Resentment is the number one offender. It's like drinking poison and wishing the other person dies. This, I know.
I know first hand the feeling of resentment and how to get away from it. Forgiving and moving on and letting go and inviting a power greater than me to take control.
But today it is seething and boiling inside me. Unable to be quieted.
Today is a celebratory day for mothers. It's the hardest job in the world, and mine failed miserably.
She was given a chance to do better and make something of nothing and she didn't choose me. She didn't choose being a mother, she chose being a partner to a very sick man.
And today that stings. Today that hurts and it makes me angry. It is hard to imagine my life with a mother in it, since for so long I've made do without one. But on a day where the rest of the west is celebrating their triumphant motherly love, I am reminded of the failed relationship I tried hard to mend.
The woman who I tried to accept but couldn't. Because I'm not strong enough, or because I no longer have space in my life for people who do not see me for exactly as I am. Wounds and healing and commitment to growth.
I cannot pretend. Today or any day. That not having a mother's love has been an easy thing. That having a conditional relationship with a mother, based on keeping the peace, keeping quiet, and pretending to be fine, was not the most difficult task I took on in this life. But it's over now, and for five years I have lived my truth without her.
It's hard and it's sad and it's infuriating and it's the deepest form of pain and surrender I'll ever know.
But it was essential, for me to continue to grow. For me to keep on the path of greater self knowledge, for greater peace and, ultimately, greater love.
Love of my self.
