Liz's Escapades

Liz would not keep quiet about getting her mother to join her in her lessons. Liz had been a lost soul, and her mother knew it. She partly blamed herself of always indulging Liz in whatever she wanted. She had the means to, so why not? Well, that is how she used to think. Now, looking back, Margret could see the error of her ways, and how it could have been much worse. 

Margaret had not been born into high society like some of her social circle. She had married into it. She had married for convenience rather than for a passionate, crippling love. She had experienced that before, but something in her craved stability, security and Gucci more than she craved “love”. Her marriage however, had not been a bad one. She had grown to love her husband and he had always been kind and faithful, as far as she could tell. Now in their 60s they were both enjoying retirement, with walks in their garden, swimming in their indoor pool, or reading in their sun room. Unlike Margret, Phil did not pay much attention to Liz and her inability to dedicate to anything. Liz had always been Margaret’s job. 

Margaret had struggled to conceive, so when Liz was born, she promised to ensure her child would have the most grand life she could provide. This coupled with the fact that Margaret felt guilty that Liz would have an older parents and no siblings meant she dived into distracting Liz with things and activities. If Liz was unhappy, even for a second, Margaret would do anything to make sure she stopped crying. 

When Liz was a toddler, it was giving her whatever toy she wanted. 

As a child, it was having the cook only make the food Liz wanted to eat. 

As a teenager it was allowing Liz to drop any activity that became “too difficult” like ballet, painting, archery, netball and so on. Looking back now, Margaret realised that she had created a young woman who did not know how to cope with things that caused the slightest displeasure.

In Liz’s 20s, she had not been able to hold down a job for a full year before quitting. She quit from her first job working for an interior design company  as the “clients were too difficult”. The next one she left because her boss was “intolerable”. The 3 jobs that followed seemed to stink of the same theme. It was the fault of others as to why she could not work there, never her own.  

One of the few things Liz did manage to complete was university. However, even that took an extra 2 years as Liz prioritised partying over school. She failed her first year studying psychology. She changed discipline the following year, to which she just barely passed, and then failed the year after. However, surprisingly Liz stuck with her degree, doing quite well with her repeated year and her final year. Liz was able to achieve her B.Sc  in Interior Design. 

This gave Margaret hope for her daughter. Perhaps Liz could still end up on a self-efficient path. One in which her parents would not be her soul financial contributors. However, that soon disappeared and any remnants of hope that might have been there were squashed with Liz walking out of the third job. Liz quitting job 4 and job 5 were of no surprise. Then something else happened. A month after quitting her final job, Liz told her mum she was going on to India to learn to become a yoga teacher. A couple days later Liz was on a plane and on her way. Much like everything else in Liz’s life, her mother and father were financing this too. 

Margaret thought this would be one of her many escapades that lead to nothing. But when Liz came back she almost seemed obsessed with her new role. She rented a space, created classes, printed flyers and posted on social media. The initial start up was funded by none other than Margaret and Phil, but slowly slowly Liz began to make this hobby a business and her classes grew fuller and fuller. 

Liz not only looked like she had finally pulled herself up by her bootstraps but also tried to convince everyone around her, including her mother, how beneficial it was. It was relentless. 

“Mum it would help your upper back.”

“Mum, you are too stressed, I think you should join my class on Monday.” 

“Mum, this could help with your cholesterol.”

“Mum, you don’t even know how amazing you’ll feel in the long term.”

Margaret was about sick of it. She had not realised her daughter was so extreme in personality. The all in or all out sort of girl. Perhaps finally achieving her degree alit something within her, and perhaps it lay dormant for a while until now, where it was burning wildly. Margaret wanted Liz to leave her out of it, but at the same time, she did not want to discourage Liz. 

The truth of it was, Margaret just felt “too old” for yoga. She didn’t think of herself as old very often, but the thought of her on the floor trying to reach for a foot or upside down in downwards facing dog was just not appealing. She had done it once before. Thinking of herself unable to do the poses did make her feel old, and the pain that came with those new sort of stretches made her more unwilling to partake in her daughters classes.  

She had told Liz this one time and Liz had replied by saying “It only hurts a little in the beginning, the more you practice the easier it gets, you’re never too old for yoga”. That didn’t make her feel any better. So every time Liz asked or offered for her mother to join her, Margret came up with an excuse. 

“Well, honey Mondays I have my book club” or “oh this Wednesday will be a bit difficult because your father and I are going to the golf range”. 

Then the day came. Liz offered her mum to join her, but Margaret had no believable excuse to give. So she reluctantly agreed. She did want her outright refusal to crush her daughter and all her hard work. 

The next day, she walked into the empty hall with the yoga mat Liz had bought her for Christmas still wrapped in plastic. A few seconds later Liz came stumbling in through the door holding more water bottles than seemed possible. 

“Mum! You actually came” she said with a glow exuding from her, “one second let me put these bottles down, they’re for class”. Liz made her way to the front of the space and placed her bottled on the table in the corner. She rearranged them with speed then walked back to her mum and said “your a little early, but that’s not a problem you can help me bring the spare mats in.” 

“Well I came to make sure I could sit all the way at the back of the class.” 

Liz laughed a little, “you can sit wherever you want, I’m just glad you came.” 

They both walked out the room together, Liz glowing, and her mother slightly chuffed at how happy her appearance had made her daughter. Perhaps she would make this a more common occurrence.