Mother smother

Lately, when I look in the mirror I see my mother’s face.  I see her mouth, her eyes, the pores of her skin.

I don’t hate my mother, nor do I resent her.  But I see my relationship with her more clearly now.

As a child I felt flawed, like a mistake inside me made me unlovable.  She was distant and cold.

As an adult (and I’ve been one for a while now) I realise that my relationship with her is the same.
And I’m still taking the blame for it.  I’m older now, I have the life skills to really create a proper close relationship with her.  And it’s just not happening.  I’m waiting for her approval, her interest.
She’s a new age hippy type.  She loves crystals and talking to angels.  But her heart is closed.  And I am confused.

For as long as I can remember I’ve been waiting for her to save me from drowning, but her back is always turned.  She’s looking the other way.

And so, I’m letting her go.  Which is strange, as I see her everyday as I put on my makeup, as I do my hair.
I don’t feel bad, or sad.   I feel free.  And maybe she does too.  Maybe the burden of my expectation has been weighing her down.  Maybe she just wants to fly away.

Fly away mumma.  It’s ok.

 

 

 

 

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Fly fly little wing.

How do you balance being the person you are, right now – with the person you were raised to be?

You see, I am who I am.  A grown woman with three kids on her second marriage.  The choices I’ve made have lead me here.  Every choice I make counts.

I get that.  I get it right down to my bones.

I hold myself responsible for everything.

And yet in kindness, I can see a small lonely frightened child hidden away inside.

And that child has also directed who I am and where my life has gone.

Can I escape being the kind of wanker who blames everything on their unhappy childhood?

Can I continue with this introspection and still retain a shred of dignity?

When will enough be enough?  When will I know when I’m done?

Right now I trying to hold myself in this place of no judgement.

Right now grown up me (the mother) holds the scared child close and tight.

I love her unconditionally.

But one day, I hope to be able to let her go so she can journey on her own.