I am not a Mother

 I am not a Mother

I am a child wanting a Mother

Will you rock me?

Will you sing to me?

Will you play with me?

Will you tell me what makes you happy?

Will you tell me what makes you sad?

Will you share your dreams and fears with me?

Will you tell me stories about your childhood?

I am not a Mother

I am a child wanting to stand beside My Mother

I will ask her questions while she cooks

I am not a Mother

I am a teenager wanting to ask My Mother about why my body feels strange

I'm wanting her to tell me about when my breasts will get bigger

I'm wanting her to explain to me how to behave on a date with a boy

I'm wanting her to tell me about intimacy and passion 

I am not a Mother

I am a young adult wanting to ask my Mother about how to know if a man loves me

I'm wanting her to explain to me how to take care of myself and how to set boundaries with friends

I am not  Mother

I am a college student discovering my passions and dreams

I'm wanting to share my creative explorations with My Mother

She listens to me, and shares her passion for quilting with me

I am not  Mother

I am a college graduate and I'm scared about living life on my own.

I'm wanting My Mother to explain to me what to expect in the workforce

She tells me that "any job is a good job"

I am a first year teacher, and I'm feeling  lonely and scared and overwhelmed

I feel so terribly sad, I ask My Mother to come get me because I can't stop crying

I spend the weekend feeling desperate. I visit with my Uncle Stanley

And I tell him about my hostile work environment

He counsels me to put on a suit of armour and finish out the school year

He shares with me his experiences in challenging jobs

We share a beer and watch TV

He helps me make the decision to go back to the hostile work place and finish the year.

An emotional Bomb explodes at work, and a professional tells me to pack my things and leave.

I don't call My Mother, because I know what she will say, "any job is a good job"

So I stay in my apartment and cry, and cry and cry.

I don't go to work. I don't call work. I just stay in my room and cry.

I feel broken, and helpless and hopeless. 

There is no suit of armour thick enough for this job.

There is a knock on my door. It is him.

The ex-boyfriend who told me I was broken, just like him.

The ex-boyfriend who told me that no one else would love me, except him, because I was broken.

I believed him. 

Our history was rocky. He called me names, and threatened to commit suicide when I broke up with him.

He followed me around, and constantly accused me of looking at other guys.

I told him I felt smothered, and broke up with him.

He showed up at my dorm room, holding his mattress, he said his roomate had kicked him out and he needed a place to stay.

I felt sorry for him, so I let him stay.

I was lonely, so I let him stay.

I was scared, so I let him stay.

I thought I could help him, so I let him stay.

He drank too much. But I thought I could help him.

He smoked too much. But I thought I could help him.

He was so smart. Smarter than anyone I'd every know, except my father.

I was broken, he was broken. So we fit.

In a very toxic way, we fit.

I am not a Mother.

I am a young adult needing direction. The only one standing in front of me was the ex-boyfriend who said, " I love you, and I will help you."

The next day, I went back to work. But nothing had changed. It was hostile and cruel.

When I got home, I was met at the door of my apartment by a very angry man. He called me horrible names, and I sat and listened to him.

I was down, and he emotionally kicked me.

I cried, and believed every word he said.

If there was any part of me that wasn't broken, then at that moment, the last remaining part of me broke.

I gave up on life. I was sick and latched onto another sick human. We were sick together.

It was a perfect match of poison.

It never got better. It only got worse.

I am Not a Mother, I am a young adult, on the verge of marrying someone I didn't love, but this was an alternative to being alone and scared.

I wanted to talk to my Mother about love and relationships. 

She couldn't because she had never been taught how to do that.

In spite of all of this, I still love My Mother.

Giving birth child doesn't make you a mother, but losing your Mother helps you understand what a Mother is.

When your children are grown, then you understand what a Mother is.

I tried to give my children what I needed from My Mother.

But when the marriage is based on toxicity and fear and anger, then striving to be a Mother changes.

I choose toxic, I thrived on chaos and crises. I was very sick. 

Getting well started when I went to my first Al-Anon meeting and asked someone to help me get well.

"Can God fix me?" 

She said, "God can restore you to sanity, but you must let go."

When you let go of a toxic marriage, and see that you were wanting something that could never be, and you are not focused on others, you cannot be a good Mother.

We you learn that you must focus on taking care of yourself, then you can begin to be a Mother.

When darts are fired, and you hold up a shield, you can only protect the children from some of the darts.

The scars remain, but someday, we can heal.