Shadow Side of The Irish Mammy
As a therapist, there are many pieces I could write about mothers: how much people talk about their mothers in counselling (the cliche has truth); the seismic shift in identify that comes with new motherhood; the longing to be a mother when life presents obstacles; the grieving our own mothers, perhaps too early… But I thought in a week that also features St Patricks’ Day I would consider the Irish Mammy.
It strikes me when I hear stories from clients but also from family and friends, that the Irish Mammy can be a complex, misunderstood character; an unsung hero; a tragi-comedy even. Often a source of humour, the enduring image of the Irish Mammy is one of sacrifice and martyrdom, having less dinner on her plate so there’s more for others, not sitting down to eat the meal she spent five hours making; collecting teenagers at all hours of the night, never relaxing, always busy, always moving. The Irish Mammy is spoken of in glowing terms: ‘they’re so good!’ ‘They’d do anything for anyone!’ Their kindness and selflessness are without question. They often give their time generously to charity and community, their identity bound up in altruism. It gives them purpose and meaning.
And of course this is not always the case, but peel back the layers a bit in some of these women and a shadow side can sometimes reveal itself. A knowledge of psychology makes it hard to turn away from the reality of these chronic-people pleasing traits (often a survival/coping mechanism), disavowal of emotions, unprocessed trauma and loss, attachment wounds, lack of self-care, undiagnosed ADHD or autism. The Irish Mammy’s sense of self can be very fragile. They can feel undeserving. Or not good enough. Or are masking in the world, presenting an acceptable version of themselves.
A look to the past can reveal an adversity-filled childhood, taking care of younger siblings much too young, poverty, abuse at hands of family or oppression by church and state, disappointments, frustrations, lack of education or career opportunities, lack of support in parenting young children. But people didn’t talk about things back then. So The Irish Mammy coped as best she could. While some learned young to please others or keep the peace, others could zone out or be there-but-not-there. They could be strict on their kids, or depressed or chronically anxious, always checking. Or stubborn and difficult: a wall of resistance, like an iceberg, wearing down the will of others. Maybe they turned to the bed or the pills or the drink at times. Ireland of the 60s/70s/80s was not a psychologically-minded place and mental health issues were seen as entirely medical problems - the links to experience or context weren’t within public awareness like they are now, and entry to the psychiatric system very often compounded the suffering.
And the impacts, if not understood, affected their children, now adults, seeking answers as to why they themselves feel anxious, not seen, shameful for having needs, confused, frightened, frustrated. Compelled to please others. The culture in Ireland was once one of shame and secrecy. It seeps into the genes, resulting in generational patterns repeated. But there is no doubt that things have also changed massively. People of my generation and younger now have the words to recognise and describe these things, tough conversations can be had, insight can be made, boundaries can be established where lines have gotten blurred, trauma can be processed, and relationships can be healed. What has become stuck can be transformed. Sometimes women in their 70s come to therapy for the first time and something truly wonderful happens. Maybe it’s about a new conversation - one that sees beyond the seemingly benign -and not so benign- behaviours, to the reality of a journey of survival and fortitude.
It’s only through fully understanding of The Irish Mammy’s formative experiences, and even finding compassion for them, that healing and change for them, and for us, happens.