I’m awake and I can’t sleep.
I’ve been lying in bed, mulling over a telephone call that I had with my elderly Mother yesterday when checking in with her to make sure all is okay.
“I’ve been reading your writing on the huddle”– she always refers to the internet, as the name of the tablet that she uses and the writing she is referring to are the memes or quotes that I post on Facebook.
“I’m proud of you girl.”
“Thanks Mum that means a lot to me.”
She caught sight of the link that I posted a few weeks back, to this blog and my heart sank when she told me that she had managed to get on to my writing where there was a picture of someones feet… “I don’t know how I found it but it was ever so good and I didn’t know you could write like that!”
I was relieved to know that she didn’t get any further than the introduction and know that she would be pretty devastated if she read anymore.
My big brother idolized his mum, our mum and when he was little he used to try and protect her from my father and his aggressive bouts, by standing in front of her and standing up to him.
He took the brunt of the beatings for her.
There were times when my father would take my mothers most precious possessions and swap them for prescription drugs from the man that lived opposite our house. My brother would earn money from either bottle digging or picking winkles from the beach and buy her jewellery back.
I’ve probably written this somewhere before in my previous posts.
There is still a part of me that struggles to forgive her for not putting my brother first and I also know that he needs to be acknowledged for what happened to him as a child.
It’s the younger child part of him that needs this to be acknowledged.
Nobody has said sorry.
I know that we make choices to the best of our ability at any given time and the choices that my mother would have made back then, were driven by intense fear.
Forgiveness is so very powerful and by choosing pain, anger or even hate over forgiving, we are hurting ourselves so much more than the other person/people involved in our personal story.
Have I forgiven my mother for not protecting my brother and putting him first?
I would be lying if I said that I totally had and for the most part, of course, I have. Maybe I have learn’t so much over the years about the why’s and the how’s and the many reasons why we do the things that we do.
It is never black and white and there is always so much more.
There is still a part of me that seems unable to forgive my parents for the hurt that they both caused my brother and I also know that forgiveness needs to happen in order to really live freely without that past dragging me or him down.
They carried so much pain of their own.
In time I know we will and in part, that’s why I started writing.
If my mother read my blog I think that she would be shocked and very hurt. I also think that acknowledging the part that she played in all of this, would devastate her.
What I do resent is a statement she had said so many times over the years and it’s this-
“If anyone ever touched a hair of one of my kids… I’d kill them!”
(and that goes for grandchildren too)
Some where within her there is a dark, dark place that carries shame, guilt, loss and so much pain and I really don’t want that for her or for my brother or I.
Forgiveness can be tough and I so want it to be easier. I love my mum with all my heart and she has been a wonderful mum in so many ways. I feel that there’s a part of her emotionally that cut off and became cold a very long time ago and that may of happened way before she married my father.
Maybe it happened when her own mother rejected her and that’s terribly sad.
I guess the question is, would my mother still be very proud of me if she read my blog?
I’m not so sure she would.
We all deserve peace.
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