It has been a long, hard winter.
January and February always bring the doldrums.
This year, it has felt more…stuck. More empty.
I have been beating myself over the “stuck-ness.” Asking, “Why? Why can’t I let this shit go? Why can’t I just move on? Do I like it? Has it all just become my identity?”
It’s something I’ve been asking myself for awhile.
Today, when I was driving home from work, mind moving a thousand miles a minute, I suddenly had a moment of pure clarity.
Once again, I realized…I am still, despite all my work against it, really struggling with the idea that I will never have the mother I want.
As I was driving, I started thinking about my friend, who is like a mother. My therapist, who I wish could be my friend.
My own mother.
I realized, day in and day out, I am still dancing through the denial that my mom will never love me the way a daughter deserves.
I can say it. I can erect boundaries. But I cannot stop feeling the loss.
Grieving, the loss.
I beat myself up, continually, because I look for the things she can’t give me in other people. I want my friend to love me. I want my therapist to be my friend, my confidant, unconditionally accepting me for who I am.
I want people to care about me.
I feel guilt for wanting these things. I feel shame for admitting this, and feel bad about wanting these things.
How in the hell do you fill this hole? How do I learn not to want a mom? Or, better yet…how do I get over the grief of not having a mom like other lucky women have?
I hate it. I hate it all.
It isn’t fair.
Everyone wants a mom. It’s ok to grieve that loss. Who wouldn’t?! My children still grieve the loss of their bio mom. Adoption didn’t (and can’t) fill that hole from their first mom. My point is that you have to accept that grief. No one person could ever really fill that empty space. I was once told that it’s harder to grieve someone who is still alive.
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