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Monday, April 18, 2016

Oh MY GAWD! Reasons why relationships with our mothers are complicated

There older I get the more I think my relationship with my mother is a lot like God. I respect and am in awe of both. I fear disappointing them both. I want to do things that make them proud of my literal creation. Maybe it's a simplistic concept .

 I don't think I know a single person who has a simple relationship with their mom. The one person who cheers me on no matter how ridiculously bad I fail - is my mother. I know that there are times where things are completely wrong and broken in my life, and I feel the dual idea to call her and to avoid her. I long to call and vent and get advice. I also want to avoid because I'm feel like I don't want to fail her . I think the same dual thoughts exist about God for me. I want to run to and get help and also fear admitting my failures. I truly believe that both would never stop loving me. That statement in itself is rather hard to admit. I am not easily loved. I am complicated and moody. I over analyze some days while I work so very hard to create a balance of perfection only to push too hard in one area and fall on my face.

The first lump I found in my breast I was an emotional basket case. I told members of my inner sanctum  "tribe." I made appointments with the doctors. I went to the  dr appts, the mammograms, the ultrasounds, and the MRI alone because I didn't want to be the person who told my mom something was wrong. I have no desire to make my mother cry. I didn't know how to tell her. I didn't know what to pray for either. I am believer that everything happens for a reason. What if I prayed for healing and I wasn't sick? Then I'd feel like I wasted God's time . ( I'm an over analyzer after all. ) So I waited to tell my mother. The same person I adamantly believe is my best supporter. I didn't ask for healing from God; instead, I asked for it to be the right outcome.

She has seen my naked more times than I can even fathom; literally and metaphorically. She knows my birthmarks under my arm and lower back like they were art. She told me once if anything ever happened to me, she knew she could be the one to identify my body because she could do it by my scars...my ears, my hands, whichever. She didn't want to see my face and have to see me like that- so she decided that she could identify me by my scars.

The person who loves me best can see past my broken and hurt and see how they make up.....me. Loving someone should be like that. You see the scars of someone you care about  and see that they have created a stronger more identifiable person. Some of my favorite things about my own child, besides his heart and ornery side, are the 2 teeny tiny freckles where his neck swoops down to his collarbone. Things that other people might not notice... Maybe our mothers love us differently because we are the only people who know what their heartbeat sounds like from the inside. Maybe it's because no matter the circumstances involved with our conception- it's a fact that at one point ( OR MANYYYYY) our mothers were responsible for our literal every need. That no matter how badly I fail or fall - my mother would help me. Ironically, its the same reason why I avoid ever asking her for things.

I can talk to her for hours on end or go a month without talking and she will still be there. I make her crazy. She says things without saying them. She always notices when I change my hair. (Key word: NOTICES) She secretly hates most of the nail polish colors I wear, and yet instead of saying it-She smiles and says, " I see you painted your nails." And we both know.

Maybe that's the problem with our mothers. They understand us. They see us. Even when we fight with them- there is nothing we wouldn't do to try and protect them from seeing us fail, from feeling sadness, from thinking we aren't the best we can be. It's the same way I see God.
 Please don't see me fail.
 Please don't think I'm not worthy of the love.
Please love me.
Please be proud of me.

That's it. Our relationships are complicated because the unending love they give us almost feels like a burden. We WANT to be successful and happy in their eyes. We WANT them to be proud of us. We also want to protect them from seeing all the stupid things we have done- even though eventually they see everything in the end.

No matter how crazy she makes me,
No matter how crazy I assume I make her,
I wont ever give up on my momma.
And I truly think only God knows why.





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