I’m not sure where that saying came from. But for me, I didn’t know that saying goodbye would hurt so bad. My mother’s passing devastated my life, because I had always depended on her for support, strength, and understanding of life’s complex events. Even though she had only received a high school diploma, she walked my sister and I all the way through doctorate degrees. She was the smarted woman I knew.
Enough of that, I want so bad to let her passing go, to wash over me as a previous psychologist suggested after my first husband died. My parents both had been exceptional aspects of my life as pillars and safety nets. I think the 2nd one is what hurts so much, knowing that I must stand on my own.
Independent is something I believe that many teenagers, young adults, and some time young children often master. For me and my sister, we were the center of my mother’s world. As she said before passing, we were all she had. When we ‘got grown and got her own lives, she didn’t know herself outside of us. She apologize repeatedly for never letting us grow, but keeping us in her tight circle to “in her mind” keep us safe. Rather, the opposite happened we (my sister and I) are only babes among wolves.
No one can blame her desire to protect, but it was taken to far. As an adult, I was still fearful of punishment of my parents for not doing what they asked or not doing things their way. I became subservient to their comfort when they would visit. I bowed my head and tried to meet their ever wish during the visit. I would cry to my husband in anger at the level of control they had over me. He has been walking me through the process of forcing them to let me go and go up, not needing my mother to help me make every decision, and standing on my own two feet when my family’s needs came for my parents.
Year of physical and psychological abuse drove my need to please. I could not see past that desire. I sought at men who would desire a subservient woman. After sometime, I would become angry with their control and broke off the relationship; regained my neediness (pretended); or sought violence as a way of punishing myself. I provoked otherwise nice men to push and hit me as I would do the same to them, repeating the cycle started by my parents. According to my upbringing, decision must be filter through my parents for wise counsel. When I moved way, seeking counsel among the cities lowest became my haven. I was too broken to share my life, my cracks, and mood swings with intelligent men who I believe would see right through me.
Mother’s day is a glorious time to let the mother’s in your live know how much they mean to you and your family. As I sit here with valium protected hurt, will my healing spirit out into the universe to comfort the downtrodden, broken hearted, sick, or those who could give a shit, please find peace in whatever experience you choose. Let know one but you direct your path, if you do, like my mother you will be 54 and have no idea who you are.