I want to share with you one of my most sacred stories.
It is a story of pain. of grief. of fear. of shame. AND it is a story of love.
It is time. Time to LOVE myself openly. Time to feel any and all things that I feel about this OPENLY, FREELY, PUBLICLY, TRUTHFULLY.
With my hand at my heart I share with you something precious.
I was sixteen years old when my relationship with motherhood began.
I was afraid.
I wanted to be small. I remember that specifically.
I wanted to be small, a child, innocent, not capable of creation. I wanted to hide, I wanted to be saved, I wanted to disappear.
I was afraid.
I told my mother. I stared at the blue of my bed, tears in my eyes, and I slipped away.
She told my father.. I am not mad, I am disappointed.
They made the decision for me. I was a child, their child. They were saving me, I was letting them. I said nothing.
I was not saved.
My father was noticeably absent. He dropped my mother and I at the clinic and left. My mother dressed me that day. Like a child, she picked out my denim overalls and pale pink shirt, and my hat. It was important that I wear a hat so she could hide my face from the protesters. She was saving me.
I was not saved.
A woman took me into an office and talked to me about sex, how the female body works. My mother asked if the talk was necessary, she thought I was too young to be hearing it.
Years later looking back at the parts of this story I consciously remember, it amazes me how powerful denial can be.
If I treat her like a child and dress her like a child, she will be a child again and we will make this go away and she can be my baby again.
I am sorry Mom. I am sorry we had to experience this together. I am also sorry that I can no longer carry the burden of these untruths for you.
I was not given anything for pain or comfort.
I know that I felt everything but I remember almost nothing.
I remember feeling empty.
An indescribable emptiness. The floor opened up and ate me up whole. This is where my largest void was created – in this room with my feet in stirrups where I was made empty.
This is where I became hard, rigid, AFRAID. This is where I was made empty.
I could not love myself anymore. The darkness enveloped me. It did not creep in slowly, it swallowed me whole in one gulp. Then I was gone, all that was left was empty.
Empty and shame and fear.
There are so many stories in this story. This pain is so layered there were times I never thought I would be able to unravel enough to tell any part of this story with clarity. I will start here, with this truth; when I was sixteen I became a mother, a mother who would never hold her baby.
This is my start. My BIGGEST moment. I am allowing YOU to see me in my most naked state of truth and love and pain. I do not know who you are, I do not know if you are safe.
What I do know is that I AM SAFE. I am safety.
I am no longer empty. I went so deep into myself to rescue this mother who was abandoned. I love her without exception. Without fear, without shame. I am in love with her and this is not dangerous, it is one of my most sacred truths; I love my darkness.