Mourning my mother

I’m doing coaching with Julie and we’ve been discussing how it’s up to me to protect myself from my mother. As much as I’ve done, I still have a hole in my heart that she slips through. It’s time to spackle that shut and become teflon. I’d like to add titanium to that, because not only do I not want things to stick, I want to be a strong woman who doesn’t bend to the hurricane of her negativity.

Part of that is just letting her words be nothing more than words. That’s hard for me because she’s so awful. It’s no longer acceptable for me to even feel the cloak of disgust she makes me feel. That is too much to put on myself.

So how am I going to do this? Good question. I’m going to practice telling myself they are just words. That’s the first step.

I also think I need to handle her like she’s mentally challenged. No judgement, just accept that she is not capable of censoring herself. I feel terrible for comparing her to someone who is honestly mentally disabled, but it’s one of the only ways that I can hear her words and let them slide off. Just as I wouldn’t hold judgment on someone with brain issues, maybe I won’t hold judgment on mom? I can hope, but I’m not sure if even this will work.

The other thing I need to work on is grieving for the mother I didn’t have. This is also hard because it’s painful. Or I’m assuming it will be. Maybe not, since I’m in a good place in my life now.

What kind of mom did I want?

• One that was happy to have me
• One that found joy in who I was and who I could become
• One who would listen intently, then offer thoughts, comfort and support
• One who told me I was beautiful
• One that said I could be anything I dreamed of
• One who built my self esteem
• One who helped me build confidence by letting me try things, then being there for celebrating or soothing, whichever was needed
• One who would teach me that I was worthy of good things
• One who believed in me
• One that loved me just as I was and that would show me how to love myself just as I was
• One that encouraged creativity and self expression
• One who punished fairly, who set rules, but wasn’t a tyrant
• One who was considerate and understanding
• One who understood I was deserving of being my own person
• One that nurtured
• One that didn’t blame
• One who thought me being born enhanced her life

I could say what I did get, but what I wished I had says enough.

This picture and my memories of mecuricome pretty much speak for my childhood. Those who know what this medicinal cure all is don’t need an explanation. For everyone else, this was that magic elixir that went on scrapes and cuts. Your wound would be covered in this neon orange fluid and it would sting and burn. Often it felt much worse than the injury!

There was one thing the person applying it could do to help the pain. Just blow on it.

This was not an option in our house. Being chastised for reacting to the pain was the standard, usually with a reminder that you brought this all on yourself.

You lost mom.

You blew it.

You had the daughter any mother would have loved to have and you didn’t bother.

All those things you tried to suppress in me have happened! You tried your best and keep trying, but your power is a mere dim light next to mine!

• I am happy
• I am smart
• I am compassionate
• I am powerful
• I am worthy
• I am beloved
• I am a friend
• I am a source of support
• I am confident
• I am strong
• I am appreciated
• I love fiercely and I am loved back with intensity
• I am unstoppable
• I am authentic
• I am funny
• I am courageous
• I am just perfect. I was then, I am now, and I will always be perfect