This post is dedicated to the mothers of the world and all the men who have uplifted those mothers. 🌹🔥
“We all came from a birth – and I’m a big believer that the conditions of our mothers inner world and outer world all leave an imprint on us.”
– REBECCA CAMPBELL
For all of my girls’ younger years, I wasn’t able to fully function as a healthy, balanced woman to be the mom they needed me to be. Or, at least, this was the story I told myself for a very long time.
I’ve been exploring this story recently as new understandings and memories come to light about how much I actually survived in those early years of motherhood. I believe it’s more true than not for women to live through trauma they don’t even realize is trauma until they arrive at a safe enough place (within themselves and in the world around them) to begin to acknowledge how much they’ve actually survived.
What I’m trying to say is that I know what I’m sharing here isn’t unique to me and that most women who read this will relate to one or all aspects of my journey as a woman and a mother, even if you aren’t a mother yourself.
It begins with cultural expectations, whether those be religious, political, or some other systemic dynamic that wants to infuse a sense of unworthiness into a woman’s life. For me, this looked like growing up believing it was my sole mission to get married, have a family, buy a house, get a steady job, etc, or I wasn’t living up to my purpose as a woman in a man’s world. A woman who is expected to be both a homemaker and successful in her career. Because a woman isn’t worthy enough unless she’s doing it all, right? That’s what I came to believe as my truth.
I grew up a people pleaser. It’s part of the programming. If you didn’t fall for this programming, I honor you. Looking back, I’m not sure how it sunk in so deep, and it doesn’t matter now because I have corrupted the program. But then, I didn’t like to rock the boat. As the good girl archetype overtook me, I fell in line with these expectations without checking in with my own heart to see if it was what I wanted.
Who I am now sits with this “good girl” version of me often, and we have real heart-to-heart conversations. What she shares with me is that she was too afraid to speak up because she didn’t want to be an outcast. She didn’t want to be misunderstood or labeled as a whore or seductress because she was unwilling to commit to a marriage and family lifestyle. She didn’t want to be seen as incapable for not taking a proper full-time job.
When this old version of me met the man she would marry, she also never stopped to ask herself if it was really a good match. If she was truly ready to get married. Did he really light her heart on fire with passion? Did he create a safe space for her to feel heard, and respected, and loved?
She knew all of these thoughts and questions burned in her heart, calling out for her to listen, to wait, to stop and to take a breath. But she didn’t pay her heart any attention. She was so wrapped up in the fear programming she couldn’t even see beyond this box she’d been shoved into. (This isn’t to point blame at anyone. She made her choices.) However, the choices she made came from a place of feeling so trapped she couldn’t even see another option.
When I got pregnant, I wasn’t ready to be a mom. I also believe this happens more often than is talked about. We don’t want to make waves by telling truths that sound blasphemous, after all. Even in the best situations, becoming a mother turns your world upside-down and sideways, but throw in an emotional unreadiness and it’s downright terrifying and soul-crushing. I’m not talking about the usual nerves of wondering if you’ll be a good mom. I’m talking about a deep, seeded knowing that you’d take it back in a heartbeat if it were possible.
This brings us to the beautiful quote by Rebecca Campbell shared at the top of this post. I agree 100% that our children are imprinted by the inner and outer conditions we, as mothers are in. They feel what we feel, they absorb the energies we’re exposed to and that we create. So, I reveal that my inner and outer conditions were in no place to be bringing a new life into the world. I can see how this has affected my girls, too. Yet, the question I’ve been living into is, Is this really something that I should blame myself for? Absolutely not. But I did, for a very long time.
And so it begins. A motherhood journey that was destined for a little girl watching those fairytale stories that made her believe it would be easy to just choose someone and make an amazing life with that person with no regard to asking important questions. Because, being the innocent soul that she was, she assumed everyone was as passionate about love as she was.
It began with religious doctrine that told her she’s a sinner for wanting to kiss a boy or date around before settling down—and especially DON’T HAVE SEX before you’re married. Also, don’t have sex unless you’re actually trying to have a baby. Or you’ll go right to hell. So, being the people pleaser/good girl, she believed them.
It began with an economy that makes a woman feel so undervalued that she has no choice but to be with a man to get by. So, being the woman seeded with unworthiness, she couldn’t break beyond this lie.
I won’t name them all here. But I know you know what I’m talking about. Because I know you’ve experienced this too.
So, I’ve been asking myself a lot over this last year as I’m shedding the old scales to let my new ones shimmer in the sun: Am I ready to forgive myself for the mother I’ve been?
The answer is yes. But who is the mother I’ve been?
I’ve been a mother who was so deep in survival mode that I’m surprised I’m still here on this earth right now. I’ve been a mother who, like the lioness, did everything to keep her two little girls safe in regularly occurring unsafe situations. I’ve been a mother who has carried everything on her shoulders. I’ve been a mother who faced, and defeated, the most terrifying monsters (both within and without) to ensure that I was still alive to protect my children.
And what did that look like?
It looked like days where all I could do was meet the basic needs of my children before hiding away to cry or sleep off the trauma I was living in. It looked like not knowing how to be playful with my kids because I was always looking for the next way out. It looked like yelling at them for little things that really shouldn’t have mattered. And letting them go to bed when they want, use their devices as much as they want, and lack the ability (financially or emotionally) to create fun experiences for them.
I was in survival mode. We’re talking, I’m grateful I was even able to do that much as I faced these monsters, one after the other.
Forgiving myself as a mother has been a long journey. But now that I’m far enough away from any threats and I’ve let that people pleaser/good girl/unworthiness-ridden woman go one loving step at a time, what I see is that woman deserves far more credit than I ever gave her.
That woman is a warrior.
That woman is courageous.
That woman mastered the darkness.
Not only do I forgive that woman, I love that woman. And I love the woman I am today because of her. Because of the one who barely made it through, but somehow still found her way out.
Now that my girls are older (still underage, but older), I can breathe a little bit more. I can see how independent they are because they had a mom who didn’t give up on herself despite wanting to over, and over again.
Let’s be honest, the independence my girls carry doesn’t always look like roses and sunshine. It definitely doesn’t look like the independence the patriarchal society we live in would consider “good.” My kids challenge me daily with how independent they are. I used to hold onto so much guilt about this. Because they want to live life their own way, make their own schedules, and choose their own learning modalities. And the powers that be in school or government systems are very good at making you look and feel like a bad mom for this. They know how to weave those deadly vines right into your truth, obscuring the light.
Yet, through forgiving the mother that I was and embracing the empowered woman I am now, I’m finally able to let this guilt go. My girls are independent. They rock the boat. They make waves. Everything that I was too afraid to do when I was their age. I know that the reason they have the strength to do this is because they had a mother who always saw them for who they really are and who never made them wrong for it.
So, today, I’m telling myself, “You’ve been an amazing mother. You have beautiful, strong girls on their way to being fierce, courageous women. Just like you.”
To the mother I was,
I forgive you.
When you thought you were failing, you were actually shining bright in the darkness.
When giving up felt like the easy choice, you rooted down deeper into the hard moments.
When you felt so alone and misunderstood, I was right here lifting you up and rooting you on.
I forgive you. I love you. Go make waves.🌹🌊
Are you ready to forgive the mother, the woman, that you once were, or still are, to become the woman you always have been? Share your comments and stories below this post.💜
Thank you to the women who hosted IWD Siren Songs:
, , , , ,,Thank you to the women on Substack who have inspired me by singing their song so potently:
Moonrise Mystic is the journey of a novelist connecting her love of story with her passion for the mystical into one moving, breathing prayer. It’s for those who love to read fantasy stories and intuitive writings that explore expanding through the initiations of life, death and rebirth, and transmuting shadow to light. Thank you for being here!
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Wow. This closely resonates with my own motherhood journey. Reading your story brought tears to my eyes. Thank you for sharing 🙏
Thank you for writing and sharing your story Alysia, I found it incredibly moving to see you showing compassion for your past selves. We can be so hard on ourselves as mothers, when often we need mothering through the process ourselves. Thank you again, it felt very healing and powerful to read your words xx