Mother's Day. Probably the day I dread the most out of the 365 each year. All holidays remind me of very seperated I am from my family, but this day reminds me most of how much my Mother has hurt me.
It is challenging to be in this place - a season of pain and joy. This grey area between hating my Mother for choosing my abuser and loving her so much it takes all I have to not call her. This piece of human nature that says Mothers love their children more than anything else on earth ~ its a lie that screams in my face every day (especially on Mother's Day).
My Mother once made promises to her brand new baby. She was with me as I struggled to survive in the NICU at Stanford and she was with me when I broke my wrist in Kindergarten. She was there when I started cheerleading and she was there on my 10th birthday. Then something changed and she was no longer present with me. She lived in the house I was abused in. She married the man that destroyed my soul. She pushed me aside when I started cutting. She begged me to lie to her about her husband. She told me I ruined her life and hung up the phone. She abandoned me when I needed her most.
I miss my Mother of my young childhood. I miss knowing that she loved me. I miss thinking that she'd believe me. I miss the Mom I had before. If only she would love me more than the person who tore me apart.
Even in the pain, I am thankful for the "moms and sisters" I have gained through Christ. For they keep teaching me what it means to love and be loved. Though I know I sometimes push them away, God has given me such wonderful women to learn from and trust in. Its not the same of course, for my Mother has wounded my ability to be a daughter, but I'll take it and hope one day I able to break the curse that was bestowed upon me.
This day is hard for my soul to bear.
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