Thanks and it resonated. My mom disappeared when I was young, my first memories are in foster care. She came back though and stayed with a fierceness that hurt, overprotective is an understatement. Now that I’m a mother I’ve developed a sense of grace and forgiveness. But there is simply no cure for the heartache of a mother’s absence your lovely and balanced writing reminds me of this.
What a story, Michelle. Thank you for sharing. I want to read more. When did you she come back? How old were you? Have you written about this anywhere?
Thanks, it’s a complicated story but she did come back! I was about 5-6, so it was like two years in foster care. I’ve alluded to it in my memoir but am not sure how much detail I’ll get into. My memoir is about my adult life in the Middle East, but reaching back to those early years lays out essential background. How does your mom feel about your memoir?
Wow, sounds like you have another memoir in you. Have you read White Oleander?
My mom is supportive of my writing and me telling her story, our story. She doesn't want me to call her a bad mother, which I don't, but of course, sometimes people draw their conclusions. I don't think she was a bad mother, though. I think she was in pain and she was doing the best with what she had.
Thank you for this beautiful meditation on the limitations of mothers and the love that we have for them and they have for us that coexists with the limitastions.
Appreciate you reading, love. Oof, yes, the limitations of mothers with or without addiction. I think about my own limitations with my son. How I never quite feel like I have enough energy.
I was holding my breath through this whole post. I feel that often when I read your posts. Our stories are different and yet there are so many feelings that criss-cross between them. Keep writing. Keep sharing. Keep healing. That’s the best we can do. 🩷
I know that feeling. I hold my breath while writing these stories all the time. I have to remind myself to breathe. Our bodies hold so much. Writing helps me process but I’m still working on the somatic side of things and teaching my nervous system that I’m safe and that the cops aren’t at the door ready to destroy my life every damn second. 🫠 I’m sorry that my life has mirrored yours in any way but I’m glad my story is resonating with you. Appreciate you being here, love.
Beautifully written. When I see all the social media posts expressing their love for their mothers, I pause. That is something I would never do. I cannot relate. I do not grieve my mother's death. I do not have fond memories of all she did for me. An addict is difficult to love. Mother's Day is a day to celebrate everything I learned from her on what not to do and who not to be to my children.
Wow, Jane. I can feel the heaviness of all that you've had to hold in that relationship. I'm so sorry you didn't get the mother you needed. There really is a different kind of reckoning that comes with Mother’s Day when your experience doesn’t match the cultural script. Loving an addict, or choosing not to, is complicated terrain. I can relate, too, in that I learned a lot of what NOT to do and be for my son. At least there's that. Appreciate you being here and commenting. This is an important conversation.
A beautiful & honouring piece around the complexities of mothering. It must be so hard to wrap your mind around all the what if’s & still show up authentically with care & kindness. This writing reflects a beauty, I hope you can see that.
Mother’s Day was simple for me. Church & a gift for mothers, a call from my son who lives the other side of the country & a call to my mum who lives 7 hours away. Small things but precious things.
Thankyou for always writing authentically. It is such a gift. 🧡
Thank you for reading, love. It means a lot to feel seen in the complexity and to be reminded that the ache and the beauty can live side by side. I’m glad your Mother’s Day held those simple, meaningful moments. Sometimes it really is the quiet gestures that land the deepest. That's always what I'm after with my mom. Sending love to you and yours.
Thanks and it resonated. My mom disappeared when I was young, my first memories are in foster care. She came back though and stayed with a fierceness that hurt, overprotective is an understatement. Now that I’m a mother I’ve developed a sense of grace and forgiveness. But there is simply no cure for the heartache of a mother’s absence your lovely and balanced writing reminds me of this.
What a story, Michelle. Thank you for sharing. I want to read more. When did you she come back? How old were you? Have you written about this anywhere?
Thanks, it’s a complicated story but she did come back! I was about 5-6, so it was like two years in foster care. I’ve alluded to it in my memoir but am not sure how much detail I’ll get into. My memoir is about my adult life in the Middle East, but reaching back to those early years lays out essential background. How does your mom feel about your memoir?
Wow, sounds like you have another memoir in you. Have you read White Oleander?
My mom is supportive of my writing and me telling her story, our story. She doesn't want me to call her a bad mother, which I don't, but of course, sometimes people draw their conclusions. I don't think she was a bad mother, though. I think she was in pain and she was doing the best with what she had.
Thank you for this beautiful meditation on the limitations of mothers and the love that we have for them and they have for us that coexists with the limitastions.
Appreciate you reading, love. Oof, yes, the limitations of mothers with or without addiction. I think about my own limitations with my son. How I never quite feel like I have enough energy.
Your ability to see motherhood from all sides is beautiful. Thank you for sharing your story.
Thank you for reading, Karen. Motherhood has been so healing for me and has helped me see my mother for better or worse.
I was holding my breath through this whole post. I feel that often when I read your posts. Our stories are different and yet there are so many feelings that criss-cross between them. Keep writing. Keep sharing. Keep healing. That’s the best we can do. 🩷
I know that feeling. I hold my breath while writing these stories all the time. I have to remind myself to breathe. Our bodies hold so much. Writing helps me process but I’m still working on the somatic side of things and teaching my nervous system that I’m safe and that the cops aren’t at the door ready to destroy my life every damn second. 🫠 I’m sorry that my life has mirrored yours in any way but I’m glad my story is resonating with you. Appreciate you being here, love.
Beautifully written. When I see all the social media posts expressing their love for their mothers, I pause. That is something I would never do. I cannot relate. I do not grieve my mother's death. I do not have fond memories of all she did for me. An addict is difficult to love. Mother's Day is a day to celebrate everything I learned from her on what not to do and who not to be to my children.
Wow, Jane. I can feel the heaviness of all that you've had to hold in that relationship. I'm so sorry you didn't get the mother you needed. There really is a different kind of reckoning that comes with Mother’s Day when your experience doesn’t match the cultural script. Loving an addict, or choosing not to, is complicated terrain. I can relate, too, in that I learned a lot of what NOT to do and be for my son. At least there's that. Appreciate you being here and commenting. This is an important conversation.
A beautiful & honouring piece around the complexities of mothering. It must be so hard to wrap your mind around all the what if’s & still show up authentically with care & kindness. This writing reflects a beauty, I hope you can see that.
Mother’s Day was simple for me. Church & a gift for mothers, a call from my son who lives the other side of the country & a call to my mum who lives 7 hours away. Small things but precious things.
Thankyou for always writing authentically. It is such a gift. 🧡
Thank you for reading, love. It means a lot to feel seen in the complexity and to be reminded that the ache and the beauty can live side by side. I’m glad your Mother’s Day held those simple, meaningful moments. Sometimes it really is the quiet gestures that land the deepest. That's always what I'm after with my mom. Sending love to you and yours.