Dear Carolyn: I’m the distant daughter-in-law in the oft-described scenario of not having a warm relationship with my mother-in-law. I am cordial to her, I try to minimize our asks of her, and I try to prioritize the time my in-laws get with our young child. I also encourage my husband to spend time with his parents whenever he wants.
Dear Carolyn: I’m the distant daughter-in-law in the oft-described scenario of not having a warm relationship with my mother-in-law. I am cordial to her, I try to minimize our asks of her, and I try to prioritize the time my in-laws get with our young child. I also encourage my husband to spend time with his parents whenever he wants.
What I don’t do is prioritize the time my in-laws get with me — I am busy, work full time, and have a family and friends, and because of that my mother-in-law is constantly disappointed in me — that I don’t make enough time for her, that I don’t communicate and text and call her, etc.
The thing is, I don’t want to do that — I would have to spend less time elsewhere, and the one thing I don’t have is time.
What do I do? Am I a terrible person? I can’t stand the muttered remarks about never seeing me, or how she wishes for X, Y and Z, all related to things I should do that I am not doing.
And yet I recognize my mother-in-law is aging and a grandparent to our child. Do I just keep ignoring the remarks? They seem to be getting worse and more intense. And why are women expected to have relationships with their mothers-in-law? I have a mother, I love her, and I don’t need another.
— Hi, I’m the Problem DIL, It’s Me
Hi, I’m the Problem DIL, It’s Me: If wondering whether you’re a terrible person hits me as disingenuous, then does that make me a terrible person?
Because responding to years of constant and ever more intensely muttered criticisms from your mother-in-law with cordial distance — plus unlimited grandchild access! — sounds so obviously decent and restrained that surely you must already know how not-terrible you are.
Maybe I’ve just seen too much estrangement, sabotage and semi-intentional poisoning.
It’s also possible, though, that her relentless gaslighting has you doubting your vision.
Pointedly, you’ve left out what your husband thinks of all this — whether he has called out her antics and supports your remaining at arm’s length, or thinks you’ve been mean to Mommy.
So here’s what I’ve got.
It’s possible you were initially the “problem,” in being cordial upon meeting her when she expected Instant Daughter. I type this with all my dexterity cells screaming against it because “problem” is wrong; we get to be ourselves when we meet new people, as long as we’re civil. Being reserved is natural for about half of us, leaving many blanks about ourselves unfilled.
Unfortunately, some people can’t help themselves and fill them in with their own prejudices — and I’m guessing that happened here. Your mother-in-law, insulted that you weren’t as expected, took you as cold, or remote, or rude. Then never looked back.
If I’m correct, then what could have been an accidental incompatibility became her actual fault. An emotionally healthy adult with a grasp of logic would have recognized her heavy incentives to zip it, be patient and give you chances to find your way to a relationship that suited you both. Cordial, respectful, warm, close, whatever. Life is long.
Expectations, meanwhile, are not invoices. You were — are — never required to fit anybody’s description. So it was always her responsibility to handle her disappointment privately, releasing her unrealized visions vs. hounding you to change.
Translation: You’re the daughter-in-law she got. Her job was to make the best of it.
No one ever, in the history of in-laws, expectations, disappointments, busy schedules, texting and grandkids, ever, has made anything better by constantly spite-muttering just within earshot of the person she’s complaining about. Holy hell.
What do you do, besides laugh-scream your way home in the car?
First, seriously, join me in feeling for your mother-in-law. Whoever her emotional role models were, they equipped her for eternal torment. Yours, yes, but more so her own. You at least have quality bonds with other people. I doubt she does, with those skills. Brutal. Plus aging may further erode them.
Second, if you aren’t square with your husband on this issue, then square it. In counseling, if needed. It speaks to your notions of family, so it matters.
Third, use any sympathy and harmony gains from the first two to lift you from your defensive trench. Yes, she’s wrong and you’re right. But back to my very first point: I think you already know this — and it’s not enough, is it?
The question then becomes how, and how much, you’re willing to bend for your own peace of mind. What would extra compassion, for example, bring to your interactions? What would [number] extra texts per [time unit] accomplish, relative to their “cost”? What would frank conversation dislodge: “When you complain about me, it hurts. Imagine being the one to hear constant reminders of what a disappointment you are.” Besides the text or two, none caves to her demands.
Hardening yourself to her makes sense. And you can stay impervious, no judgment; you’re already giving more than you owe. But what would softening do? For you. That’s what I’d be asking myself — because hardness has a cost, too.
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