.running with scissors

As mother’s day approaches I reflect on my vision of a mother. They come in all sizes, colors and at different prices.
Growing up as an orphaned child within my own family is a hard reality to accept. But it is what I have.

My bio mother was the one who’s roof I slept under and who’s money paid for my food, but not who’s heart was there for me.

I celebrate mother’s day as a motherless child in a grown woman’s body. And I’m okay with that.

I remember feeling alone and realizing that I was abandoned emotionally at a very young age. In fact, my earliest memories are from when I was 3 or 4 years old looking for a way to leave my family. Praying to god that someone would take me away…. Becoming reclusive and creating my own world internally to get through my days.

The bad memories outweigh the good by far and now as an adult and a mother of the three best things that ever happened to me, my heart aches even more as I try to understand how a mother could NOT love her own child.

I grew up knowing I was an obligation and nothing more. As an adult I repeatedly grieved the loss of my vision of a mother because throughout the stages of my life I continuously tried to see her through a different light, but my expectations were never met.

I blamed myself for expecting too much or expecting her to be something she could never be. But the more I blamed myself the more I realized that the idea of her lack of love being my fault was just another symptom of a codependent childhood.
When I learned to love myself as an adult, the pieces of the puzzle came together on their own. And once again I went through the grieving process of losing that mother I wish she could have been. But this last time was different, it was final, because it was in acceptance rather formed from self blame. The cycle is finally broken.

She could have been everything I needed, she could have been supportive, she could have been a teacher or guided me in any way. She could have at least told me not to run with scissors through the tangled roads of life… But she wasn’t, she didn’t and she couldn’t. She lived her life for herself and I was the result of a mistake. I was there as an outcome and a reason to blame all of her shortcomings on. I was there to clean, to babysit, to show off as a token, but that was the extent of our relationship.

What I’ve learned from the demise of this unhealthy relationship, was that it was just that, an unhealthy relationship. And like any relationship, whether blood or not, if unhealthy, should be put to rest. When the ties were cut and I was no longer an excuse or a reason for failure I learned to love myself.
And for the first time in my life I was free. I am free and I celebrate mother’s day as a motherless child, but as a mother who adores her children, who loves all children and who is, in the end, a survivor of neglect and self hatred that rooted from a lack of love and acceptance throughout my life.

So, Happy mother’s day to the mother I never had. It was you that helped me become the mother and woman I am today by being everything you weren’t. And for that, I am grateful.


6 thoughts on “.running with scissors

  1. Happy mother’s day to a beautiful soul!
    Family is not always blood. Family is a person or group of people that love you and that you love. Unconditionally. You pick your family as an adult. There are so many of your kind so don’t feel alone. Be proud in who you are!


  2. Happy mother’s day Mrs Fox!
    Shine on like you always do. A bright and bold inspiration for so many out there. Including me!


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