I wish my mom was there for me the way she should have, growing up.
Don’t get me wrong; I appreciate the mother that she is/was. Because we can only ever give what we can, what we’re capable of and have access to.
But, this blog isn’t about that though.
Excuse me in advance, but I have no intentions on buttering up the situation I’m gearing up to write about.
Prepare yourself for the ride…. I’m sharing me.
No one warned me about the hurt and uncertainty that I would eventually have to face from the after effect of never being raised in a nurturing home.
No one warned me about the uncertainty.
I announce the word uncertainty twice because this feeling is the strangest thing ever. It’s something I’m confused about and don’t understand how to get through just yet.
I have three beautiful kids that I nurture on a daily basis, yet here I am questioning my parenting.
Unfortunately, this is the parenting that I wish I would’ve had growing up. Maybe I wouldn’t be righting so many wrongs today. Maybe I would be whole. Maybe that wholeness would’ve prevented me from so much turmoil, uncertainty, and time wasted. I mean, I could be doing so much for myself and my kids instead of exerting myself to healing.
This isn’t a bash towards my mother. She’s pretty great. But, I’m just mad.
Mad at what was, what should’ve been, and the fact that I have to pick up all of these pieces that shouldn’t even be here to start with.
I just realized something…. I’m using terms that my therapist told me refrain from using; should’ve and would’ve.
I know reliving certain things in our past doesn’t help us much. However, in my case, I’m simply picking up the pieces and working hard to create something that is meant to be.
Can you relate?
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