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How I Learned to Say "I Love You"
By Elizabeth Palmer
How many times, as a child and adolescent, did my Mom say to me, "I love you," only to get a blank look in return? Hundreds? Thousands? Enough times to make her feel uncertain about how she was succeeding as a mother. For some reason I couldn't return the sentiment. I don't know why. I felt the emotion, but the words wouldn't come out of my mouth. Afterwards, I would feel as though I had let her down. Why couldn't I return the verse?
I wonder if she ever doubted that I loved her? Occasionally she would gently ask me, "Why can't you say 'I love you, Mom?'" All I could offer was another blank look. If she were fortunate enough to say those three words while I was running off somewhere, I would respond, hurriedly, "I love you, too." But to be standing in front of her and admit, "I love you," I couldn't do it. I compare those moments of yesteryear to that uncomfortable sensation of embarrassment.
Maybe I thought it wasn't something kids were supposed to admit? Maybe I was afraid she would get too mushy on me? I don't know what prevented me, but I just didn't feel comfortable saying the words "I love you." It wasn't because I didn't love her. I did. I was like that with everyone. Unfortunately, Mom would receive my unintentional emotional punishment more than anyone else would.
My parents weren't overly affectionate, at least not in front of me. They loved each other deeply, but their own childhood was probably not witness to great communication, especially the expression of feelings. Mom came from a family of 12 children and her father was always off working. Her mother and older siblings raised the children. Dad was the oldest of three children, but his two younger siblings were born after he had gone off to sea. He came from a very British family; one that I suspect lacked family bonding. I was his first experience with children.
Occasionally I would hear Mom and Dad expressing their love for one another. Looking back on those memories, I remember feeling uncomfortable. My mom was more open about her feelings than my dad. I guess I took after him.
