The Mother Wound

I was 17 when I left my mother.

I had been determined to stay with her after the divorce. After all, I knew everything my father had done to her - being his unwilling confidant and witness. How could I not stay and help her after begging her to leave him, after watching her go through years of abuse and adultery? She needed me - she relied on me.

It was a dramatic exit really.

I was a leader for a retreat and my mentor told me that an important part of closing a chapter was telling your parents/at least someone ‘responsible’ for you what happened. I knew I couldn’t tell my father, but I thought maybe I could tell my mother. At the time, I had been drinking heavily after school each day to try and deal with my mother’s random tantrums and outbursts, so by the time she approached me, I was fairly tipsy already.

I explained that the mentors said I had to tell her about my talk. I relayed to her years of eating disorders, abuse, cutting, and depression. She faced me expressionless after. She said, “Well, everyone goes through that Céline, you’re not special.”

I was shocked -- my true fears realized -- she didn’t give two shits if I was okay.

In fact, my mother apparently had her own plan of attack that day. She launched into a rapid-fire assault about finding my diary and how she read all about how I was ‘slutting around,’ and with women no less! She couldn’t believe her saintly catholic self was raising a “lesbian whore.” She launched on about how she had always known the devil was inside me. She looked at me with her piercing eyes and outstretched her claws as if she might as well kill me.

And so the abused became the abuser.

Needless to say, I left. I ran upstairs, packed whatever I might need, and drove to my father’s place. At least he was out with his latest lady most of the time, and my grandma was there.

I didn’t speak to my mother for a long time after that - until my father left me stranded across the country, and she helped me. I was grateful and tried to patch things up, but the effects never seemed long-lasting.

This cycle repeated often. She and her twin sister would send me countless emails over the years about why I should leave sin and come back to the church. They always made sure to mention their love for me meant they had to save me (which, I must point out is conditional love, if it can be considered love).

I ‘kept the peace’ between us by never living together and always being aloof - lying about who I was but showing her love and compassion as I could. I always excused her behavior because of what my father did... until it started happening to my sisters.

Needless to say, this mother wound came up full force this year amongst the lock-down of the pandemic. The experience was intensified by a brash karmic lesson-learning; I was forced inside with someone just like her. I came to realize I kept playing out shadow feminine in these difficult women I would adore, only to forgive their every misgiving for some excuse or another.

This year has shown me parts of myself I thought were healed, but may have simply been placated. As she returns to her unhealthy habits, sadly undoing years of progress, she perpetuates this terrible cycle onto my sisters. The hardest part, of course, is that I love her very much, but as I mentioned in my piece Reclaiming Your Power As An Observer, we are able to love people and realize they are not for us in this moment. Holding your boundaries doesn't mean you don't love someone; in fact, it actually means you have enough love for that person AND yourself. This year has shown me for the first time my own cycle with shadow feminine, and that this story might not have the neat resolve I crave.

Instead, I choose to be proud of the recognition of the cycle, and by doing so, I know I can break it. By breaking it, I can show myself love and show my sisters a way out. And that is the greatest gift. Through LEADERSHIP and SELF-WORK, they see a path that’s different, and they see that they too can break this cycle.

Such painful and beautiful work unfolding