Isabelle Silbery - Out of the Box

Raw and hilarious tales of heartache, triumph and truth

Out of the Box

Izzy, Emmie & Kerry

Silbery

To all the Mothers and Daughters out there, this is for you.

Theres no doubt, motherdaughter relationships are complex at the best of times. Mine, with my mother and grandmother, are no different. Our similarities drive me crazy, as well as our differences. Sometimes, their opinions grind me down, their constant worrying annoys me and Im still discovering things I never knew about them.

To be honest, I dont think we ever really know people. Mothers and grandmothers are a unique category of unknowable humans. Having said that, Im pretty lucky to have spent copious amounts of time with Mum and Emmie. This means, on a familiarity level at least, we have always been close.

Since becoming a mother myself, Im trying to take the lead on what it means to do the work. By that, I mean healing the little girl within me, in the hope that Mum and Em can heal theirs too and, together, we can be stronger collectively. Ive realised that, if we want to move on from the hardest parts of our lives, weve got to be honest. Yep, theres really no other way around it. Honest with ourselves and with those around us. Fuck, its a little scary, but its time.

Kerry, my mum, is in her late 60s and has never been more in her power as she is now. She gives zero fucks, is passionate about politics and human rights, and has no time for ignorance. Mum was married to my dad, a French immigrant, and I was in my early twenties when I watched them navigate the end of their marriage in heartbreaking circumstances. After working as a teacher in a Melbourne adolescent psychiatric unit for 25 years, Mum has seen it all, which has made her a worry wart. Now, she is retired down by the beach, where she looks after my grandma Emmie, and they try not to kill each other on a daily basis.

Emmie is 93. Shes blind in one eye and deaf in both ears, but her humour and wisdom are very much still intact. Back in the day, she was a nurse and went on to marry and have three children. Considering the extent of her childhood loss, Em is an eternal optimist, always seeing the good in people and situations. As she gets older, she has trouble hiding her cheeky side; her inhibitions are disappearing as quickly as the remaining time we all have together. She continually cracks me up.

I make up the third generation. I have a sneaky suspicion my inner Samantha from Sex and the City was passed down from Em, because she still comes out of the woodwork with her lustful sex-capades. I have a beautiful primary-school-aged son, Lulu, to a man Im no longer married to. Ive had my fair share of plot twists along the way, with multiple rock bottoms but unimaginable highs, too. Im engaged to Alex, who I met just before the first lockdown during the COVID-19 pandemic. But thats another story

When it comes to getting shit done, I take the organiser role among Mum, Emmie and me. This sometimes drives me bananas and Ive been known to chuck the odd tanty. Like I said, our similarities drive me crazy, as do our differences and they trigger me in many ways Im not always prepared for. But theres one thing that binds us together: unconditional love and support.

In 2016, we embarked on something that would bind us together in a whole new way. Gogglebox!

Who knew it would be successful a show where viewers watch people watching TV? Writing the application was easy. I started to think about the kinds of women who appear on other reality TV shows; it was clear, there was a lack of real women. Suddenly, I had a fire in my belly. Maybe, we were exactly what was needed: three real everyday women, across a spectrum of ages, doing our thing. There would be no faking it, no filtering of our opinions, no editing out our bickering or tears. It was a warts-and-all application. We hung out together every night anyway, so it seemed like an easy gig.

When I told Emmie wed been selected, her response was less than enthusiastic.

Shit, she said. I dont want to be on TV.

Shit, I replied. Well, we start next week!

Shit. Well, do I have time to get my false tooth fixed?

Fourteen seasons later, what you see on TV is exactly how we are off-screen. The show has allowed our motherdaughter relationships to strengthen and flourish. We challenge, test and laugh at ourselves, pushing each others buttons along the way. When life throws one of its many curve balls, however, were always right there for each other (unless Mum is really pissing me off).

Little did we know, Gogglebox would give us a unique opportunity to be unashamedly ourselves. Shame can hold back so many of us in life, but now, we just say, Fuck it, Im me.

The conversations weve had from what weve watched on Gogglebox have sparked many debates. Some anecdotes I never saw coming, but theres still so much to learn.

Writing this book has been another level of learning. Its forced us to ask some big questions of each other, and take the time to really think about the answers and question them. To be vulnerable and open to delving into our own stories, while seeing one anothers from a different perspective.

Ive come to realise that asking questions is the key to connection. Letting myself be truly seen isnt easy, especially by my mother or grandmother. Its scary, emotionally draining but also completely rewarding. Im bloody thankful to have this opportunity for us to really know one another. These two women never cease to amaze me. My hope is that this book allows you to find deep connections within your own generations.

Isabelle x

Mum came in with the tray of tea. Ems biscuits were a little burnt, as usual, but I couldnt care less about the biscuits. I felt sick. Our usual afternoon tea and chats were going to be a big one today. I didnt know how they were going to react to my announcement.

It was 2013. Mum was enjoying her new-found freedom as an older single woman, going out every night and living life to the full. I was fully independent (as you would hope at age 29), married and working full-time, and Emmie was living independently and enjoying her weekly water aerobics. Were they ready to hear that I had an eight-week-old prune growing inside me? That our lives would be changed forever?

Ive got something to tell you, I announced.

They both stopped like statues. Their facial expressions showed deep concern. Always the same with those two overreaction stations. They almost expect me to announce that Ive killed someone and I need help hiding the body. If that ever happened, as much as they would be nagging my ear off about all the obvious legal and moral ramifications, I dont doubt that, at the same time, theyd both be helping me hide the body, walker and all.

Im pregnant.

Mum went off first. Jesus, Isabelle!

Youre what? Emmie asked

Mum continued. What about work? I thought you were loving your job?

What did she say? Emmie turned to Mum, trying to catch up.

Im pregnant, Em.

Oh, I thought you said you were infected.

After a bit of back and forth with the obvious questions How do you know? and Are you sure youre ready? Emmies face turned to joy. I could see how the idea of me becoming a mother made her heart happy. As for Mum, well, it took her a while to adjust to the idea. Her words, I certainly will not be called Granny or Nan, no way! seem almost laughable, all these years later. Looking back, I think becoming pregnant triggered them both, whether or not they were conscious of it. They both had experienced the hardship of mothering the loss of ones self as they knew it, the inevitable strain it puts on a marriage, and the potential for it all to fall apart.