I’m Glad My Mom Died is the title of a new memoir by a former child actress I’ve never heard of, and it’s a best seller. It has received more attention than any other recent book that’s not about Donald Trump, and the response to it seems uniformly favorable.
For all I know, Jeanette McCurdy is a good writer. But it’s the shocking title that seems to please reviewers most. How daring of her! Good for her! The book is a chronicle of abuse by a terrible, exploitative and seemingly mentally ill stage mother whose conduct sounds like something from a Grimms’ Fairy Tale.
But now the mom is safely dead from cancer and Jeanette is sharing her story of suffering and redemption all over the internet to hearty accolades, not least from others who hate their parents and share her bold sentiment. A piece in the Huffington Post reveals that “it’s not uncommon to feel that way.” Uh-oh.
Naturally, as a mother I find this chilling. As a mother estranged from an adult child, I can’t help feeling the title embodies my worst fears. I know my adult child wants nothing to do with me for reasons only he understands. I mean, I know I wasn’t perfect and I yelled a lot. And abuse is in the eye, and narrative, of the self-proclaimed abused party.
But it pains me to think that my death will actually be celebrated, you know? I guess it won’t matter since I won’t be around to be horrified.
Back when I learned about forums for adult children who hate their mothers, I had to stop looking at their posts when someone admitted to feeling no grief upon losing their parent. They weren’t exactly proud of their reaction, like Jeanette seems to be, but rather a little defensive. The other mommy-haters on the forum reassured the griefless adult child that they looked forward to the death of their parent and the relief it would bring.
Since I can only speak for myself, and my own narrative of my experience as both a mother and an adult child of a mother, I guess it’s not for me to judge these damaged victims of bad parents. But it seems like the title “I’m Glad My Mom Died” is somehow acceptable in today’s zeitgeist (sorry!) of proud victimhood and trauma survivors, whereas the title “I’m Glad My Daughter Died” would never be published, let alone applauded.
Is it because it’s reasonable to hate your mom but not your daughter? What about “I’m Glad My Dog Died” or even “I’m Glad My Neighbor Died’? None of these work, do they?
My guess is it’s because the Awful Mother is now a staple of our cultural landscape, from Carrie to Mommy Dearest and beyond.
Mother’s can’t win, is my feeling. The best of us are still not good enough, although Donald Winnicott disagrees. (More about the concept of the good-enough mother here.) Our mistakes engender bitter resentments that time cannot eradicate for many. But it’s my belief that whatever you do as a parent will be wrong. All you can do is try your hardest to make the best decisions you can, to get help if you see you’re fucking up, and to love your kids unconditionally.
I’ve come to forgive my mother for her shortcomings and her bad behavior with the awareness that she was a complicated person shaped by her own difficult childhood. I’m not glad she died; I’m screwed up but I’m not heartless.
Jennette McCurdy tells an interviewer somewhat self-righteously that she’s “done the work” to earn the right to her title. Whatever that means. Is she sorry she was born? I’d like to ask her that. Because she owes her existence to her mother, which is not nothing.
And now she’s making a fortune by speaking Her Truth about her mother. She also complains in the book about her Nickelodeon co-star Ariana Grande’s greater success, which could lead to another brave best seller if Ariana could only die.
Just kidding! You do you, mommy haters.
Thoughts and insults, anyone?
* Giaquinto di Corrado Bottega, Medea, 1752, Hinton Ampner National Trust
I too am the mother of an estranged adult child and another who is trying to separate from me but is so traumatized by his childhood (you’re welcome) that he has two therapists, is on disability for CPTSD and lives in my basement. His current main complaint about me is that I dissociate and won’t be my true vulnerable self around him. I was so busy building walls around myself during a 25-year abusive marriage (to a proxy for my mother) that I didn’t have room to “validate” my children’s pain and, well, do everything right. I’ve read your posts about attempting to connect with other estranged mothers and I admire your guts for wading into that cesspool. The internet is no place to find solace for that kind of thing. The answer always comes back to taking responsibility for your own pain and forgiving yourself—and I’m talking about all of us, not just you and not just your kids, everyone.
I had a difficult relationship with my mother after I became pregnant as a teenager. It’s not that she and my father were upset,au contraire, they actually were very supportive. Too supportive and my mother took over rearing my daughter (without really asking me) I was 17 and still a kid-her kid-but I kinda ceased to exist after my daughter was born and it was all about that baby. I should note my mother was very young when she had me (she 17, my dad 19) so they didn’t really think anything of it.
She had wanted to have more children and still was technically young enough but had her tubes tied after my brother. So this I felt was a blessing in disguise for her. When I was in my 20’s I became really bitter about the whole thing and we fought over my daughter for years.
I’m older now with 4 children and 6 grandchildren and have learned to forgive my mom and my dad, who has passed away, because I feel know they were just trying to help me. We are good now. I learned to forgive her and myself. I’m happy to have let that pain go.
Alison – Jesus christ, I admire YOUR guts. Excellent advice, Alison, I will try to keep it in mind. xo
Shelley MacGibbon – I can’t even imagine how I would stay sane if my mom did this. It’s great to hear that you’re good with her now. And I’m jealous about the grandchildren! xo
I also had a complicated mom who grew up in an extremely abusive home with an alcoholic PTSD survivor. (they called it shell shock then)
She married my dad young to escape the home and of course never had an ounce of therapy before having my brother and I. She took out all her pain on us, especially me in my teen years. Classic narcissist behaviour- my brother was the Golden Child and I was the one to be undermined.
She was a tyrant and thank god my brother is alive as my only true witness because my dad was busy enabling it all.
In my late 30s, I did “the work” (sorry) to process everything and forgive her. She was a victim, and all of her siblings are in bad shape with one dying by suicide in their 20s.
I choose to have a good relationship with my parents now. Age and bodily decline have taken most of the venom out of my mom. I see that she also did a lot of things right despite everything. My brother and I turned out pretty okay so there’s that?
Maybe one day your son will come to, I dunno. It’s a choice and you have to see your parent as the human they are.
Read the first chapter. No. Boring.
While I can respect her pain and experience, I found this title cringe. The last thing our culture needs is more vilifying of mothers while simultaneously seeing “mothering” as the highest moral ideal. And then not having any societal structures in place to actually help them. Lose, lose baby. Let’s have a mom’s wine night shall we? Nope.
Lindsay – Families are fraught with fucked up people and fucked up behavior! The more stories I hear, the more I wonder if the Happy Family is a fiction. Recognizing that ypur mom had her own struggles is the key, right? Sometimes people do the best they can under the circumstances, and this applies to both parents and children. I wish it were easier to agree to make a fresh start! xo
Lindsay – THANK YOU, godammit. xo
Parents are just people with kids. Unless your parent tried to kill you, molested you, tried to sell you, or give you away, get over it. Blaming your parents for something as an adult is pathetic. I guarantee in every situation the parent had worse parents than the complaining adult child.
Also, there are some terrible, terrible people around who have kids, wouldn’t so much call them parents though.