Mum's the Word

The Good Mum Myth

I see a lot of these pictures about. Sometimes it's not about that they miss them or that they have died but how wonderful, special and amazing their Mum's are.

When my mum was alive it make me feel weird. Sort of hollow. Like a gap where a tooth should be and I would poke that space. I couldn't seem to leave it alone some how.

I mean how do you explain that no, my mum is not, was not, my best friend, deepest confident, biggest supporter, shoulder to cry on?

How do you explain that she was 4 foot 5 inches of toxic pain? That she hurt, harmed and belittled me over and over and over and knew?

That she had reasons, that should be be pleasant, that she was smart and polite but.... she would twist any situation to be about her. That she would pick, scratch and itch for an argument, then play the victim.

How do you explain to people who have had more healthy relationships with their family (or even ones that really don't) that sometimes you have to let go, walk away, find your peace without your mum?

That being raised by a person who didn't beat you every day, who feed and clothed you, can still be horrifically abusive?

That the absence of unconditional love burns cold?

That the "good ol' mum sayings" in my home were not like other people's?

She is dead and I am still trying to figure out what is wrong with me! Why couldn't she love me?

The fierce love I have for my husband and children is so intense, so powerful. It is primal. Magnetic.

I know she had a shitty childhood and an abusive mentally ill mother whom she barely saw. I know she never forgave her an inch. Not one. That she went into an abusive marriage and left him for a bipolar sexual predator, whom she loved until she died, over 20 years, in a distant unconnected sort of way.

Yet I know many many abused people who would never ever hurt their children. In fact they are the most protective, loyal and loving.

In the end that gap, that space opened up in me is where spirit and faith and magick came pouring in.

I don't know if I wish I had yelled at her, she would have enjoyed that. I don't even know what I would want to say. 

I was a child and she tortured me with her words and actions. With her inaction and cold spite.

All I ever really wanted was a mum.

Someone to hold me when I was sad. Believe in me. Tell me everything was going to be okay. 

Love me, just as I was.

Instead I hold my heart out and be better not bitter.