MOTHERS
birth mothers,
earth mothers
stepmothers
awkward roles assigned
archetypes embodied
stereotypes enacted
primal roots
patriarchy
tribal law
we carry bits & pieces
cluttering the present
with long forgotten fears
Maybe three years ago, Kelly decided she wanted to call me Mom. We agreed, but I had no idea what that would mean to me as time went on. That simple word turned out to make demands, stir fears I didn’t know I had, and trigger roles I didn’t know I would take on…
Nurturing Mother: As her disease progressed there were times she needed a nurturing mother, not a stepmother, not a friend. She wanted the “just hold me and make it all better” mother. The mother she needed when she was 3, 10 or 13 years old, but never had because of her birth mother’s illness. And worse, I couldn’t be that for her. I’m not a cuddler. I just learned how not to duck when a friend goes to kiss me. I can hug. But what I am wasn’t enough. I felt lacking in the deepest way. I’ve been working through my own sense of shame (I just figured out it is shame) that I wasn’t more in those times. It’s getting better.
Responsible/socializing Mother: And then there were those times I responded to “mom” by trying to socialize her (a little late in the game). She felt criticized, and she was. The unconditional love she needed was absent. On reflection what surfaced were primal fears of distant times when daughters who violated the tribal norms were stoned. Free spirits were not rewarded. It was dangerous. Mothers who failed were shamed.
Where did this deep compulsion, this tribal consciousness for conformity come from? My Mother’s version was “What will the neighbors think?”. How many generations has this fear been passed along, unconscious, under the guise of being a good mother? How did I not know?
Once seen I could shift and that surprised me as well. Awareness again brings freedom.
Mom: And then there were all the times when she was just my daughter, my heart open. 
It was clean, without old tapes. It was love. For these times, nothing much needs to be said. Actually, nothing much can be said. Those times just were. Love just is.
Life’s gifts: My time with Kelly was, and is, humbling. I saw how much I could give, but also how much I couldn’t. I was a doer. My caring could have a sharp edge. I’ve had to remind myself over and over, we’re all full of paradoxes and imperfections, and to not discount what I had to offer because of the things I couldn’t. I’ve had to learn to stop trying to fix me, so I could stop trying to fix everyone else. Self-Acceptance! Sounds so simple. I’m closer as a result of my time with Kelly: greater awareness and greater acceptance, even of what is unfinished….not bad.
Do you sell the house? Can you envision living without them? Retirement becomes a reality; work receding into the background. The stock market once again prunes the money tree you thought would bear you fruit.
