addicted ah-ahhs?' thread that Hops posted.

After reading what you and Hops wrote, I have been trying to connect to my feelings surrounding accomplishment. Well actually, I'm trying to work out if the `little buzz' i feel when i do something well , is authentic, or a payoff when I feel that my mother would approve?

Its difficult, because I'm not always sure. A lot of my work involves design work for wedding invitations, and I am pretty perfectionistic about it. Not overly so all the time, but every now and again i realize when I'm spending too much time on something. For example, i spent something like 8 hours on an order worth only $15 last week, because I wanted the custom design to look beautiful. When it looked right, I `knew' and I felt a buzz of excitement, and i couldn't wait to show the customer. Of course she was thrilled, but I knew tat I probably spent too much time on her complex design.

When i design, there is definitely a `feeling' I am chasing. I know when a piece of work is finished, because I feel really good. It is like a little buzz, where I know that I've got it right. I just don't know if its always healthy, or always unhealthy, or somewhere in between?

Lol, this is probably a better post for the `artists way' thread. but it relates, in that I know that I struggled for so much of my life to shed my sense of worthlessness when i couldn't live up to being a golden child. I kind of expect theres more for me to learn. Oh well, at least I'm making lots of brides happy, lol.

X bella

[Hopalong]

Hi Bella,
I feel exactly the same way when I finish a good poem...the last line, when it's right, gives me that same high.

It's okay with me! And for you, dear...aren't you entitled the real and ordinary (not talent-wise, but human being-wise) pleasure and thrill of an artist who knows that letting it be over moment?

It's a release and a mini-birth and a thrill and the sweetest moment.

No matter how small or large the effort, the moment when you know that you have no more editing or drawing or touching up to do, and you let it go into the stream of what's been created, will be created...

That's the creative peak. The flow of doing it is wonderful, but only the stingiest, most cramped and congested and miserly and mean and compressed kind of spirit (hint: not yours) would deny you these moments, as many of them as you can conjure!

I say banish that bad juju. You DESERVE PLEASURE IN YOUR OWN TALENT.

Can you ask yourself: Is this gobbling ego? Or is gratitude?

I think I know the answer, but the gift is yours to give yourself.

Love to you and much delight,
Hops

[Bella_French]

Oh Hops. I adore you! Thank you for helping me to let go of this annoying second-guessing.  Now I can make mental space to worry about something else, lol.

It is so nice to know that you write poetry, and it does not surprise me at all:)

X Bella

[Certain Hope]

Dear Poppy,

I love that view of a  "pure, singular, and whole" self!
A double-minded person is unstable in all his/her ways... oy vey, ain't that the truth.

Listening to a message yesterday, there was a reference to one of the Beatitudes... "Blessed are the pure in heart...".
The teacher pointed out that the word "pure" doesn't mean holy, but unadulterated, singular in purpose...
like 100 % pure orange juice - undiluted.
My spirit got goose-bumps 

I really relate to that sense of rebirth... and being uncovered, undefined. Guess I thought the spiritual rebirth would transform everything, but now the concept of "renewing the mind" is far more clear... it doesn't just happen by osmosis. This is hard work!

Poppy, my husband doesn't react to his family's input either... and for the longest time, I couldn't understand that. But as he was growing up, he was surrounded by women... a mother who had a nervous breakdown when he was a child, two sisters (one with schizophrenia)...
and I can see that he had to surround himself with a bubble of detachment where they are concerned. It's not lack of love and care, at all!
It's a very healthy boundary. Like you, I am determined to continue learning how to be less reactive and more wisely responsive.

That phone call from my mother... well, it was the closest I've come to actually having the conscious thoughts of what she was doing, in complete sentences, while she was doing it. It freaked me out considerably, and yet I recognize that as a positive development.
I think that your in-laws are very much like her, in their drive to keep up appearances; and I can see now that my mother views my husband as the enemy... probably very much like your in-laws view you.

I've gotta tell you, Poppy... once when they were here on a visit, they did some shopping at a dollar-store type place and brought back little gifts for each of us. I got a cute little ceramic critter. My husband got a dog brush. For himself to use. Yes. My mother's reasoning was that dad uses one of those little round rubbery comb thingies and this was similar. Not.
Looking back, she did my brother this way, too, for many years. I'd get something decent as a gift... and he'd get socks.
Yeah, I was sposed to be golden. Now she wants to know what am I going to make of myself...
My answer is - Free! That's what.

Thank you, Poppy... dunno whether I'm strong at all, or just ornery. But I want to be the person God desires, and finally I see once and for all, that has nothing to do with my parents' designs on me. Renewing the mind to His truth is the key, I believe. Blessings to you and your family!

Love,
Hope

[Certain Hope]

Dear Bella,

Oh, do I understand that little buzz. Perfectionism ruled in my life for so long that I was inhibited from even trying many things... partly because there seemed to be no such thing as just experimenting with an endeavor as a kid.
Every single little attempt turned into some huge mission of seeking perfection... and the message I got was: if you aren't prepared to do it perfectly, then don't bother. But I digress... lol (alot)  sorry!

Back to the buzz!
There is a huge difference, I think, between the glow in the eye (or tingle in the ear) of an artist and the sort of approval-seeking we do when we're trying to please mama.
I think that the way to know is this...
What if you get that invitation "just so" and are thoroughly enthused with the finished product and then the customer disapproves?
Does that diminish your own appreciation for the work you've accomplished?
 Doesn't sound to me like it would, Bella.
 I can picture you saying (at least to yourself): "Well! That ignorant so-and-so... not a sense in her head about art! I will just keep this design and possibly share it with someone else in future, because it is awesomely wonderful and I know that a keen eye would recognize that fact!"

Now, if you were spending an inordinate amount of time on each project, you may want to either increase prices or lower your own expectations of your work, but I have a strong hunch that this isn't a matter of compulsion at all. You probably knew that this this customer would be thrilled with your work... that's something I think we can sense about others and it inspires us, too.

Chasing that feeling when creating is a wonderful pursuit, as long as other folks' responses don't factor in too much, I think. Make sense?

Love,
Hope

 

[mountainspring]

Hi Certain Hope,

I think my mothers intent was also to be the golden child, and your post really got me thinking.  I think it was my mothers intent to groom my brother to be the golden child, but in a way we were all groomed.  My sister and I were groomed to be the bad kids.  My mother played mind games with us, but not my brother.  And I've thought alot about it, how she would just push and push and push and wait for us to retaliate as teenagers, and the minute we did, she'd be on the phone about how she was trying sooo hard and she loved us so much and we were so bad.  I think it was all a game for her and she didn't care whether we were good or bad, she just wanted the drama so she could get more attention.  And she still operates the same way.  When I called her about Mammaws medication at assisted living she went off.  And when I got off the phone I wondered who her audience was.  I don't think she was alone when I called her.  I think she threw a tantrum for an audience.

My mother groomed all of us (including my dad) for what I think was her show.  We assigned all of us 'roles' and being kids we didn't have any idea what was going on.  But you know what is interesting? When I'm around her now and observe her and it seems like she is doing the same things to the people that she is currently around.  Pushing people to get them to react so she make it something it's not and draw attention to herself.  She's playing the same game, only with different people.  And this time she's playing it with adults who can see very well what is happening. 

And you know what goes along with her assigning roles?  Defining people.  She defines everyone.  And she defines them inaccurately and she could care less.  And to me that's abuse too because when she defines them she ceases to see them.  She can't see anyone, she only sees what she has defined and what role they could play in her little show. 

I think our mothers may be the same in some ways.  Does any of this feel familiar to you?

[Certain Hope]

Dear Mountainspring,

This feels very familiar at so many levels... thinking aloud here...

My mother's sister did the assigning of roles and acting out of the drama in very obvious ways. She had many characteristics of borderline personality disorder, only slightly more contained than some. Her designation of people to play certain parts was especially clear to me in her dealings with my own children. My oldest daughter was her "golden child" and she made no attempt to disguise the fact, working overtime to turn her into a carbon copy of herself. In the end, aunt left an inheritance to this daughter, with no mention of my other children. She sounds more like your mother to me than my own mother. She also did the push and push and push (to my grandmother, with whom she lived all of her life), and then she'd call ME to unload all her woes... it was awful... and very, very fake. Then there was NPD-ex, who realllly did the performing before an audience (often on the phone) when he felt like a bit of melodrama to boost his image. He liked to be on the phone with his mother or sister and pretend like I was the one throwing the tantrum.
And my brother... whooeee... what a showman. He had each of my kids boxed, wrapped, and labeled, long before I knew what npd was. I could never understand his need to convince himself that he had someone pegged. Just no interest in actually learning to know a person... too risky, I guess. So yes, I believe that it's all a game for them. They're not invested in any of it... their world's a stage.

My mother herself has generally reigned this in, so that most of her behaviour is quite behind the scenes, and very passive-aggressive.
She groomed my dad, big time. One of her favourite routines is to assign him tasks that are supposedly for my benefit. They'd visit my home and she'd begin interrogating me... what do you want to do with this, that, or the other thing? she'd ask. (Note: always the implication that whatever it was, isn't good enough and requires modification.) Hmm.. I'd think... well, maybe such-and-such would be nice...
Next thing I know, she's got dad pinned down, telling him what I want, how he should make it happen, etc, etc, and then supervising the entire project which she had instigated, making everyone miserable in the process.
And I'd sit there helplessly wondering why...
but I see now, that it is life itself to her... to be constantly managing someone or something. She can not simply BE. When I cut her off on that behaviour, several years ago... well, now if they come to visit, she will sit there and yawn, act totally bored, and finally go lie down on the couch, refusing to visit with anyone... just very rude. If she can't get somebody to jump for her, she checks out.

And yes, she defines everyone, in an instant...  and no one ever measures up. For her, I think it's a matter of constantly, continuously, proving to herself that she is superior. A more condescending woman I have never met.
The people with whom she's impressed are those who have money and material possessions, or those who perform great accomplishments. Anyone else is just riff-raff, to be tolerated... barely. There is no such thing as simple living for her... no joy in the moment, no pleasure at watching others enjoy themselves.

When we were visiting my parents last month, we drove down to the lake access which is part of their property benefit (it's not far, but dad drove so that mother wouldn't have to walk). Some neighbors of their came in off the water in their boat, to the dock. Our kids were happily splashing in the water and picking up stones... my husband and I were visiting with dad at the picnic table... and I heard mother mutter something about "those people" and then, to my dad, "Can we GO now?!!?" There was such a look of hatred on her face and such venom in her words... it was frightening.
While we were all still wondering what in the world was the big deal, she upped and disappeared into the woods, down the footpath. I didn't know she could move that fast. We loaded up shortly after and went back to the house. She'd already gone to bed. So yeah, she does her own little dramas...  you just never know you're part of one till it's over. It must be miserable living inside of her head. I'm so thankful that I don't have to.

Hugs, MS

Love,
Hope

[Hopalong]

Oh forsooph, sweet Hope, thou are neither riff
nor raff nor venom-dipped macaroni salad...

Yuck. My Shakespeare fell out, save to say
your Macbeth-momma is a thug. An emotional thug.

Iggghh. Ick, I am not feeling charitable.

I can imagine how everyone, so well behaved and
schooled in courtesy, felt the spirit and zest for life
drain out of their sandals and they shuffled after her.

It is SO impressive that you don't play any more.
Ick, shudder, oooggghh, and grrrrrrr.

I'm glad you're so out of her orbit.
love
Hops

[Certain Hope]

Oh forsooph, sweet Hope, thou are neither riff
nor raff nor venom-dipped macaroni salad...

Yuck. My Shakespeare fell out, save to say
your Macbeth-momma is a thug. An emotional thug.

Iggghh. Ick, I am not feeling charitable.

I can imagine how everyone, so well behaved and
schooled in courtesy, felt the spirit and zest for life
drain out of their sandals and they shuffled after her.

It is SO impressive that you don't play any more.
Ick, shudder, oooggghh, and grrrrrrr.

I'm glad you're so out of her orbit.
love
Hops

Thank you, Hops : )  Not sure I get the venom macaroni part, but that's okay    I love it anyhow!
(((((((Hops)))))))) 

I've been trying to think of her as a "difficult person", but emotional thug just has that extra oomph... it fits. Several husbands ago  I had a mother-in-law akin to Roseanne Barr, only even more crude. My mother was awful to her... wouldn't agree to pay for her family to attend the small reception we had, so they didn't come. X-mil said that my mother had no etiquette... and the irony of it all is that's been a joke between mother and me since 1980...    but no, the real irony is - she was right. My mother really is the rudest of the crude, in her own snobby way. She had me so well hornswoggled, I didn't even see it.

I did something ridiculous when we were visiting their home last month.
We were all at her dining room table and she began this "Lady of the manor" routine she does about something she likes.
It's hard to describe, but she puts on this plastic-mask-bizarre-grinning-expression and speaks as though this thing is just the greatest in the universe... and beyond that, as though God made it just for her, because she is sooooo speshhhhhul  (good grief, I don't even remember what it was this time... some sort of food, I think). How she conveys all this and more in one simple sentence is beyond me, but there it is - this thing, okay, say it's brussels sprouts -
is so so so wonderful that anyone who doesn't appreciate it would have to be beneath slime - a pathetic, moronic, unworthy creature unworthy of notice.
And what do I do, sitting demurely, unsmiling, in my seat next to her at the table?

I say, quietly,  "Oh... I don't like it."
oops.

She whips her head around to me and says, plastic grin still intact, " I do."

I reply, calmly, "I don't."

And so this continued, 5-6 times... and of course, I knew who would get the last word. She always wins. She's always right. You will never hear her say anything remotely resembling, "to each his own", with anything less than utter disdain.

 It was so dumb, but I didn't want to stop until I saw the mask crack. It never did.
I am just so tired of her setting the standard for everything.... so, ditto to your  Iggghh, Ick, shudder, oooggghh, and grrrrrrr !!!

Love,
Hope

P.S.  She's a fan of the Atlanta Braves baseball team and refers to them as "My Braves". You'd have to hear her say it, but honestly... it sounds incestuous.
And another thing... just read her letter from this week. Apparently a couple of people stopped by to visit... no doubt to see my dad, since normally, she can't be bothered with company. Anyhow, she writes to me: "I was very proud to show them the National Honor Roll 2006/2007 book I ordered with ( my daughter S's) name at the bottom of the cover." She must have paid $50.00 for the silly book... which is really a scam to rake in money from folks such as her... all for show and tell, to puff herself up. I'd suggested to S that she insert her grandparents' name and address in the blank on the form for this organization, so they'd receive written notification of her placement. Never occurred to me that she'd actually purchase the book... sheesh. One of the people to whom she showed it was my Godmother... a woman who's known her forever... same woman who suggested to her 5 years ago, when I nearly died of a ruptured appendix, that just maybe it might be appropriate for her to call and see whether I needed help....  ugh.  (((())))

[BonesMS]

"We were all at her dining room table and she began this "Lady of the manor" routine she does about something she likes.
It's hard to describe, but she puts on this plastic-mask-bizarre-grinning-expression and speaks as though this thing is just the greatest in the universe... and beyond that, as though God made it just for her, because she is sooooo speshhhhhul  "

As I was reading the description above, I couldn't help but think of "Hyacinth Bucket" from "Keeping Up Appearances".

Bones