Princess Merida from the Disney animated feature film, Brave (2012), exhibited much conflict with her mother, Queen Elinor and one night, out of a spit of anger, the protagonist swung a sword and slashed the family tapestry. The central conflict in this movie is the eternal struggle between mothers and daughters. Merida, who values self-determination, and Elinor, who values tradition, clash with each other and what’s at stake is the daughter’s very choice.

While no spells were cast and no potions were consumed in our family, my daughter’s relationship with her mother is knotted with dichotomies. She loves her mother very much, but the expression of affection is often suffocated by words of misunderstanding. Exuberance to new things is draped in assumptions and judgement which quickly snuffs out any spark of excitement. Add to this, the mother’s natural protective nature within a divorced arrangement where the father (me) has a completely different approach to parenting, it’s a tenuous situation that is incendiary with the tiniest of spark.

I don’t get involved with the affairs at the other house and it is certainly not a competition. But when my daughter is with me, I try to give her the best experience of childhood I am capable of. I would do this whether I was married to the mother or not; whether she was in our lives or not; or even whether she is with us or not. But for me, as a co-parent, I try to make sure that my daughter has a relationship with her mother. But the quality of that relationship is up to her…them.

 

I am familiar with my daughter’s struggle: I couldn’t make it work with her mom and our relationship ended in divorce. My daughter doesn’t have the luxury to emancipate herself. But I have no doubt that my daughter will find her place and her peace.

 

As much as my daughter procrastinates and puts off hurried steps to return to her mother’s after a rotation with me, I remain neutral and encourage her to have dialog with her mother knowing full well that it is not the words that will bring alignment, but actions and especially emotional placement. Without this, everything else is just going through the motions filling up time with little or no forward movement. Over time, either party may feel exasperated and powerless. With little progress, the distance becomes even greater. I have no doubt that the relationship will eventually mature and as one side fails to meaningfully influence the other, the best that can be achieved is an entente. Why does everything always get worse before it gets better?

This isn’t to say that mothers and daughters are always tumultuous. Some are great. Many aren’t. And a few are just bad. Regardless, the two may remain adrift from each other for some time—often years. This is the pattern so often seen where the child makes certain realization after living a number of years as an adult; and the mother makes certain realizations that a child doesn’t stay that way forever. While this reunion may be long in the making, what’s tragic is that the journey is often fraught with periods of resentment, self-imposed isolation and conflicted loyalties exacting heavy costs as much time will pass and many opportunities missed.

As in the movie Brave, the father, King Fergus, plays little to no role in the mending of this tapestry and so I, like many fathers, play only a secondary role in the drama between my daughter and her mother. I would never tell my ex-wife that she should do anything differently, any more than I would tell my daughter to appease her. For the most part, I am a spectator of this drama. It truly is a coming-of-age performance where I may or may not have a role at the end. While Disney stories may mirror life itself, the reverse isn’t always true. If there’s a happy ending, then that benefits all. But sometimes, the struggle is not resolved. I wish everyone to find their way. I wish everyone to see each other’s viewpoints. But I am familiar with my daughter’s struggle: I couldn’t make it work with her mom and our relationship ended in divorce. My daughter doesn’t have the luxury to emancipate herself. But I have no doubt that my daughter will find her place and her peace. She knows that she can love and is loved. All she needs is time, but that choice must always be hers.