Womb Healing

Desperate to escape her mother’s searching stares, Suzie announces that she is tired and ready to sleep. Luckily her bedroom is in the attic so no one can disturb her, at least without fair warning. To Suzie’s mother’s credit, she doesn’t say another word and just lets her go. Suzie never seems to want to talk to her these days and she is worried about the things left unsaid. A deep breath inward and she is transported into a long buried memory about her own mother...and their relationship. These are not comforting thoughts. She moves, her body a grimace, to put on the kettle. It’s late and her brain will ensure she will be up for awhile...

Dear mom,

The only reason I exist today is because of your rejection of me.

Thank you.

It makes sense that a woman such as yourself who hates to be vulnerable or honest would then give birth to her mirror.

Besides love, which is often assumed when it comes to parenting (assumed not guaranteed), mothering requires the acts of acceptance and honesty from the parent to the child. This is fundamental and you were never able to give that to yourself. Nor did you ever receive it from your own mother.

We have never got along for long. Yet I have been walking in your shadow my whole life.

The few times I have been lucky enough to collect life stories from you have reinforced to me that a lot of the pain, you work so hard to cover up, has escaped and been transferred to me.

In my short life I have already found myself in devastating situations only to learn after the fact that these are things you had experienced, albeit in different ways, but you chose to keep buried, hidden with all your other trauma. And I understand that. It’s for self protection.

Except the bullets ricochet off your safety vest onto me.

I have heard you discuss the mistreatment and lack of love you experienced as a little girl only once. You told a story which ultimately resulted in you being shamed –

for being you.

Spoken without knowing I was listening, I remember approaching you afterwards, mirror first, as I told you, “this is exactly how you treat me.”

You just looked me dead in my eyes and blinked. Which is your natural fight or flight response to every time I embolden myself and demonstrate vulnerability around you.

Mom I have depression. Blink.

Mom I can’t seem to stop these suicidal thoughts. Blink.

Mom it really hurts me when...

And then you go on to talk openly about how you act as mentor and kind friend to other young women through your work and within your social life. You are literally recognized for, applauded and awarded publicly for your material success and generosity as I, your eldest daughter, have lived in bankruptcy for quite some time. Again, I understand. All in the name of self protection.

For so long I believed that there was something wrong with me. That I was the problem.

And you willingly allowed me to believe that as you watched my spirit deteriorate and co signed my role as the crazy, unstable one in the family.

When I hear about or read the words from other mothers who pledge such sweet loyalty and protection to their children – I have only ever felt confused because well,

that has never felt like the case with you.

And I helped you do it. I never had the self esteem to protest your projections of self unto me. I was, and have been all my life, the easiest scapegoat. And this role has played out and been re-enacted throughout all my relationships.

When I think of all the hurt I have shouldered throughout the years and how much you spearheaded whether intentionally or not –

You wanted me to be and do all the things you never got to experience fully for yourself. A model,

OUTGOING,

vivacious,

university educated.

Basically you with opportunity.

You told me once, after I pressed for the truth, that you view me as a disappointment. And for a long time I held that same viewpoint about myself.

But for whatever reason I have lived long enough now to understand that my crime/my gift/my destiny(!) was to be born a reflection. Yours.

You couldn’t wish me into being the you, you presented to the world. All the things you buried deep only to be reincarnated into your eldest.

You did tell me in a rare moment, that I am the only daughter to listen to you, ask how you feel and make you reflect upon your life –

No wonder you hate me...

And I have compassion for that.

I was born a self hating mirror. I tried so hard to “change”, “get better” and conform to how you wished me to be and obviously that led to more messiness between us. No one likes a try hard much less one without confidence, including my own mother.

I love you mom. This is just simply the truth as I know it to be and though it hurts, I don’t want to live in any other reality. Not to prolong the pain, but, to understand it so I may have compassion for it and heal it.

We have already spent both of our lifetimes running away from ourselves, albeit, in different ways. Well, I’m looking into the mirror now and it hurts in its liberation. And at times I question if I can withstand the pain and it is then that I need a mother the most.

I don’t know if we will ever come back into each other’s lives within this lifetime. But I do know that the next time we see each other, what will be reflected back to you, through me, will be love.

I am currently doing the hard work of mothering myself.

The world won’t recognize this. There will be no flowers sent or instagram posts in my honour. Which means you as you are now will never recognize me.

I don’t blame you for anything.

Anymore.

You were never taught so you didn’t teach. My gift to myself is to learn.

Childless at an age where women like me are called spinster or lesbian. Without a partner, I take care of myself through my own resilience, intelligence, creativity and strength. All things of which you have in spades and have also passed down to me.

I am living an independent life which is a gift you have never given yourself.

I seek personal responsibility all while I struggle to keep my faith and honour the truth, and in doing so stop being the reflection and become the person beyond the looking glass.

It is only in this state that I can choose what is to be reflected.

So when we do cross paths again mom

....

...

..

.

Know that when you see me you will see love. Love and acceptance birthed from the thorns of inner blooming.

As a first time mother, I am terrified but committed. I imagine that is how you felt, especially being as young as you were when you had me.

With only faith, I create a self beyond your reflection and a legacy for myself beyond what is inherited. I create my liberation.

Now to seek -

What else am I?

Signed,

The daughter you may have never wanted but is certainly needed