Mother, mother

I see you.

I feel you.

I understand you.

I cry for you.

I sympathize with you.

I have despised you.

I have struggled with you.

I have hated you.

But I could never hate you.

I love you.

Even when I wish I didnt, I love you.

I am from you, and you are within me.

I am you, and you are me.

Mother dearest. Mother I have wished was different. Mother whom I am more like than I care to admit. Mom. Momma. To be your child is to be born again every morning and every conversation. Every smile and every tear. Every epiphany and every rage filled episode.

I chose you. Everything I am is a result somehow of who you are. The who that I chose you to be when my soul chose yours in the world above and below this one, as my son did with me. The divinity of a mother child union is only understood fully in a space we can briefly glimpse in this life.

In this year, I have started to understand the beauty in the struggles. In our journey, in the gift of your essence. I am grateful for the arrival in this place... I was not sure it existed, and even less sure that I would find it before it was too late.

My sages heart wraps her old weathered wings around the little girl inside of you. From the eternity of the afterlife we are neither young nor old, but spirits dancing in and out of lives. This wise soul is seeing you, a mere child, and caressing your lovely hair - watching your innocence as you learn how to gently pet a kitten and get giddy as you buy your first winter coat.

Loving you as a daughter in my human life has proven difficult, as roles here on earth come with expectations. When I travel to the land of love, the eternal wellspring of God, I find that the roles, and the expectations that come along with them, are gone. All that is left is the essence of you.

From this surreal place of unfettered connection and purity, my heart pours out love for you. Sadness for the tumultuous journey this 74 years has brought. The immense struggles, watching you strive and desire against the impossibility of showing your heart through your broken trauma induced defense mechanisms.

A longing in my heart for a connection with you - the same longing I see in your eyes as you plead with me to hear and understand your intentions; the despair and the disconnect. The sheer madness of the reality we've lived. To live as a human is to oppose the spirit, and yet it is from the spirit that we chose to be human.

The thread of this timline is but a speck in the cosmic infinity and all that feels real - the intensity of our carnal emotions - are but practice lessons towards actualization. My despair drives me deeper to my spiritual compassion. My disappointment confronts my narratives. My rage and fury compliments my ambition for truth. My shame, born of your voice, opposes my emergence. It exists because it must. Without that blockage, I would never have learned to pursue; to survive, to claw and crawl, and to embody the vigorous triumph of my destiny. It is in the challenge of your existence that I have realized my strength.

On the surface, these words sound of judgment and criticism, but they are not. It is precisely the extreme value of the opposing forces that was needed for me to achieve the counterpart of success. For an easy life will produce an unremarkable outcome: and my life is remarkable. My journey is and was extreme, as it was written to be. As my years progress, I have you to thank.

I have you to be grateful for as the dark to my light. The mirror I could not avoid. The trigger I could not escape. And not in vain, for at the end, I do not oppose you - I am you. I have come home. Home to you, home to me.