It's Mother's Day! I've gotten better at handling this day (read this as not laying in the fetal position sobbing all day). But, there are always a few tears shed. Last night, I looked at Jasen and asked why my mommies didn't love me enough.
And that's really what it boils down to... Each of my mothers would likely say they loved me... But in all honesty, they didn't love me enough.
While my bio mom would likely say that she wanted to give me a better life, the truth is, she didn't love me enough to get her shit together and be a mom. I get it. Self-esteem and self-worth issues, health problems, likely some PTSD herself... I get it. I really do get it, but getting it does absolve her from the tears I cry every Mother's Day, because my mom didn't choose me.
My adoptive mom did her best too. Her life didn't exactly go as she had planned either. She fed me, clothed me, paid a shit ton for my screwed up mouth and sat up with me night after night as I passed gallstones. She did all the 'things' a mother was supposed to do. She was the opposite of my bio mom. She was strong and independent, with a 'I will be right attitude' and a stubborn streak. I needed those traits modeled for me, but I also needed love, compassion and forgiveness. Traits she probably had, but showed very little of to the outside world. Had I not divorced my ex, it's likely that my adoptive mom and I would have continued a cycle of 'me doing everything I could to please, but it never being enough'! But I did get a divorce and what is, simply is. The truth is, at the end of the day, she didn't love me enough to move past my choices.
Every week, I sit in counseling and we process my life and try to get me back to a highly functioning individual again (PTSD can suck it). But, what I've realized during my weekly sessions, is that I did 'learn' things from each of my mothers and not all of it was bad. I am strong. I am independent. I am emotionally accessible to my kids and husband (ok, ok, this is a work in progress)!
But most importantly, I've stopped the cycle that was started generations ago. My daughters don't sit in dressing rooms crying, because I called them thunder thighs or some equally body shaming term. They don't tremble in fear, that there will be some outburst of yelling, when they have to tell me negative news. They come to me when they are scared and hurting, instead of hiding. We laugh and we love and we have an honest relationship, because I've stopped the cycle.
They will be different mothers than I am, but I hope that when (and if) they have children of their own, they will continue to break the cycle. I hope that they see this meme and think positive thoughts about me and that they never doubt my love. And I hope they never have to question if I love them enough...
