My Mother Taught Me...

Honoring our mothers. In the hard times and the blessings, the lessons and the laughter. As an adult I learned about “tricky families” and what that means. Abuse isn’t always obvious. It isn’t something that you think about when you look back at your childhood and play the movies back in your mind on the memory film, and remember how very good it was.

I acknowledge that my mother did the very best with what she knew at the time. I used to say that I grew up in a fairytale childhood. The stay-at-home mother, father in the Navy, all the luxuries and conveniences that we could ever ask for. We had it all. We were well taken care of and we wanted for nothing.

My mother taught me that strength isn’t something you get when you are fighting. It’s something that slowly builds up within you as you live through trauma, struggle and adversity. It is the still and quiet voice you hear when you need to keep going. Strength is earned.

My mother taught me that emotions matter in a world that was not ready to accept that fact. She was ahead of her time and often cast out of places for her ideals and beliefs. Her children were called heathens and not wanted around because we questioned everything. We were the politest, well mannered and grounded kids you would ever meet, and old folks loved my sister and I for our intense listening skills when they were speaking from a place of experience and knowing, of a life we could only imagine.

My mother taught me what love is and what it isn’t. And only after becoming a mother myself, I can tell you that I have relived my childhood through every age of each of my beautiful children, and healed wounds that I didn't know existed until they mirrored them back to me with their authenticity and presence. Love is not something you say, or something you can count on being there just because you are (which I have discovered, is untrue). Love is an action that takes every fiber of your being to conjure from somewhere past the depths of your own pain, a fire that burns brightly inside of us that we tend. It is the practice of doing for oneself and others without expectation, delusion, and projection. The care and consideration of oneself and others that transcends any hurts we have previously experienced. We can have trauma and still love.

My mother taught me to love the haters. I say this, and it sounds simple now in a world that understands what this means, but in the 80’s and the early 90’s before the internet, loving the haters is something that wasn’t widely taught or understood. Living in the arena of your life, daring to be you, despite the cookie cutter world that tries to trim your edges, and dull your shine so that you fit into an accepted norm which makes it possible to categorize you… was a brave act indeed. Feelings didn’t matter at that time and you should “suck it up” and “lick your wounds” if you want to succeed in life. I learned something else instead. I learned that I can be hated and still be my best self without being wounded and without having to take it.

My mother taught me that we can endure anything. Resilience is tied to hope, which is the foundation of gratitude and joy. These words are thrown around a lot these days, but it was in my early years when I experienced how they mattered, and it has been a blessing as a parent to comprehend the depth of their importance. I continue to use these as a compass with my own children and their lives and their lessons and teach them the truth that “they matter no matter what and regardless of what they accomplish.” They are always worthy of love.

My mother taught me that perfectionism is a sickness and that people are not possessions. By being possessed by my mother who valued achievements as a status symbol and a gauge of one’s worth, I have been able to unravel within my own life, the real meaning of success, connection and belonging. She may not have known the way to teach us through good examples, but what she gave me personally has been the drive to do better, to be better and to learn until I am better, each and every day. Even if that means doing nothing. By being by myself when I need to be, taking a bath and leaving the dishes in the sink for the next day, I honor myself. While I rest and take care of myself or play with my children, instead of working an extra shift, driving myself to exhaustion for approval, or people pleasing my way into the hearts of others so I am liked, I am practicing self care. This was not a concept when I was a child. Self care did not exist.

My mother taught me the most important things in life. That it changes, regardless of how invested you are in your story, or your ideals. It changes consciously or unconsciously depending on what you are willing to give and do for it. Life is the culmination of everything you do and don’t know and you live somewhere in between that place. Both making it, and letting it happen. Circumstances do not have to define us, they can shape us, but it is up to us to create our lives. It is up to each of us, in every action, thought, deed and intention to be the captain of our vessel. In rough seas, or calm waters, we get to decide how we view the landscape of our lives and what we are willing to do to make it the best we know how to. With gratitude and hope, we make our way through this existence and persevere through everything we encounter with a loving heart and an open mind.

“Question everything,” she told us. “Because in doing so, you will get the answers you need to choose well.”

In honor of everything my mother taught me.