Mile posts

Certain times of year and events act as mile posts in our lives; for me, it is birthdays, certain holidays, and some major events.  I review my life looking at some mile posts.  By age 30 I had all 6 of my kids, by age 33 I was almost a complete invalid, by age 40 I regained part of my life, age 42 cancer, age 45 I started counseling, each of these stages listed in a fragment of a sentence represent major struggles and decisions I made at the time.  Age 30 I knew that my health was failing, I needed to stop having children.  Age 33 I learned to live 5 minutes at a time and I learned a depth of patience and persistence I didn't know was possible.  At age of 40 I regained part of my life through study and prayer.  I believe on the most basic level that the Holy Ghost will bare witness to the truth of all things.  Age 42 I learned that I have much to be grateful for. Age 45 I made the toughest call of all, get emotional help, I didn't know where to go from where I was.  I watch through my life as I hit challenge after challenge.  One challenge seems to prepare me for the next. 

This week I have yet another challenge....Mother's Day.  For many, it is a time of celebrating their Mother's influence on their lives.  For others, it is a time of bitterness contemplating the person that made their lives a living hell by being the abuser or sitting back while their own child is abused.  I have faced and over come so many things.  Why should this one day be so freaking difficult for me?  My natural desire is to want to celebrate my life and the part my mother had in bringing me into this world.  Before counseling, I could do this fairly easily.  I didn't remember most of my childhood so I could go with the surface, no deep thought, no agonizing.  Today, I read a part of a book Authentic Happiness.  The line that jumped out at me, "Forgiving may be loving toward the perpetrator, but it shows a want of love to the victim."  I always find it faintly disturbing when an author seems to be getting inside my head.  Then I remind myself that I am not the only one on this planet that is struggling with this issue.  I know from past experience that my mother counts the flowers, gifts, and visits as tokens that all is well.  This past month the family celebrated my parents 60th anniversary.  It stirred deep feelings of betrayal and resentment in me that I hadn't suspected were still lingering.  I made it through the day blowing bubbles with my grandkids.  Bless there hearts, they are so happy and enjoyed hours of bubbles.  I used to give my mother mums, but I looked up their meaning, CHRYSANTHEMUM  General - You're A Wonderful Friend; Cheerfulness and Rest (http://thelanguageofflowers.com/) I would have to lie to myself to give them this year. 

My daughter pointed out the I can be thankful for her giving me a body.  I still remember the day that my mother told me how because of her concussion and my two older brothers she hadn't wanted to have another baby, me.  She told me how she was very depressed after I was born and how horrible my birth was.  Information that is not conducive to feeling wanted. After having my own children and watching my daughters have theirs, I understand the difficulty of labor.  I can picture more vividly what my mother suffered in giving birth to me.  She gave me the gift of life.  Now, it is up to me what I do with it.  She does not own me, I am not an indentured servant.  I reached the stage of feeling a certain amount of pity for her.  But I know that any step in her direction, endangers my peace of mind and possible back to being a door mat.  I care about myself now.  I am not a door mat.  Perhaps next year, I will be in a different place in my healing process.  For now, I will honor my life and my motherhood.