Healing my Mother Wound

I have always found it difficult to find trust in women. My mother is unhealed, love starved, and angry. My mother is the victim of her own life. My mother could not love herself, and therefore could never love me. So through the first 18 years of my life, femininity made me feel discomfort and almost shame. My mother did not teach me how to feel empowered, or confident. Instead she taught me how to treat my body with bitter judgement, and relationships with resentment.

Leaving the house I grew up in was my first priority, in order to find healing. As one can not thrive in an environment that is depraved. And when you have a hole in your life, you try to fill it. So, I looked for mothers that were not of my blood. And I looked for acceptance from strong females in my life. Through this search I have met women that remind me of my mother. Women who are angry, women who are selfish. Filling this void has sent me on roller coaster of healing and then falling back into distrust.

This past weekend I participated in a women’s retreat with my boss. Who is a powerhouse of a women. She is a mother of two kids and pregnant with her third, while owning her own business. And with her heavy load maintains compassion and kindness for every soul. She has truly taught me the magic of women hood. And retreating with her I believe healed me.

On the 2nd evening of our weekend, a beautiful counselor had us finger painting. My boss had decided to skip this activity and lay down (as she is in her 2nd trimester). When I finished my painting, this inner child feeling flooded through me. You know that feeling when you create something your’re really proud of and you want to show someone you love. In my 21 years of life this is the first time I had that feeling with a mother figure. So I ran up the stairs to find my boss in the kitchen. And the simple words “that’s beautiful” sent shivers down my spine.

This past weekend I found so much beauty communing with women. Women that care for one another. Women that help without asking. Women that fill big rooms with loud laughter and tears. Women that lift each other up. Women that have healed every mother wound my body holds, and welcomed me as family.

I do not talk to my mother. Family is not always blood. It is the people that make you feel seen, the people that make you feel whole.