Before I Write

I have to write a post about motherhood. And I kind of wish I hadn’t agreed to do it.

I know better, really.

I’ve never been able to find the right words before. I’d rather stick a fork in my eye sometimes than figure out what to say about my mother, and what makes me think the words will come now, anyway?

Because truthfully? I have a hard time describing my relationship with my mother.

I remember when I was a kid, the newspaper had a contest every Mother’s Day where you could write a letter telling about mom, and win her a free breakfast at Denny’s. It was gut-wrenching finding a way to say positive things about mom. I desperately scratched insincere words on paper, crumpled it up, started over, and wracked my brain. I wanted to be able to do it. It just wasn’t there.

So now I am sitting here repeating history. Struggling, just like when I was a kid. And why? For what? So I can prove to myself that it can be done?

I mean, when I write this post, do I share the way that my mom made me feel inadequate while I was growing up? How the comparisons she made between me and my sister were painful? That no matter how hard I tried I was never quite good enough?

Do I say that there were no sharing of secrets, very little talking over of problems, and almost no girl talks or snuggles when I was sad because it usually ended in some kind of judgment?

Is it okay to tell how I felt largely misunderstood by my mom? Can I mention that I have no recollection of her expressing her pride in me or giving me a compliment?

Is it mean to say that much of the time I wished for a different mom?

I can’t say that.

I think that when I write this post I should probably leave these unflattering unmentionables out. It might be too difficult for others to understand the full affect that my mother’s kind of mothering had on me. I wouldn’t be explaining it well and I would risk offending someone. Namely my mother.

They might not see how, even though I felt that my mother’s mothering lacked certain qualities that I craved, I did know deep down that she loves me. That she wants the best for me, although she has the greatest of difficulty showing it the way I would like her to.

That because of all this, I found inner strengths that I might not have otherwise. Strengths that I draw on daily to be the best mother, and person, that I can possibly be.

That in spite of all this, I love her, too.

I think that when I write this post I will say that. Now I just have to figure out how.
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My name is Kim and I am a guest at Heather’s place today for the monthly Blog Exchange. You can usually find me over in my space, In Full Bloom, where I rant, rave and reminisce regularly. And today you can find Heather there! If you would like to be a part of the Blog Exchange or just read about some other thoughts on motherhood, click here. And thanks for having me!

*Note: In no way do I mean any disrespect to my mother by my post. My goal in writing it is to honestly share a very real side to motherhood that many people can be uncomfortable with. Myself included. And frankly, I found writing it to be very liberating.