Surviving My Mother

The Abstract Mirror Blog

Surviving My Mother

Probably 5 years ago now, I had the thought; I should write a book about my family.  Our family would always joke, if any of us wrote a book, it would be a bestseller.  But the more I thought about it, the source of it all for me would be my Mother and my childhood.  The book I would write would be called Surviving my Mother.  And it would be a bestseller too.  Each of us has a story to tell.  Especially daughters.  Many of us have endured such deep-rooted pain that made us learn to feel like we weren’t individuals.  As if our self was only connected to our Mother’s own sense of self-worth.  This happens to be a pattern that does not bear repeating but unhealed wounds carry memory.

Without knowing what I needed or how to begin I sort of stumbled on a meditation series through the Daily Om, called How to Heal the Mother Wound.  For years counselors have told me to confront this wound at which point I would stop seeing them.  I didn’t want to confront those who have done wrong to me, my reasoning was making my Mom feel bad about past decisions (which in my mind I am sure she is well aware of and is not proud of) only hurt her and put her into a downward spiral of depression or anger to lift me up was not a good plan.  That would not help me.  My conditioning is ingrained in her well-being.  If she goes down into a spiral of depression, it is my job to also release her from it.  This puts more pressure on me.  A situation that I always hoped I would not have to return to again and again and would do my best to tiptoe quietly around trying not to be needed.  I felt like a lifeline, a floatation device.  However, in my case, the floatation device has a small leak, and the panicking person on the other end seems to care less if I drown in the midst of saving them.

When I initially started to meditate on this trauma, several feelings came up.  Mostly fear.  Fear of what I would find.  Fear of what this meant for my Mom and I.  Fear of having to deal with it.  Fear of having to set boundaries.  That scares the life out of me.  I still do not feel ready to set any boundaries with her.  And boundaries must be set.  Setting boundaries is how I gain back control of my energy and peace.  Believe me, I would much rather just let the trauma swirl around in my mind awhile, hide it in the depths of my being, and protect that part from any further damage and destruction but it’s not serving me well anymore.  It shows up in other parts of my life.  And I can’t allow it to destroy what I am trying to build.  I also felt sadness, deep sadness because no one has cried for this little girl and tried to protect her or stand up for her.  I felt anger because she deserves to be seen.  And no one even noticed her.  They don’t know she considered taking her life at 10 years old.  She deserves to be heard.  At the end of my meditation I felt an incredible light wash over me, a hope, strength, and wow, is that forgiveness?!?.

At the end of my meditation, I realized that healing my inner child and living my life based on what was best for me instead of the comfort of others did not have to be a bad experience.  Healing the Mother wound doesn’t mean me assigning blame and making another responsible for my happiness.  Because even though this little girl has experienced this trauma, she has gained from it greatly.  And I am grateful for each and every single thing I have been given in whatever form it came in.  I am so proud of the little girl inside me.  She is wonderful.  She is brave and strong.  She has learned to absorb energy and turn it to light.  She may have had to develop a hard shell to protect her light from being extinguished but she carries it with her waiting to let it shine through and be her truest version of herself.  She is alive within me and she is full of love and forgiveness.  And now it’s time for her to come out of protection.  She is safe now.  She has permission to feel everything she needs to.  Wholly.  Experience it and embrace it and grow from it.  I am going to give her permission to let go and feel.  I will protect her and I will fight for her.  I will heal her and myself.  Like I said, unhealed wounds carry memory.  Each Mother that came before me was a wounded daughter.  A daughter who also battled their way through rejection, abandonment, and unworthiness themselves.  Women who still found joy and laughter, and learned to survive in their own way.  Our stories deserve recognition, overstanding, healing, and forgiveness.  Unhealed wounds carry memory, and I have a daughter.  She has a light and a joy about her that is to be recognized, delighted in, and expressed freely.  It is time to stop the cycle.

“Unhealed wounds carry memory.”

 

Written by:  Coco B.

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