I know my mother loved me; sometimes, however, her love was smothering and toxic. As a kid, my life was filled with many “I’m not one of your little friends” type of comments and a lot of restrictions. Her tone was always very matter-of-fact. Hugs, warm embraces, and soft kisses were nonexistent in my home. Being a single mother, at times, working hard to pay bills with poverty and oppression a few miles away, took away her softness. It was replaced with harshness that often felt like cruelty.

Don’t get me wrong; today I am a hardworking no-nonsense woman primarily because of the example my mother set before me; however, at my very grown adult age, I am still trying to process the disappointments of my childhood. From the missed school events that she couldn’t attend because of work, which caused me to question my value, to the spankings that left me crying through the night, I still carry scars. And when poked, those scars turn to triggers. For me, those triggers look like resenting women who come across as too abrasive or doing things to gain the approval of others because I was raised to “be a good daughter”.

Healing showed me that the harshness my mother gave me as a child, I returned to her, in my adulthood, in the form of criticism and resistance. There was a part of me that wanted to punish her for the ways I felt she failed me as a child. It took me a while to empathize with my mother as a woman born at a very different time in history than I was (the Civil Rights era) and to understand that it played a large role in how she showed up and parented.

I no longer offer her my anger; it is now replaced with compassion. She did the best she could, and for that, I honor her.

Read more about how I healed here.