I’ve been the mom who yelled. Lost her temper.
I have been the mom who locked herself in the washroom crying, begging and praying for a fucking break.
I have been the mom who cast judgment, fears and past experiences on her children consciously and unconsciously.
The mom, who has cried herself to sleep due to the pain from a life she feels the inability to control, but desperately grasping for some sanity. Some light in an endless black hole.
I’ve been a mom who has gone through such high anxiety that crying on the front porch rather than going to work and entering her own home, was the most consciously safe decision. The only option.
I have been the mom who demanded respect and love without knowing how that truly felt to give to myself.
I’ve been the mom who curled herself up in a black hole, not seeing the crack of light anywhere.
The mom who partied and desired freedom from being anything, especially a mom.
The mom who hadn’t washed herself in days. Hadn’t worn a clean bra all week. The one who couldn’t remember the last time she wore anything other than track pants.
The mom who felt that there was no one to help hold her up. Believed no one could nor wanted to, if given the option.
Believed no one could comprehend the pain that lived within the home.
I have been the mom who struggled with nightmares from a marriage and of self loss. Vivid, earth shattering nightmares where the loss of her child left her clinging to her child in waking times.
I’m the mom who experienced living with vulnerable narcissists, alcoholics, and drug addicts.
Who knows firsthand what Stockholm Syndrome feels like and what it is like to live it.
The mom who couldn’t find the energy during the day to utter more than a word or phrase to her child.
The one who was told there would be no hope for her child's future other than a possible part time job.
I am the mom who one day woke up, grabbed a hammer and fucking smashed the black hole, in order to find the cracks of light.
The mom who sought out her own healing path/journey when Western medicine dismissed her until she was screaming bloody murder from the rooftops.
I am a mom who began to understand the gifts bestowed upon her by having her children in her life.
The mom who had to hug her children, and say “I love you” feeling like it may be her last time. Yet knowing there was hope, that it wouldn’t be.
I’m the mom who has spent over her means. At times lived more than paycheque to paycheque.
A mom who has played the victim, recognized it and consciously heals this shadow aspect everyday .
A mom who learned everyday what being connected and loving oneself truly means.
A mom who recognized that the desperation, anxiety, depression, and fears were beginning to fade with every intentional breath. For when you release the need to control all aspects of every second and every little detail of your life, you allow the separation, the healing to begin.
I’m the mom who gave herself a second chance at life. A second chance through Shadow. A second chance to live a life of authenticity.
A chance to look through and experience life with love, admiration, joy, passion, sensuality, gratitude, blessings, and acceptance.
For the shadow is where our gifts await. The shadow is beauty.
What mom have you been? What mom are you now, for you decide.
Song I listened to while writing "Things are Changing." by Gone Gone Beyond, The Human Experience and "Going up that Hill,"Kate Bush