Not For Show

When my son cries, I soothe him. The voice that still plays in my head is my father’s: “If you don’t stop crying, I’ll give you something to cry about.” My son wants to be held often, consistently. In elementary school, my mother corrected me: “I don’t want a hug. That’s your dad’s side of the family.” My son is free to exist, not perform. I was taught to project a loving family for show, with no care given behind closed doors. My son is allowed to move at his own pace, without comparison. I was always too much—or not enough. I love that he is stubborn, curious, observant, and sensitive. I was conditioned to believe those traits were flaws. Breaking the cycle looks like becoming the parent you needed. It is re-parenting your inner child while learning how to be a parent at all. ☾⋆｡°✩🦇✩°｡⋆☽