my mom was in bed most of my life. not sure why, but i think it was because she is bipolar and was never diagnosed or treated. she didn’t hold me, brush my hair, make me dinner, or attend my events, etc. growing up.
my father’s parents both died without ever once telling him they loved him.
my dad told me when he had his first child, my sister amy, he vowed that a night wouldn’t go by without saying, “i love you” to her and each of his kids thereafter. even though at first he felt silly and didn’t quite know what to do, he did it anyway. it became his new normal. he made the choice to break the cycle he knew and to connect instead.
having intimate connecting relationships has been a struggle for me most of my life- with girlfriends and boyfriends. i have always had lots of “friends” and boyfriends, but rarely let anyone in to the core of me. if the relationship got too real, too close, too near the vulnerable place i had hidden, i would run like the wind or find a reason to end it. i liked people brushing the surface of my earthsuit, but not getting close to what i had buried in there. looking back i think that stemmed from growing up feeling alone and like i didn’t matter. that is how i interpreted my mothers disconnect.
today i am married with 5 kids.
when i met dave, i went into therapy because i knew this was my man and i didn’t want to lose him, but i didn’t know what the heck to do with him. i couldn’t keep starting fights and pushing him away, then expect him to stay. at therapist’s office, i worked my ass off. i had never been to one before. i started figuring out what caused my pain. i started dealing with it and healing with it. because of the work done in that office, i am still married. i wouldn’t be able to otherwise, i didn’t know how to do it.
i am still working on me. when my daughter says, “come lay with me.” and i say, “in a minute,” and then go too late and she is asleep, i honestly feel a tiny bit relieved because i can get my mommy night side work done faster and get to sleep myself.
tonight she said, “come lay with me” and i said, “one minute” and she stomped her foot, yelled something and slammed her door. i thought, ‘i will not reward that behavior and lay with her now, i’ll facebook instead.’ i opened my computer and started writing a post then i thought, that is probably what i would have done if my mom were listening and i were unable to say, “mom, i really need you right now. i don’t know how to say it, so i am going to stop off and slam my door and hopefully you’ll figure out i’m hurting.”
i closed my computer and went into her room. she was lying on the very end of her bed. when i laid down by her she didn’t budge. i angled myself just so, so i wouldn’t fall off the bed, and put my arms around her. i felt a tear drip off her chin onto my arm. i didn’t say anything except, “it’s okay. i am here. i love you.” as she fell asleep i thought, how great it would have been to hear that from my mom, if even if for one night.
it is amazing to be present, to push past our comfort zone, to reach out when we don’t exactly know how. it is in that vulnerable space that we become who we are created to be.
be the change you wanted to see in your childhood. use the pain to propel you into awakening. use the hurt as a blessing by learn the lessons that you were shown to you, not by repeating them.
today i am grateful for everything about my mother. i have an awareness of what is important in life because of her. i have learned how if you do nothing, you get nothing. and that you must work hard for the things that matter and give of yourself to others, heart and all, then you can’t help but be truly blessed.
lift the veil of fear that is holding you back from your greatness. it’s time!
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