Falling close to the tree

Photograph by Tara Whitney

It's difficult to choose where to begin when discussing my relationship with my mom. But if you really look around my room, her influence is everywhere. As I sit here on my bed, with sheets and pillows that she helped me pick out, the truth of it is actually a little insane. From little items she's given me, to the color of my walls, the majority of my things are connected to her. So the entire concept of this blog would be lost if I didn't discuss our relationship, right? And it's going to be difficult to put it into words, to narrow it down to a blog post. But everyone at one point had a mother, so I might as well attempt to talk about mine.

I really believe that the bond between a mother and daughter can be the most supportive, soul-enriching relationship a person has. On the same hand, it can be the most volatile and destructive. They are powerful, even when they don't exist. My relationship with my mom has many, many layers. She has seen me at my absolute weakest (even meanest), most awful state. I have fought with her more than any other person. I have cried with her more than any other person. (Admittedly, we are both quite the emotional creatures.) Often, it's like we are each other's therapists. At this point, I should probably submit a co-pay when I walk through the front door.

Photograph by Hannah Schultz

She made these picture frame art-things quite a few years ago. I remember when I first saw them, I wasn't the biggest fan. When I was moving into my house last summer, she offered to let me have them. For whatever reason, my aesthetic taste had changed, so I said yes. And not only is our design taste starting to mimic the others, but I've recently started to notice that we share quite a few mannerisms and behaviors. For example, when I go into a restaurant, I cannot help but make dorky-food-related jokes to the waiter or waitress. Who did I learn this from? Take a wild guess. Occasionally, we also dress the same. When I donate clothes, she always looks through them first to see if she wants them, whether I like it or not.

So I have to wonder...is this nature or nurture? Am I genetically programmed to have this awkward humor? Or is it simply due to my upbringing? Most likely the true answer is both. But personally, I'm a much bigger believer that socialization and relationships shape personal identity. And I must also mention, my mom and I are not twins. We have some very different and important values, behaviors, and beliefs. But I know that I am similar to her, as she is similar to her mother, and so on and so on. In that way, it's kind of like we are all just modified versions of our ancestors.

So what do you think? Is it possible to be nothing like your parents? Can a person be their own, 100% unique individual? I want some real opinions here. I love my mother beyond words (especially written words), and I'm well aware that not everyone shares the same connection with their parents. I'm only twenty-years-old (for two more months!), I have a lot of growing up to do. I imagine I will continue to change. But at the core of myself, that is where my similarities with her exist. So am I a rare case of the apple not falling far from the tree, or is it normal to land near your roots?