tagIncest/TabooConfessions of a Loving Mother

Confessions of a Loving Mother


I watched my mother looking through the window.

She was in the kitchen washing the dishes on a weekend morning. She's a lawyer. Her schedule is always hectic. Often times she spends long hours in the office meeting with clients or writing legal briefs. If she had a courtroom appearance, she would spend her nights doing research on the computer and preparing for strenuous oral arguments. She has always been a naturally hard worker with a powerful drive to be successful.

On the rare occasion that she has some free time, she enjoys doing normal things. Usually she enjoys cooking and sharing food with other people. Other times she enjoys going on long jogs alone. If the weather is warm, she'll insist that we go on bike rides together, or to the beach.

Weeks ago she told me that she was going to begin seeing a therapist. It came as a complete surprise since she always seemed so happy and optimistic about life. I never asked her why, since it's such a personal decision. I figured that if she wanted me to know her reasons, then she would simply tell me.

Confessions of a Loving Mother

It was a typical weekend morning, which meant that my mother was probably cooking again. She didn't have an upcoming trial, so she probably cooked and baked a lot of food. When I went to the kitchen for breakfast, there she was, in an apron near the stove.

"Right on time," she said.

The food was prepared, and we sat down to eat together.

My mother randomly slid a pamphlet across the table to me. "I'll be attending Dr. Rossii's two-day seminar in a few months. Have you ever heard of him?"

"Yeah, I think so," I replied, briefly looking through the pamphlet. "He's been on cable news a bunch of times, right?"

"That's him. My therapist recommend him to me. They're close friends. I'm also scheduled to have a few private meetings with Dr. Rossii since he'll be in town for a couple of weeks."

"Yeah, and I'm guessing those private meetings aren't free either."

"The price is listed on the back," she said reluctantly.

I looked at the back of the pamphlet and I couldn't believe it. "Jeez, mom, you're paying all that for a seminar?"

"Well, I'll be paying more since I'll have private meetings with him. It's worth every penny."

"How do you know?" I asked.

"You can't have a stellar reputation like Dr. Rossii has unless there's substance and legitimacy behind it. My therapist recommended him for good reason."

"Yeah, and if this seminar is a scam, you could always sue him," I joked.

"That wasn't very funny."

"Sorry mom. It's just that, you're obviously a really smart woman, and I can't figure out why you're spending so much time and money on stuff like this."

"You wouldn't understand," she replied.

"How do you know?"

"You just wouldn't," she replied with a little more authority.

"I think I'm old enough. I mean, if you need someone to talk to, besides a therapist or a famous doctor, then I'll gladly listen. Seriously, I don't mind."

My mother gave me a kind-hearted smile. "You're so sweet. You really are. It's touching to hear you say that."

"What else do you expect?" I smiled back, like it was no big deal. "I guess I'm a nice guy."

"Of course you are," she replied, half sarcastically.


Months later. It was late at night on a Saturday. I was sitting in the living room watching tv, when I heard my mother park in the driveway. She had just returned from the first day of the seminar, as well as a private meeting with Dr. Rossii. When she opened the door, there was a beaming look on her face. As always, she was professionally dressed.

"So how did it go?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"Amazing," she said happily. "The whole thing was excellent."

"Really? That's great."

She closed the front door, took off her shoes, and sat next to me on the couch.

She smiled again, "It was wonderful. His words at the seminar really spoke to me. I could relate to everything he was saying. He's a very smart man. I was even more impressed when we got to meet backstage privately. My therapist was right, Dr. Rossii is truly one of the most intelligent people in the field of psychology."

While my mother was talking, my eyes slowly drifted back to the movie I was watching. There was an action scene, but I didn't want to ignore my mother, especially when she was in such a good mood.

"Uh huh," I replied, trying not to sound rude. "That's great mom. It really is."

"Are you listening?"

I turned back to her. "Yeah, Dr. Rossii is a very smart man."

She gave me a playfully stern look. "I'll leave you with the tv then. We'll continue this conversation when you're a bit more attentive."

"Sorry mom. Your story just doesn't have enough excitement compared to the tv," I jokingly replied, turning my eyes back to the movie.

"Unfortunately not. Good night. Don't stay up too late."

"Night mom."

She leaned forward to give me a kiss on the forehead, then she went to bed.


Weeks passed. After my mother finished the two-day seminar with Dr. Rossii, she continued seeing him on a weekly basis, in addition to her own therapist. She couldn't stop gushing about the doctor whenever she had private meetings with him. It was professional, but it was somewhat obvious that she was starting to have feelings for him. The thought of her being romantic with someone was great, because she rarely goes on dates. Her career schedule could be hectic, but she always made time for him during the weekends.

My mother never told me why it was so important for her to see Dr. Rossii. I was just glad that she was happy talking to someone, even though I've always been skeptical of expensive therapy. Whatever they've been doing, it seemed to be working.


Sunday morning. I came down the stairs for breakfast. I didn't see my mother the night before because she had another late night meeting with Dr. Rossii. It was their last official meeting because of his busy schedule on the road. My mother came home late, and a part of me naturally assumed that they had sex. It wouldn't have surprised me if my mother announced that they were officially dating. She was always gushing talking about him.

"Morning," she said.

I looked at the table and noticed that there was more food than usual. Now that she had more free time on her hands, she was back to her old self. Breakfast was freshly cooked for both of us. She also baked enough pastries to last for several days.

"Hey mom. Thanks for the food. God, it's been a long time since you've made anything like this."

"I know. I wanted to get back to doing what I love. It's been a while since I've used the oven. I've made so much that I'll probably share most of it with the neighbors."

"Good idea. It wouldn't be very healthy for us to eat all of this alone."

She smiled and sat down. "Come on, let's eat while it's still hot."

We both started to eat, and I told her how good the food was. By the look on her face, she really appreciated my comment. After a while, things became silent.

"So how was the last meeting with Dr. Rossii?" I asked, breaking the silence.

She looked down at her plate. "I won't be seeing him anymore in the future."

Of all the possible things she could have said, I wasn't expecting to hear that. She continued looking down at her plate, as if to avoid the topic.

"Really? Why?"

I shouldn't have asked, but I was just too curious.

"Long story," she replied. "I don't want to talk about it over breakfast."

"No worries."

I went back to eating, and then my mother looked at me. I could tell that she was thinking to herself, wondering if she should tell me or not. She knew I was curious.

"He invited me to dinner last night," she said reluctantly. "Then he insisted that we go to his place for a final discussion to conclude our meetings. I agreed. After we got settled in, he told me to close my eyes. When my eyes were closed, he kissed me hard and squeezed my breasts."

I was taken aback by my mother's explicit story. "Oh no. What did you do?"

"What do you think? I pushed him away and left. I made sure to call him a 'creep' and a 'sleaze' and an 'asshole' before I got the hell out of there."

"Yeah, but in all fairness, what did you expect was going happen? He took you out to dinner, then invited you to his place. Anyone could have figured out that he wanted, you know, to do other stuff."

She hesitantly nodded. "Maybe you're right. I may have been a bit naive at that moment. But that's not the point. He breached the trust. As a doctor, he should know where the boundaries are, just like I do with my clients."

"True. But people are people. When people have their urges, all that client/patient stuff goes out the window."

"Are you taking his side?" she asked with a stern motherly expression.

"No. No. Of course not," I replied, immediately back tracking.

"Good. I understand your point. I wasn't out to 'tease' him, and I'm not a cold person. But you have to understand, this is different because I entrusted him with so much personal information about me. Our relationship is based on trust. I have to wonder, if he was actually interested in helping me, or if he was just trying to get inside my panties for sex."

"Oh, well that makes total sense."

"It's too bad," she said sadly. "He's a great guy. Our meetings were extremely productive. I really like his techniques and his different approaches."

"At least you still have your regular therapist right?" I replied, trying to make her feel better.

She let out a sigh. "No. I probably won't be seeing him either."

"How come?"

"Because my therapist and Dr. Rossii are close friends. They used to be roommates together. It would be extremely awkward meeting with my therapist again after everything that happened with Dr. Rossii."

"So what are you going to do?" I asked. "Are you going to find another therapist?"

"I haven't decided yet. But for now, we should enjoy all of this food."

"Good call mom."

I grabbed a muffin that she freshly baked and took a big bite. I nodded, giving her my approval. She was happy that I liked it so much.


Two weeks later. I came home after spending part of the afternoon in a study group with my friends. The door to my mother's room was closed, but I could hear her talking on the phone. After changing my clothes, I went down to the living room and watched tv.

My mother came down the stairs during the same time. She went to the kitchen and released a loud sigh.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing. I don't want to bother you," she said, while preparing herself a cup of tea.

Her attitude was passive. I'm not an expert on women, but I knew that she wanted someone to talk with. Besides, if I didn't say anything to her, she probably would have been in a worse mood later. The last thing I needed was for her to eventually aim her frustrations towards me, so I turned off the television and went to the kitchen.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" she smiled, when she saw me walking towards her.


My mother took out an extra cup and made me some tea. We both sat down at the dining room table. When I took a sip of the drink, I tried not to wince from how strong it tasted.

"Not bad," I said.

"You don't need to pretend. I can tell you don't like it."

"Is this how tea is supposed to taste?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Oh," I replied, taking another sip. "So what were you so upset about earlier?"

"I'm having trouble finding another therapist."

I was surprised. "You can't find another therapist in this city? Really? They're everywhere."

"Well, I can. But I can't find a therapist who's willing to sign my nondisclosure forms, and other legal documents."

"Nondisclosure forms and documents? Therapists are supposed to be discreet. It's part of their job."

She shrugged. "I know, what can I say? I'm nervous about my personal information getting out. I'm also a bit worried about trusting a new therapist with all of my secrets."

My mother said it casually, but the words "secrets" caught my attention. A part of me was curious about what 'secrets' she had.

"What's so important about seeing a therapist anyway?" I asked.

"I've always been a talkative person. I love expressing myself. It makes me feel better. That's why I need a therapist, someone who's paid to sit there and listen to me rambling away. Gosh, I wish Dr. Rossii wasn't such a creep. He was the best listener I've ever met, and he always gave me insight comments in return."

"That doesn't sound hard. Like I said before, if you need someone to talk to, I'm here for you."

She sharpened her eyes, unsure if I was serious or not. "I appreciate the gesture. I really do. But it might not be very appropriate given the subject matter."

Once again, her words caught my attention.

"Are you sure? I'm an adult now."

"A college student is barely an adult in my opinion," she replied. "At least compared to someone my age. Besides, I'm your mother. It's different."

"Fair enough. Let me know if you ever change your mind."

"That won't be happening," she smiled. "But thanks for the offer, and for keeping me company."

I smiled back and took another sip of the tea, which was kind of disgusting.


Several nights later. We ate dinner as usual. Everything was the same as always. When we finished, my mother took the plates away and opened the refrigerator to get the desserts. She insisted that I sit down while she did all of the work. Naturally, I became suspicious. It was kind of obvious that she wanted a favor, but I didn't know what.

It wasn't long before we finished our homemade desserts. When it was done, my mother gave me another one of her patented motherly smiled, which showed that she was glad that I liked her food.

I looked at her playfully. "I'm assuming that you're washing the dishes tonight since you're being extra nice all of a sudden."

She shrugged, like it was no big deal. "Sure. But I wanted to ask you something first. Do you remember when you offered to listen to me if I ever needed someone to talk to?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"Well, I'd like to accept that offer," she smiled.

I tried my best to keep my jaw from dropping. Sure, I wanted my mother to be happy. Sure, I wanted to help her in any way that I could. But I never thought she would actually take the offer. By the look on her face, she was ready to do a lot of talking- and with me of all people.

"Oh, well what changed your mind?" I replied, trying to sound as diplomatic as possible.

"I'm having difficulties finding a therapist which can suit my needs. So I've been thinking a lot about your offer. You've always been there for me, and you're a great listener, which is really what I need most. You're also very mature for your age, which is important because the topics I'd like to discuss are mostly sexual."

When I heard the word "sexual" coming from my mother's mouth, my attitude immediately changed. Suddenly I found myself becoming eager, and interested, in ways that I hadn't expected.

"That sounds like something I can handle."

"I'm glad you think so," she replied. "I also think this would be a great opportunity to develop your communications skills for when you become a lawyer one day. This type of one-on-one interaction is extremely useful when dealing with clients."

"That makes sense," I nodded, completely agreeing with her.

"Great. Then it's settled."

Immediately there was a sense of awkwardness between us. Neither of us knew what to do in that very moment.

"So, do we start now?" I asked, unsure of what to do.

"I think tomorrow would be best. We can take all the time we need if we start in the morning."

"I'm looking forward to it," I smiled.

She smiled back. "Me too."


I didn't know what to expect the next morning. I just carried on with my normal routine. Frankly, I didn't expect my mother to ask me about the whole therapy thing again. I figured she probably came to her senses and realized that I would be horrible to talk to about personal matters. What would I say? Not much. What insight could I give? Not a whole lot.

It was unexpected later that morning when my mother finally asked for our first "session" to begin. She was playful about it, and even referred to me as her new therapist. But at the same time, I could tell that she was taking this seriously. My mother is someone who loves talking, and needs to get things off her chest to feel relieved. I understood why this was important to her.

When I got to the living room, I saw that my mother had rearranged the furniture so that it would look like an actual therapist's office. She turned one of the couches away, so that I couldn't see her. She would be more comfortable that way.

We both sat down. Then we began.

"What do you want to talk about?" I asked, unsure of what to say.

"You're supposed to ask me a question," she said, laying down on the couch.

I thought as fast as I could for a question that would be reasonable, yet professional. I wanted to take this seriously because my mother put so much faith in me.

"What's your biggest fear in life?" I finally asked.

She thought for a moment. "At this moment, not finding a husband. I'm not getting any younger. My clock is ticking. Men don't keep track of these things, but women do. Our appearances are important."

"Then what's stopping you? You rarely go on dates, even though there are plenty of guys who would be interested in someone like you."

She paused for a few seconds. "It's complicated."

At that moment, I realized that this was the issue that my mother was seeking therapy for. She was clearly apprehensive about telling me her secret. But deep down, she wanted to talk about it, otherwise she wouldn't have asked me to be her "therapist." It was an important issue she was still struggling with.

"We've got plenty of time," I replied.

She paused again, thinking to herself. "I've always had a problem with nudity. It makes me uncomfortable, no matter who I'm with. Obviously that makes it difficult for me to be intimate with another man."

I was completely taken aback. How was I supposed to respond to that? But I became far more curious, even though it was incredibly inappropriate for me to even ask about it.

"Was there anything that caused you to be this way?" I finally asked. "Or did you always have this phobia."

"It was something I was conditioned with. My parents are the most religious people I've ever met. To them, nudity was impure. It led to impure thoughts. It lead to immoral behavior. So, I was expected to always dress conservatively. I would always be shamed by them whenever my skin was showing."

For the very first time, I was getting a glimpse into my mother's hidden sexual side. It was intriguing, even though I shouldn't have known these things.

"That sounds common with a lot of people with religious backgrounds. Some of them stayed that way, some of them rebelled against it later in life."

"I know," she replied. "When I was younger, I used to be so afraid of nudity and exposing my own body. When I became older, I had strong fantasies of wanting to be naked. Maybe I wanted to rebel against my upbringing in some way. When I was 18, something happened that changed me."

"Tell me what happened," I said, curiously.

The phone suddenly rang. I was denied hearing the answer to that question when my mother got up, told me to wait, and then she answered the phone. After she talked for a few moments, she told me that it was an important phone call relating to her work, and that our "therapy" session was done for the day.

I moved the living room furniture back to its normal position while my mother talked with one of her colleagues, another lawyer. The session with my mother was an eye opening experience, and I found myself hoping we would do it again.

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