Mother Wound - Blog Posts
Here’s a wild domino affect from my life.
Maybe if my mother and I
were much more different,
it would be easier to fault her
for everything that happened.
To explain all the pain
I am carrying.
Maybe if my mother weren't
sometimes soft
pinning the fault would
go smoother.
if she didn't have the
same outline I have
if we didn't laugh the same,
share the same freckle,
chin, and ears,
and have the same interests.
Why did the universe make us
so much alike.
To whom of the counterparts
does this curse belong to.
Do I then blame
her or myself
as her and I look at our
mirror images
mournfully gazing at each other.
My mother once told me that she would have dreams that she was attacking and yelling at her own mother.
I did not speak up about the fact that I had these same dreams about her.
My mother had a regular, plain childhood. Nothing she ever complained about, anyway. And she complains often. No abuse or neglect or any significant pain.
So where did her cruelty come from?
I’ve been conditioned to expect villainous people- or even just regular mean people- to have pain themselves. Something unhealed and ugly they must let out in any twisted way.
But she didn’t. There’s no reason for her to be like this. Or to do the things she did.
And yet she is cruel.
And though there is something unhealed and ugly she gave me, I don’t want to let it out on anyone. I feel an instinct to soothe and mother people in pain. I can’t make sense of it. It’s backwards.
And yet I love her. I will deal with the consequences of loving her for the rest of my life.