I miss my mom. We haven’t spoken in five years and I’ve missed her for every single one of them. The sudden disconnect was something I had feared since I was a kid; however, I really don’t think that it was ever a matter of if, but when.
I got it from my Momma.
I am my mother’s daughter. All of my absurdnesses hold reflective tones of her. I was oblivious to my disempowered ways while being an emotional service child and later simultaneously suffering mindlessly within a 17-year marriage to my high school sweetheart, father to my three oldest children and raging narcissist.
I have zero memories of loving, affectionate parents. I have LOTS of memories of screaming, throwing and destroying the house followed up with the eerie silence and the dense energy of discord. If I could summarize the energy of my childhood in one sentence it would be, “something was always wrong.”
I took the first happy ride out of town with my high school sweetheart. We got married and moved off to California within six months of graduating. Being with him felt good and after 19 years of “something is always wrong,” I didn’t look back.
Mom required people in her life to be sympathetic to her case. It was Dad who did her wrong. She didn’t get what she was supposed to in the divorce and was not able to fight it out to any prevail. She was never able to fully recover and it was always his fault, right? I financially covered moves, rent, groceries, utilities for her for years because if I didn’t, she’d be homeless. If I didn’t DO something it would be my fault. That was my story anyway and it supported hers as well. This cycle repeated for far longer than I care to admit.
Our final round lasted almost a year and a half after I was widowed. She came to stay with the kids and me here in Florida. I think its safe to say in that weird spiraling season that followed his death, we equally enabled each other. When the fog began to lift and I was able to see with the help of my therapist that I was codependent with both her and my husband, there was an urgency to break the cycle and begin to heal my codependency. The work I’ve been able to do on myself with the distance from her has been remarkable.
I had to choose me, for me and for my children.
I needed a mom who could enforce boundaries, not just set off an alarm system. I needed a mom who was able to heal and move forward after life handed her a hard lick, not a mom who was constantly pulling the past into the present. I needed a mom who could transform all of that into something powerful and beautiful and not set up a shrine for what never was. After my husband’s death, I was no longer willing to sit with her influence and attempted advice for my life. Everything within me was rejecting it. As I looked into my future it looked a lot like her. One of the last things I remember saying to my mom before I kicked her out of my home was also one of the most powerful statements to ever leave my mouth. I told her, “I am not willing to repeat one more day of our history.” I absolutely meant it.
Moving forward because of it all.
It was Mom who trained me to be disempowered BUT through the mess that brought, I was willing to teach myself how to be empowered with lots of support and a willingness to sit with the version of me that endured all of that. I miss my mom, only not the mom I had … I miss the mom I didn’t have. I miss the mom I needed. I wish I knew what reconciliation looked like for us one day but I’m still healing from so much.
This is why being in the work of transformation is the highest priority for me. I am not willing to let one more generation of my family slide through with suffering like the ones before me. Looking at who I was and why I was … how I was someone who could be and STAY in an abusive marriage. How I could support my mom and deny myself … I needed to know how to heal that version of myself so that I could become this version. I love who I am today. I could not be this strong and certain if I were not first weak and confused. I could not create the joy that is within my home now if I had not known deep sadness. I am grateful for my lessons and proud of the life I am rebuilding so mindfully. When I heal, it helps create more wholeness in my children and hopefully generations to come.
But also, I miss my mom.