I am my mother’s daughter, they say.
Do they know what an insult they throw my way?
Looking in the mirror to see her, brings a disgust.
From so many years of lies and mistrust.
Never caring to know me or what I think.
Caused me to digress and shrink…
into a pit of self loathing and shame.
I cringe and seethe at the mention of her name.
She made me feel like I wasn’t enough.
Looked at me in my lowest and said…”tough”
“What about me” is all that came from her lips.
In her shadow I lived in the eclipse.
It amazes me, no apology still to this day.
For all the times she just simply walked away.
Why don’t I matter? Why doesn’t she see?
That all I wanted was for her to be my mommy.
Forty-four years later my daily prayer I plead.
“Lord, show me how to be a mom, how to succeed.”
No example and a broken heart
Make it hard to know where to even start.
His answer is daily always the same;
“Child forgive her and I’ll take care of what remains.”
One day I hope to say I’ve forgiven my mother,
But truth be known, she’s hurt me like none other.
I was shown I need to write from the depths of pain and anger created by those who were to love me. I pray it helps me to heal. I’m posting these in this series in the hopes of helping others alongside of helping myself. Pardon me if they are a bit darker or angry than what I usually write. The desperation for final change takes precedence here.