Daughter, Discipline, Family, Love, Mama, Mother, Recovery, Related, Unconditional Love, Writing

To The Stranger I Once Called Mama

The only one who had a plan and a purpose for me was God.

My destiny was to never be enough.

I entered your journey as a mistake – my life a burden to yours.

You wanted me to become your real-life doll. Dolls were never my playthings. My playground was the ball field, the barn, a gravel road that I could explore.

You wanted to bend me to your will. My brain was too inquisitive, asking “why” too often for your comfort.

The lace dresses and ribbon bows in which you draped me were chains. I couldn’t breathe sitting still, being quiet, looking pretty. Outside, the sun and dirt begged me to come play. Barefoot in jeans, scraped knees, dirty fingernails – my lungs gasped for air.

I’m sorry I couldn’t accept the God you pushed toward me. It wasn’t big enough to hold me. I needed a whole Universe to teach me where to find a higher power.

Get out of your hair. Obey without question. You wanted me to need you. I did, for all the things you could never give.

Trust you. Believe you. Fit into your life only where it’s convenient. You wanted me to validate you, but I was just a child.

You wanted me to love you unconditionally, but you are thorny and drew blood when I came near. You were a perfect study in “Go away, Come here.”

You wanted me to respect you, but you could never teach me how.

When I became an adult, I wanted to blame your youth, immaturity. Now, you know better. You still choose pride and ego over a relationship with me.

Now, you want to be proud of me, but you are unable to see the heart in me that is good.

You are aging and your mortality grows nearer. I imagine you want to see yourself in me – an instinctive pull to reflect on the genetic contribution you made to the world.

You are sold on the picture in your mind of who you think I should be. Your limited vision is a chrysalis, but I am already a butterfly as multi-faceted as sunlight on a dew drop.

The only one with a plan and purpose for me was God.

Until

I gave birth to my own daughter.

I didn’t know how to be a mother.  Thanks to you, I knew how not to.

Do the opposite of what you did.
Love her without reason.
Celebrate her just because she exists.
Tell her that being present in her life is pure joy.
That’s how I learned to be a mother.

I know the thrill of participating in her world.

She knows without doubt that she’s every dream I’ve ever had.

I know the absolute bliss in watching her walk into her destiny.

The life from you to me to her is as different as night and day.

Seeing the light in my daughter’s eyes makes me understand the depth of the void in your life. Seeing her fulfill her own purpose and plan is a promise from the Universe.

Do you grieve? Do you even understand your casualty?

I’m sorry that the box you live inside locks out the light of your daughter. I’m sorry you can’t see the magic and divinity that I am.

It’s not a loss to me anymore. It’s a loss to you, knowing you chose to let me go.

The only one whose plan and purpose mattered for me was God.
My destiny was to be so much more than enough.

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