I sometimes wish it would stop – the constant demand on my time and energy.
I sometimes feel like I have been both mothering my son and myself in this last year.
The intense disappointment I feel in my mother for not having ever been a soft place to fall or a sanctuary of safety for me is sometimes crippling. As I write that, I cringe. Have I become one of those blathering people steeped in their misery, ignoring their reality and the blessings in their lives? Am I to be forever mourning my childhood? I have never had much patience for people who dig through their childhood too much and get themselves all worked up and indignant over past hurts. Life is happening now and it does not serve to be too tangled up in the past. At least this is how I was raised. To avoid the psychologist like the plague and never to dwell on unpleasant things. Hell, I was even told to never disclose my feelings to the homeopath as they don’t know what they are doing when it comes to emotions. And when I burst out spewing all my anger as a 14 year old, no one knew where that could come from.
And yet, I do feel that this current journey is in some way warranted.
When my son cries, it pushes major buttons for me. I feel like I am missing something, and I get very very stressed out. And I do not think that is healthy for either me or him. I guess I am hoping that by exploring my childhood not only as an exercise in memory, but also re-experiencing the emotions, I will be able to let it go a bit and be more present as a person and a mother.
I remember some time ago being asked what I wanted from my mother by a friend and I was stumped. I had no idea. I had been trying to figure out who my mother was as a woman, in an attempt to understand why we have such conflict, and it wasn’t working. I think now I can say that I want my mother to hear me – all of me. Not just the parts she like or knows how to relate to – all of me. I want my mother to be able to relate to me in a supportive way, even if she does not share the same passion or ideology. I want my mother to hold me gently, to soothe me. I want my mother to ask me what is bothering me and take the time to listen. Especially the last one.
Unfortunately that which I want is not very likely to happen.
So, it seems I am not yet out of this wood of self examination. I have tried repeatedly to write my blog on other topics, commenting on books I am reading, ideas that are springing, experiences that are flowing….. for now this space is reserved for my personal work.