Courage to Change

I get that my mother did the best she could…and STILL–what happened to me is not right or acceptable. I know we differ in many ways, she and I, one of the more pronounced ways, is that if and when I am struggling to understand and be present for either of my children, I count on friends, whom I call family, to stand in that gap, not to align with me against my sons. My mother’s need to be right outweighed her need for connection with and protection of me. She invited others to align with her, to shame or frighten me into something other…and I sure did become something other than what I was born to be in this world. Ashamed. Angry. Disconnected. Broken AF.
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single minute, I easily get spun up in the axle –the entire history of it all, IT: being the “dynamic” of my (FOO)family of origin. I was, for a stretch, enjoying the perks of total estrangement from my FOO and all affiliated, with the exception of my ex and our children, when my mother’s sister emailed Wednesday with an invite for breakfast this weekend. Both anxiety and grief were my immediate gut reactions. It is too a complex a relationship for each of us, full disclosure and authenticity are not well tolerated and our connection is not blessed by the others, which creates hardship for her. I believe she and I are similar in unmentionable ways (sensitive and vocal about being sensitive which troublesome to those who are not(the rest of them)) and it is just too elephant in the roomish and eggshelly for me. I am no good at that and forcing it feels more difficult than wise.