Daughter Guilt

I’ve always been the type of person to avoid confrontation. For me, it is more than just unpleasant–it is emotionally fueled, painful, and anxiety provoking.

It has always been easier…better…to just be the peacemaker. The nurturer.

I was cultivated into this role from an early age. The first person that I tried to avoid confrontation with is a person that I still try to avoid confrontation with: my mother.

Continue reading

The layers to my soul

I am a many layered entity.

There have been many times throughout this journey to healing where I have thought I have reached my center, only to be surprised to discover more layers of complexities underneath.

Diligently, I have peeled back layer after layer. Gruelingly, grudgingly, and guardedly, at times. Happily, laughingly, and interestedly, at others.

The fact, however, remains: finding the center is hard to do… Continue reading

Parenting through my past

No matter who you are, parenting can be a difficult gig.

As a woman, I know that I frequently worry about the way my parenting looks–am I being judged? Do I look selfish? Do I play with my kids enough? Did I talk on the phone too long? Will my husband be upset if I try to go on a run this morning? And on and on the thoughts go.

And these are thoughts on normal days. Motherhood, in my experience, requires a thick skin. It is easy to let other people’s opinions affect you–it is easy to be pulled into dumb cultural battles (think breast vs. bottle, co-sleeping vs. crib, working vs. staying at home)–there is so much pressure to do everything correctly, and so many different opinions on what the “correct ways” are.

Long ago, I made the decision to do what was best for my family. I also made the decision to tell anyone else to do what is best for them. And you know what? That is empowering.  Continue reading

Mother’s Day: The Double Edged Sword

Every year, there is this holiday that rolls around…I dread it.

My social media feeds are clogged with pictures of smiling mothers and daughters, complete with odes all about how self-sacrificing and completely wonderful all mothers are, and how no one can love you the way your mother loves you.

These posts, every year, fill me with confusion.

They make me jealous, and angry, and sad, and wistful. Continue reading