I wasn’t going to write at all on this subject, but someone came to the blog on Friday from a search engine search, quotes about what mother taught me. I was very disconcerted to see that someone came to my blog from that search and went to my post Truths My Mother Taught Me.
I’m sincerely sorry to the person who came to this post. No, you didn’t find some ultimate pretty truth about a loving mother. No, this is not a place to think good thoughts about mothers and all the good that they do in the world or in one child’s life. Really I am sorry. But I really had nothing to do with the kind of mother I had. My female parent did. I hope you find what you were looking for, elsewhere. I hope you have the kind of mother who deserves to be honored this weekend.
No, my parent wasn’t a mother. I usually don’t call her one either. Usually I refer to her in as accurate a way as I can, she was the female parent. I don’t usually use the word mother, sometimes I will say my mother to say something about her mothering, not that she was a mother, but that she was a lousy mother. She was never really a mother to me.
Many years I refused to have anything to do with her on Mother’s Day. Once I told her why. I said, you were not a good mother to me. I thought that she should get in return what good she had given to me, nothing.
This time of year, since her death, has been hard and triggering, well it’s always been hard and triggering. Last year I don’t recall how it affected me. I was too busy dealing with the chaos and dysfunction run rampant in the whack job house I was living in, with the nut jobs that lived there.
I’ve been thinking about Mother’s Day this past week. My thoughts are usually very dark. This year it seems as though something has shifted. I’ve been feeling and thinking more positively.
I can, even at this time of year, feel happy that there are good mothers out there, that they mother or have mothered a large portion of our population. For that I am truly thankful. I will try to celebrate the holiday in my heart and feel that today.
So many survivor friends have told me I would make a great mother. I would say no way. I’ve been saying no way since I was four years old. Saying no to it was a way of saying no to my mother. It was a way to humiliate her and take control of my own life. It was a way to say what an awful mother she was, so much so that her own little girl would refuse to replicate her life. It was the biggest insult I could give her.
I’m finally at a place in my life where I don’t immediately dismiss the concept of my being a mother, having mothering skills, or ever being a mother. I was talking about that recently with my best friend. She said that I would make a great mother. It was the first time in my life where I could truly let it in, where I didn’t immediately say no. Not that I am going to become a mother.
I have been mothering to many survivor friends. I know I was doing that, but liked to live in denial of that. It was just to easy too call it something else. I can admit that now. I love my survivor friends and feel so protective and tender to them and about them. Giving to other survivors fulfills my deepest need and purpose in life. But we don’t really need to call it mothering.
The Littles have been telling me how much they value the mothering that I have given them. They have been awed by all that I have given to them, my acceptance and love of them, how protective I am of them, and all that I have done for them over the years.
So many inside the system mother and care for one another. It is the hallmark of our system, we are so engaged in caring for one another. Mothering, in this case, really is self-care to the system. So even though I ran from being a mother, I/we have been one for many years, I am one now.
Today I celebrate us all.