For months, I have befriended silence. From writing. Exterior noises have been consuming. The replaying of past conversations…followed by… “ if only I had..” Insinuated judgements of my choice to share my stories. Chronic guilt or regret I ruminate over of unintended mistakes I have made that have hurt loved ones. Intentions don’t matter when you have hurt people. The hurt matters. It’s not easy to forgive ourselves for mistakes. Imagine the difficulty for those you’ve hurt to forgive you. I spiral easily allowing these noises to have power over my heart and soul. A heavy cover forms, that feels like quick sand absorbing my true depth of devotion, love, compassion and tenderness I have for others. When I hit these slippery, temporary declines, it honestly makes me angry with myself and then I am quick to remind myself that my mistakes do not define me! Replaying the past and giving time and space to regrets will not revise what has come to pass or change my now. In my many months of therapy I have learned so much about myself on so many levels. I truly feel like I am becoming a person I’m learning to love and be proud of. I will love others better knowing my conscience and that person I want to be is in there. She has just been afraid. My silent rest has been glorious for my soul, my health, my heart, and the growth of retraining that little almond-shaped emotional processor of my brain that has always been on the defensive, to protect, to shield and to control my outcomes. That little almond is looking more like a heart. Now… My MOM.
Making the choice to put into motion a desire I had in my heart for several years felt like belated acceptance of a priceless gift. To cleave to my mom just as she is today and has been since I met her at 19 yrs old, has opened a pocket in my heart that was shut by me all these years. It is no longer empty, cool, and closed. It is open wide with promise of a permanent locket of treasures to be stored. Just 2 weeks ago, I spent my mom’s 81st Birthday with her. The first of her Birthday’s I have ever spent with her. I begin to shake and weep as I write this because, regret fell heavy on me, again, just now. I’m reaching for thanksgiving to took charge. My heart has mom in it, the spot she belongs. Despite her mistakes, regrets and sorrows, she deserves my grace, just as God has given me grace. Over and over.
Several month prior, my husband and I visited with my mom at her home with her husband of many years. We shared tears together for the first time. I could feel her pain and regret and she could feel mine. I was able to open up to her and share the trials I was facing now. I could feel her empathy and desire to help. I’m certain we both felt parallels in the depth of our regrets and mistakes that we seeded at the surface of our souls, as mother and daughter. I knew from that day forward our relationship would be different. Neither of us has expectations or needs. Just desires to laugh, share time together and not let the past unanswered why’s be in our present and future. I have chosen not to define my mom for what she may have done in the past that contributed to my hurt. Leaving the past in the past is a choice I made. I gained the understanding and courage to do so for the pure thanksgiving and gratefulness for the gift of her in my life, and me finally accepting this gift.
I continue to pray that each moment we have will be special. I do not want her to leave this life without knowing I am grateful she chose to bring me into this world as young as she was. I will cherish whatever time we get.
My ability to embrace my mom as she is today was not easy for me. When I am hurt by something or someone, it’s hard for me to let it go. Even if I know deep down, the hurt inflicted was not intentional. Holding my hurt, my pain, feeling rejected, unanswered questions, lost me a lot of time with her I cannot get back. I still have unanswered questions, curiosities and confusions. Maybe some day we will visit those together. Maybe not. It’s not my goal. My goal is to be sure she knows I love and value her as my mom just as I know her.
In a song by Mike & The Mechanics, The Living Years, the lyrics are painstakedly touching to me. It came up in my earbuds when I was working out about 2 months ago. It was hard to listen to, but I needed to.
”Every generation blames the one before… …it’s too late when we die, to admit we don’t see eye to eye….
”..we open up a quarrel between the present and the past….we only sacrifice the future, it’s the bitterness that lasts”
Thank you to all of you who are following me, have taken time to read or have sent me private or public comments. Buried or denied trauma affects every single person differently. It’s never gone. It can be suppressed, it can color, it can teach, it can weaken, strengthen and even be intrusive. With continued support, love, grace and encouragement, my trauma’s are completing me and supporting my desire to finish strong in my life with joy and thanksgiving and to love and cherish each moment I get with those I love.
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