From the Mouths of Babes 2 of 2
by Deborah Randall
(Laurel, Maryland, USA)
This dialogue (from Part 1) can go on and on. From the mouths of babes!
I begin to understand a little bit more. The chain smoking to self-soothe, the rageful temper, the feeling of complete inadequacy that she is filled up with. And, I begin to believe it's true that she "did her best".
My Mother never did get her needs met. She was abandoned. She was left for days as a five-year-old to tend to her younger sibling with no food or means. It destroyed her. She still hasn't recovered. She hasn't been allowed to be weak or vulnerable and so she rages. She rages because that's how she gets what she wants. She is perpetually two. Throwing fits with no one to remove her from the situation.
She throws fits because then people will look at her. She thinks if she can control she can "win". She has never known what it means to be nurtured and does not have that to give.
It doesn't excuse the violence she reigned on me. And it doesn't mean I'll ever go back to the place I was tortured for years on end during my formative development.
But, it does mean I have a love for her. I wonder about the legacy of women. If we are held up to be the Princess/Queen/Best and think everyone else is a form of peasant for our own survival, what kind of world does that create? Because on some level we are all vulnerable children who NEED love and compassion and community and human contact. The world without all of that? A limited one. A fearful one. A bunch of screaming two-year-olds sexualized when they shouldn't be and throwing tantrums to get attention their entire lives because they never figured out how to stop and love themselves first. They don't see a model of it anywhere. It's a legacy of rage, it's a legacy of self-hatred, it's a legacy that needs to end.
I choose to believe in possibility. That if we live to see the next day then we have this great opportunity to really be alive in it. And if that means we have to say goodbye to the people we are supposed to revere, that's what it means. A painful goodbye, but really a small price to pay for freedom and joy in life.
I release all of the hatred in my heart that I have held toward her. I hope she chooses to grow and heal and I hope that me stepping out of her life will let her know that she cannot be verbally abusive with people and still have love around her. Because if she FINALLY gets that, then she can fix it. And, I really hope she fixes it.
In the meantime, I have a strawberry pie to make, an artist date to plan, and lots of writing to do.
Thanks Mom, for getting me to the planet.
I do love this life!
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