And Then She Died…

When I created this account, the idea was for it to be an outlet, a place where the rushing, consuming thoughts could be stored until I was ready to really process them properly. A safe haven for myself from my own cognitions.
The Mother wound I carry runs deep; engrained in me like a vein in a cliff face.
For years my heart has ached, broke and longed for this wound to heal.
I had finally found fractions of peace, paved my own belonging in this world and accepted that some wounds create a pain that may dull – but they never truly go away.
Fascinated by the grief I felt, fascinated by the process of grieving those that are still here; the what ifs, the maybes, the assumed. I entered the academic world of psychology and planned to write my thesis on grief – this emotion that is so powerful and consuming in its entirety , yet often so misunderstood, mislabeled and mistaken. I thought I truly understood grief, I understood that often my moments of anger were often rooted in the grief I felt for my relationship with my mother, my flashes of sadness – representing a longing for a relationship that could never be, my twinkles of happiness – never all encompassing because there was always something missing. I thought I had found peace in my Mother wound and that I understood all I needed to in order to still embrace and experience a fulfilling life.
And then she died.
That is when you realise how naive you have been and you enter into a whole new realm of grief – one that is incomprehensible to most, even more so when you add the complexities of the wound you carry.
When you make the decision to say goodbye to a relationship with someone that is still on this Earth – you ground yourself in all the reasons that justify this decision. I say with overt confidence – no child ever wants to say goodbye to a parent, these are not decisions that get made lightly. I spent my entire adult life justifying to myself and those in my world why I would not maintain a relationship with my Mother and why I would limit the access she had to my own child. Rooted in an abundance of experiences that only ever lead to heartbreak, disappointment and soul crushing devastation, this was a place I had to ensure I stayed in for mere self preservation. I accepted the wound she gave me, I however refused to let her keep infecting it.
And then she died.
Suddenly, the foundation of my self protection was shattered. There is something bittersweet in death, when you know that a person who has hurt you countlessly can no longer create any new pain, you abruptly find yourself in a space you have been left with few other choices than to suppress. The space before you realised you were hurt. As a child, you may quickly grow to understand that life is not fair, that maybe you were dealt cards that gave you the worst hand at the table; as a child you don’t realise that it is your Mother whom is the dealer. You develop in ways where you can only see the good in your parents, you don’t realise they are the cause of your hurt yet.
That is the space death brings you too.
The laughs, the conversations, the comfort, the things that are untainted by your childlike naivety.
Without warning you are thrown into a space where you are just a little girl who wants her mum.
However, you are no longer a little girl.
Instead you are a young woman, a young woman with your own child and have now assumed responsibility for two teenagers whom have also lost their mother.
Teenagers whom have their own Mother wound but they are not adults and they truly do not understand the depth of this yet. Instead they feel confusion, heartbreak and grief on an entirely different spectrum.
You are now these two people’s entire world. There is no one before you, there is no other option, this is it, you are all they have left.
You don’t get to be the little girl who wants her mum, you instead are a pillar of strength, resilience, guidance and safety.
That is your duty now, that is the priority.
But in the still of the night, in the moments when no one is looking, when you don’t have to carry the weight of this crushing world for just a second.
You are just a little girl… who wants her mum…
To be continued…