Untamed - Glennon Doyle Page 0,56

she told me not to get bangs? I didn’t. My mother loves me very, very well, so I’ve always trusted her to know what was right for me.

It’s not the cruel criticism from folks who hate us that scares us away from our Knowing; it’s the quiet concern of those who love us. My mom’s fear started to pull me away from my Knowing. I lost my peace. I became defensive and angry. I spent weeks on the phone with her, explaining myself, trying to convince her that I knew what I was doing and that it would all be okay. One night I was talking to my sister, working myself up, replaying to her my most recent conversation with my mom. My sister interrupted me and said, “Glennon, why are you so defensive? Defensiveness is for people who are afraid that what they have can be taken from them. You are a grown-ass woman. You can have what you want. No one can take this from you. Not even Mom. This is yours, Glennon. Abby is yours.”

We hung up, and I thought: My mother loves me. And she disagrees with me about what is best for me. I am going to have to decide who I trust more: my mother or myself. For the first time in my life, I decided to trust myself—even though that meant moving in direct opposition to my parents. I decided to please myself instead of my parents. I decided to become responsible for my own life, my own joy, my own family. And I decided to do it with love.

That is when I became an adult.

* * *

That night I told Abby, “I’m not going to spend one more second explaining myself or justifying our relationship. Explaining is fear preparing its case, and we are not on trial. No one can take what we have. I can’t convince my parents that we’re okay by talking incessantly about how okay we are. I think the only way to convince anybody you are okay is just to go about being okay and let them witness it. I don’t want to leave our island to be an evangelist for us anymore. It’s too tiring, and every time I go and try to convince other people that we’re fine, I’m not here, with you—being fine. So I’m adding a sign to our island. This one isn’t facing outward at the world, it’s pointing inward, toward us, as a reminder. It says: ‘Only Love Out.’ ”

No Fear In. No Fear Out.

Only Love In. Only Love Out.

* * *

The next day, I stood underneath a tree at my son’s cross-country meet, trying to find relief from the hundred-degree heat. I was on the phone with my mother, and she was asking to come visit her grandchildren. Her tone was controlled, anxious, shaky. She was still worrying and calling that love. She just couldn’t trust my Knowing yet. But for the first time, I did. I trusted my Knowing.

Here is the part of the story in which a mother and a daughter become two mothers:

I say, “Mom. No. You can’t come. You are still afraid and you can’t bring that to us because our children—they’re not afraid. We raised them to understand that love and truth—in any form—are to be honored and celebrated. They haven’t learned the fear you carry, and I won’t have it taught to them through your voice and in your eyes. Your fear that the world will reject our family is causing you to create the very rejection you fear exists. Our children are not carrying the fear that you are carrying—but if you bring it here, they will help you carry it, because they trust you. I do not want that unnecessary burden to be passed to them.

“Is this the easiest path for me, for Abby, for Craig, for your grandchildren? Of course not. But it’s the truest one. We are making a true and beautiful family and home, and I hope with all of my heart that one day soon you will be able to come enjoy it. But we cannot be the ones to teach you that you can love and accept us. I have to tell you this hard thing, which is that your fear is not my or Abby’s or the children’s problem. My duty as their mother is to make sure it never becomes their problem. We don’t have a problem, Mama. I want you to come to us