The Love of Keeping Home

Thursday, August 22, 2013

My Mother's Cell

                                                                   For Ashley and Dustin

     From a very young age, I always knew my mother resented my existence. Maybe it was because I cut her youth short, maybe I reminded her of the dark hours inflicted upon by him. Was it my green eyes and curvature of my nose?Or perhaps the responsibility for another life was too daunting for her. Especially when her own wounds were left raw, open and abandoned.

     Over the course of my childhood I had weekly reminders of her spite for me. As an adult myself, I treasured my freedom from her wicked wicked tongue and hateful piercing eyes. Having fled her wrath early on, I accepted the cold, hard feelings in which radiated from her and found my sanctuary. This I referred to as my refuge.

     Seasons came and went changing the agreements within my self once set by her bitter hate. Building trust guarded by walls, slowly I would allow her back onto my ever present wavering heart. Only to set stage for a pattern of forgiveness which lead down a path of sorrow. This resulted into emptiness that I filled with a new set of agreements such as unworthiness, ugliness and inability. I believed if I ran around her high throne, I could keep our peace. If I pranced around her feelings leaving mine beneath the dirt and keeping her happiness and wants at the for front, all would be well. If I told her what she wanted to hear set in the right tone, a day would pass with hope she loved me. If I hid my own values and beliefs, tucking them somewhere she was unable to find, and took on hers...a day would pass with hope she accepted me. Falling silent within myself meant her voice was always heard. 

     This is her playground. When the weak and timid trip into uncertainty, there she is. Standing above the broken down sucking in their soul. She out stretches her wiry arms lifting you out of your despair. Your trapped. Her musty breath whispers lies and deceit. Moments later, when she has you good and caught, she lashes out and tosses you to the very pit in which she seemingly rescued you from. 

     The winds of change are blowing yet again bringing forth a season of change. Having spent years overcoming her inability to love without condition based on her ideals and contempt, I am saying goodbye. Goodbye to the chapters reopened by the notion that I am responsible for her emotions. Saying goodbye to the grasp of guilt she has entangled me in. Goodbye to the betrayal. Saying goodbye to the pain. I have paid the price for her inequities and mistakes for far too long. She has never loved me as I once assumed a mother should. She has held our relationship by a pulling string in which she has had the ability to control.

     Adult women need their mothers. Mothers who desire to hold their daughter's hands and lift their heavy hearts from the turmoil in which this life can bring. Mothers who can stand strong against the currents when their beloved daughters are swept away. Mothers who encourage by their soft words rather than destroy by their condemnation and selfish wants.

     Moving beyond the years of betrayal is extremely difficult. Once the realization that she is not the image you had once created in your own mind has been replaced with truth and utter certainty, this process can begin. Your heart can heal and your mind can become freed from the clutter of her mess. I refer to this as my mother's cell.

     This relationship death has occurred before, only to have been reawakened by the belief that she is sincere.  With the knowledge that hope for healing is and always has been a mirage, I can rest assured my reality is based on her ever flowing river of deceit.

     Lift me from the waters onto land of dry peace. Heal my wounds and replace them with the warmth of those placed in my path. 

     I wrote this for those who struggle with mother daughter relationships. For those who weren't "blessed" with the ideal Mama Mia's! But for the brokenness that lies in the everyday of the lives left by tortured women who had children. Those very children who somehow survived their childhood and swore off the pain inflicted by the women who gave them life. This is for you. Because, I understand. Life can feel lonely and dark without the support nay presence of a mother, but life can be very rewarding and fulfilling with the support and presence of other adult daughters who have found refuge. 

                                                    ~Thanks for reading with me :)