Yep, we all have one of various colors, textures, and sizes.
Most recently, I have been processing “Mom Guilt” Oh, that sh*t is heavy, hard, and slow to ease.
With great humility, I open up and share in hopes that something here will resonate with you and help you on your journey.
Over thirty years ago, I had the honor to bring a beautiful baby girl, whom I named Kirsten, into this time and space.
After she was born, it took me almost nine months to bond with her. She was a perfect baby; it was my own physical and mental illnesses that kept me from loving her perfection.
As she grew into an inquisitive, highly intelligent human, we had a lot of great times. However, I was dealing with so much of my unhealed humanness that I did things that added squares to my “Guilt Quilt.”
One night, when she was about three years old, we did our normal bedtime routine: rocking, reading, singing, tucking in, and kissing goodnight. But little Kirsten was wound up and not ready for bed. I was exhausted, working full time, pursuing an advanced degree, and being a mom, daughter, and wife: You get the picture. I just wanted her to go to bed, so I could have some time. Nope, she was not doing what I wanted, so I yelled at her, the words I don’t exactly remember, but I do recall putting up the baby gate on her bedroom door and telling her to cry herself to sleep, and I went downstairs to watch TV.
After a couple of hours, I was ready for bed, crept upstairs, and passed by her bedroom. I could see that my precious little girl had fallen asleep on the floor right near the baby gate. She was hugging her favorite stuffed animal, “Kat-Kat,” and her blankie was haphazardly wrapped around her. I knew in that very moment that I had done wrong, really WRONG.
I carefully picked her up and placed her in her bed. My tears dropped on her auburn hair as I bent down to kiss her. I whispered how sorry I was, but I knew she was sound asleep and did not hear me. But that little shiny soul did hear me and granted me forgiveness at that very moment. However, it would take me decades to forgive myself.
Kirsten was full of joy; she was loud, proud, and always amazing. But that did not always fit into what I thought she should be. For example, when she was five and too loud in the back of my car, I put her ass out on the street. I drove about 10 feet and then let her back in the car, stipulating that she had to be quiet. Oh, that little spirit; she was never doing anything wrong; it was my f*cked up perception of how she should be raised.
When she was in the first grade, her very strict, religious teacher brought Kirsten into my office one morning. Kirsten was humming and twirling around in her dress. Mrs. W. explained that Kirsten did not have panties on and was being quite the “exhibitionist” during morning circle time. Fortunately, we lived close, so I took Kirsten home to help her “appropriately” dress. *Sidenote: It would take me decades to really know that girl was on to something; going Commando is f*cking Awesome!… Anyhow, as I lectured her extensively about etiquette, she just gazed up at me with those little ponytails and said, “Okay, mama, I don’t care; I’ll wear underwear.”
The next summer, Kirsten went away for a week to camp. It was our first time apart, and I missed her terribly. When her dad and I went to pick her up, it was an incredible and treasured memory. She screamed, “Mama,” ran up to me, latched on to my leg, and wouldn’t let go. Her dad and I gave her big hugs and kisses. I noticed that she was wearing the most unusual clothing assortment, and she smelled bad.
Her dad and I agreed to stop at the closest fast-food restaurant, so I could take Kirsten into the bathroom for a “Sink Shower.” As I lectured her about cleanliness, stripping off her weird clothes and scrubbing her face with abrasive hand cleaner, she beamed back at me. That perfect little spirit, with adorable freckles and enough spunk to light up the entire state, was a gift to me. I just couldn’t see it through the lens of my own dinged humanity.
When I felt like I had washed away enough funk to make it back home, I dried her with those brown, rough paper towels. She asked, “What am I going to wear home?”.
I flung the dirty Barney towel at her and said firmly, “Wear this.”
She just smiled and said, “Okay, Mama, I don’t care; I love Barney, and I love you!”
There are many other examples that added to the tapestry of my Guilt Quilt. And it wasn’t until I was well into my own healing journey that I realized how I would use that quilt. When times turned bleak, I would reach for that quilt and wrap myself up in the proof and evidence that I was not worthy of great love. I was damaged, I was not enough, and all I had to do was to gaze upon the squares of conditional love I dealt out, and it would send me into a self-loathing state.
But as I have come to know the unconditional love of my True Self, my Spirit, I have been able to process and fully feel the impact of my decisions. Those events will always be part of my past, but they will no longer serve as a weapon against me. Just like my parents, I did the best I could with the knowledge that I had. I forgave myself and began to understand on a deeper level that forgiveness was not really necessary.
Amazingly, Kirsten survived me, and how she processes her challenges will be her own journey. What I know now is that I choose to love her unconditionally. I honor where she is, and all I can truly do is to continue to do my own work using the Holistic Scaffolding™ and choose the bliss, light, and 100% love that is my True Self!
